I snapped from my daze and leapt out of the chair, reaching for my pouch of herbs. “What are you?—”
“I’m not going to harm you, Miss Wolff,” Lark said, standing and holding her arms up in a sign of peace. The movement cast shadows that danced eerily in the candlelight.
Eyeing the darkness creeping at her heels, I said dryly, “Consider me comforted.”
“You may not know who I am, but I knowyou. Ragnar speaks very highly of you. An accomplished Alchemist from a young age, with a will and a bite as strong as his own.” She chuckled at that,and my eyes widened in stunned silence. “I suppose I should take your shock as proof of his discretion.”
My mind reeled. It felt like I had walked into a different world, one I didn’t understand. How did Ragnar have connections in the palace? “What are youtalkingabout?”
She crossed to the front of her desk and faced me, resting the heels of her palms on top of the sturdy wood. “What are you willing to do to save your uncle?”
I licked my lips. This woman obviously knew Ragnar—how, I wasn’t sure. Was he working for the emperor? Did he help design something for the tournament? I couldn’t believe he didn’t tell us. Countless questions burst into my thoughts, vying for attention.
But he couldn’t answer them. He was gone.
“We—we can’t save him,” I stammered. “There’s no cure.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I bit down on the inside of my cheek to hold back a retort. “Anything,” I grounded out. “I would do anything to save him.”
A beam broke out across her lips. “I was hoping you’d say that. Because there may be a way, Miss Wolff. In fact, it was the very reason your uncle came here in the first place.”
My eyes darted around the room, still wary of her shadows and being confined in this chamber, but I couldn’t deny the fact that she’d piqued my interest. I kept my fingers hooked around the opening of my satchel as I nodded for her to continue.
“I’ve been in contact with your uncle for quite some time trying to find a way to break the Somnivae curse, among other things. He’s been studying the nature of curses, and his insight has proven to be quite valuable. Tell me, Rose—what do you know of it? The Somnivae curse?”
Her question made me open and close my mouth in confusion. I wasn’t sure what to make of the direction this had gone. What did the curse have to do with the tournament?
I bit my bottom lip, taking a moment to respond. “Well, I know it began twenty-seven years ago, when Emperor Aris’ wife gave birth to twins. Theories say since Branock Aris was an Alchemist,he brought it upon the empire himself. That it was the price he paid for his wealth and success?—”
“No,” Lark interrupted with a shake of her head, her braid swinging behind her back and sending a burst of wind scattering over the candle flames. “I don’t want to hear about the history. Tell me what you know about the curse itself.”
My jaw ticked. “It makes its victims fall into a slumber, one they can’t wake up from. Their bodies stay healthy and intact, and they don’t age or show any passage of time at all. The only marker is their eyes—they turn a deep red, like blood.”
As I spoke, Lark nodded. “And what of curses in general? You’re an Alchemist, like your uncle. What can you tell me about that brand of magic?”
I had an inkling she already knew anything I could possibly say, and this littletestwas purely to humor her. Even so, my curiosity won out over my annoyance—I wanted to know where this was heading. “Curses can be cast with the proper potion or charm, but they can also be consequences of other spells. Someone could unintentionally create a curse if they tried to cross boundaries of natural magic or used too much of their power in one go. There are common curses that most Alchemists know, but they can also be created for a specific purpose.”
That’s how I’d discovered my dual protect and attack charm when experimenting with old spells and herbs—it was a protection spell combined with a curse that caused an assailant’s intended actions to backfire on them the moment they tried to harm me. The snow leopard’s mangled shoulder popped into my mind.
“Hmm.” Lark tilted her head and crossed her arms. “And is it possible to reverse a curse?”
“Well, yes,” I started, that same frustration rising again. Over the past twenty-seven years, a countless number of people had tried to reverse the Somnivae curse. Alchemists werestillworking on it. So far, it had been hopeless. “You have to know the originalcurse that was used—all incantations and ingredients. And it can only be reversed by the one who cast it.”
A curse could also be dispelled if the original caster died, I supposed. But none of this mattered, because nobody knew for sure who cast the Somnivae curse. The vast majority once believed it to be Emperor Branock Aris, whether intentional or accidental, and he had died fifteen years ago. Yet the sleeping curse lived. So someoneelsemust have cast it.
“I’m sorry, but what does any of this have to do with my uncle or the tournament?” I finally asked.
“I’m getting there.” A slow smile unfurled on her face, one that spoke of mischief and resolve. “What if I told you I know who cast the curse?”
I clenched the back of the chair in front of me. That was impossible. “You’re lying.”
Her eyes shone with eager triumph. “I’m not. And your uncle knew, too.Thatis why he competed to become the Feywood challenger, so he could use it as a means to come to the capital and help put an end to it. The Decemvirate, the tournament”—she brandished a hand in the air as if batting something away—“none of that matters as much asthis. What your uncle came here to do—uncover the person who cast it and reverse the curse.”
If that was true, if Ragnar had hid his true motive for coming to Veridia City, if he was using the tournament as a cover…that meant the person behind it all was stillhere.
Trepidation trickled over me, clinging to my skin. “Why should I believe any of this?”
