Perhaps it was the book itself that made her uneasy, gave her the niggling thought that she was forgetting something. She shifted her focus, narrowing her eyes on its leather cover. She’d already determined the book was too dangerous to destroy without knowing the extent of her stamina, but now she wondered if that hadn’t been another justification. A temptation to keep it in the off chance that something within its pages could eventually serve Cora in some way.
The thought alone brought severalwhat ifs…
What if it contains a spell to undo some other enchantment?
What if it holds information about the fae?
What if it mentions unicorns and where they came from?
What if…
Cora shook the notions from her head. While this book was clearly one of Morkai’s most personal items, there was nothing that could justify keeping it for any extended period of time. Perhaps she should just throw it in the fire now.
Her stomach sank in warning.
No, she couldn’t be reckless. Like everything else in this room, the book needed to be handled with care. Caution. Her Art.
With a deep breath, she assessed her connection to the elements and found it strong. Then, swallowing hard, she slid the book closer. From her apron pocket, she withdrew her knife and used it to carefully flip open the front cover.
It opened to the page she’d seen before, the one bearing the blood weaving that had sealed Lurel’s fate. The rust-red color hadn’t faded, nor had the design. Still, it was just paper and blood. It could be burned. As for the rest of the pages…
Her palms pulsed with heat, reminding her of why she’d chosen not to clear the book just yet. It wasn’t like the other books she’d discarded already. While those contained instructions in the forbidden Arts, this one held more than that. It was laced with darkness. Personal intent. She should slam it shut. She knew she should.
But something inside it called to her. Not in a tempting way. Not like a siren’s song. It was more like…a part of her. A missing piece of a puzzle she could recognize by size and shape alone.Thiswas the feeling that called to her, coalescing somewhere in the middle of the book. It thrummed with an energy that matched the cadence of her pulse, vibrating alongside the darkness that compressed all around it.
Cora’s throat tightened, fear strangling her chest.
But she had to know.
She had to.
Using the edge of her blade again, she tucked it between the pages, right at the center of the gathering energy. She lifted the pages and the worn spine complied, splaying open to reveal a spread of two inked pages. Unlike the page that had killed Lurel, the ink on these was not red like blood but black. Yet their design was of a similar nature, marking both pages in a complex pattern of crisscrossing lines. They may not have been actual blood weavings, but Cora felt with certainty that these were designs for ones. Blueprints. Curses invented to be forged with real blood later.
And at the top of each page was a name.
On the left,Linette Rose Caelan. Cora’s dead sister-in-law and Dimetreus’ dearly departed wife.
On the right,Aveline Corasande Caelan.
Cora’s name.
Cora’s fate.
Cora’s death.
27
Cora hadn’t forgotten about Morkai’s blood weaving that had bound her fate with Linette’s. But knowing about the curse was one thing. Seeing the origins of its inception was another. It made her stomach bottom out, made every hair on her arms stand on end.
When Morkai had confessed to her about the fate weaving—told her about it in this very room, no less—she’d felt violated. Shocked. Ashamed. He’d taken a twelve-year-old Cora’s mistake and twisted it for his own sinister use. After Cora had publicly declared before the court that Queen Linette had been lying about being with child, he’d used that knowledge to forge a devious plan, killing the queen and gathering her blood. Then he took Cora’s blood too, cutting her palm and weaving a horrible tapestry with it before her eyes. She’d fled the castle right after, unwitting as to why he’d cut her or what purpose that strange blood weaving had served.
But she knew now.
Morkai had bound her fate to Linette’s so that she, like her sister-in-law, would die childless.
All because of a prophecy he’d been determined to thwart.
Morkai’s voice echoed through her mind, recalling the words he’d said the night he’d confessed the truth.
