Reyla leaned back in her chair, her elbows bent, and her hands clasped, lying snug on her chest. “What couldthatbe?” She held up her finger, frowning. “In the library, I read a book that stated… No, wait.” Her shoulders sagged. “It’s not related to this.”
“What did it say?”
“It’s related to dragons.”
“Ah, yes, then.” Briscalar shook his head. “Please remember that what the elder mentioned are merely stories told around a fire, and it’s hard to give such things credence. A few say that the borgons once patrolled these lands. If this is true, I cannot imagine in what capacity.”
“Patrolling implies protection.” Reyla looked down at herhands before her gaze sought mine. “Attacking our people’s livestock does not.”
“These killings…” Briscalar sighed. “This is what’s frightening our people the most. Rather than take what they kill, the borgons are leaving messages behind. They’re not feeding on the poor animals. The livestock are left maimed, and their bodies are arranged in a pattern that—” He glanced at Reyla. “A pattern that stunned me, quite frankly.”
She sucked in a breath. “What sort of pattern?”
Talvon drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, staring forward in thought. “Can you recreate it for us?”
Briscalar nodded. “Easily. It's…quite chilling, actually. I do hope I’m only misreading it, because, if I’m not… Well, allow me to show you, and you can decide for yourselves.” A snap of his fingers and his magical pad of paper and pen appeared on the table in front of him. “Draw—” He shot Reyla a grim smile. “Pleasedraw a pattern at my direction.” He leaned close and whispered, asking for corrections as needed.
As the pen scratched across the surface, the room felt smaller, the walls pressing close in a way that had nothing to do with the old stone.
When Briscalar finished, the pen dropped to the table with a sharp click and remained there.
The lord turned the paper around for us to see. “Please tell me I’m mistaken, that this does not look like—” He winced as he looked directly at me.
I lifted the pad of paper and though the posed bodies were gruesome by themselves, it was the fact that they’d been arranged to form a perfectly executed drawing of the Evergorne crest that horrified me the most.
Two ravens facing each other with their tails and wings outspread behind them.
What in the fates could this mean?
16
Reyla
“The Evergorne Crest,” I hissed.
Also the symbol I’d found on the cover of the book I’d stolen from the library that might be Isodine’s diary. Actually, after talking with Valera, I was convinced it was her diary. If only I could discover where Erisandra hid it and read.
The chill that slithered up my spine had little to do with the light breeze coming in through the cracked window, jutting around the room. The idea of the arranged bodies clung to my mind, sending dread crashing over me.
“Why the crest?” I asked.
Merrick's gaze narrowed on the drawing, and his hand lying on his thigh twitched. “Everything’s tied to Evergorne somehow.”
“The curse too, do you think?”
Lord Briscalar and Talvon sucked in a breath at the same time,and their eyes jolted to lock on the wall before they looked back at us. Yanked away by me saying “curse,” then returned with their minds blanked like usual.
“That would be my assumption,” Merrick bit out.
Briscalar nodded, probably linking Merrick's comment to his prior one about the court.
“Is this a warning or…?” Talvon asked.
Merrick's gaze narrowed. “Or what? Tell me your thoughts.”
Talvon leaned forward, his voice low. “What if this is an invitation?”
“In what way?” I asked.
