He’d already painted with blood. He’d worked blood magic and now knew how simple it was. Not easy, but simple. Just a pattern. A formula.
“Do not lust after blood magic,” Emylia said. “There’s a reason it’s forbidden. There are repercussions.”
She was right, and he shuddered at his own thoughts. At how alluring they were, despite knowing he shouldn’t have them. Yet something in him had changed last summer, as subtle a change as it was. He’d greeted death. Had danced with it. Defeated it. It didn’t repulse him the way it once had, and there was a faint piece of it that stayed with him still, evident in his ability to see spirits. Was that one of the repercussions Emylia was referring to?
He glanced at the warrior wraith again. It walked in slow, hapless circles at the center of the field.
Then it halted.
Turned around.
And lifted its hollow, eyeless gaze to Teryn.
His breath caught as he was struck with a sudden yearning for…
For what?
He didn’t know, nor was he sure the yearning was coming from him. It almost felt as if it was coming from the wraith.
Teryn took a step away from the parapet.
The wraith blinked, then averted its gaze. After a few moments of stillness, it proceeded to cross the field and disappeared at the end of it.
Teryn’s heart slammed against his ribs. Most spirits avoided him, or at the very least ignored him. But that one…
What was the yearning he’d felt?
“What’s happened to me?” he said under his breath. “Why can I see spirits? Why has death chosen to cling to me?”
And if it hadn’t chosen to cling to him…then had he chosen to cling to it?
“I don’t know.” Emylia nibbled her lip. Her wary expression reminded him of when they were locked in the crystal together and she’d hidden information from him.
He fully faced her and took a step closer. She launched a step back, her expression wild with sudden fear.
That wasn’t the first time she’d reacted like that.
It reminded him of the ghost in the council room the other day. The one who’d fled after she’d gotten close to him.
He narrowed his eyes. “What aren’t you telling me? Why have you been afraid of me?”
She wrung her semi-transparent hands. “It’s just…when I get close to you, I feel…I don’t know what I feel. It’s just this sense that…that I’ll cease to exist.”
“What does that mean—” His words cut off as approaching footsteps interrupted their unsettling conversation.
“I don’t know,” Emylia whispered and disappeared before him.
He turned to find Captain Alden striding across the battlement. A small ember of hope ignited in his chest. He’d tasked her with questioning the spy again to see if they could get any more information. If they could just get a little more insight into Darius’ plans…
Alden stopped before him with a bow, but when she straightened, her face was pale.
“Report,” Teryn said.
“It’s…the spy, Majesty.”
“Have you gotten more intel from—”
“He’s dead. The spy is dead, and it wasn’t an accident.”
