He strode into the room and over to stand beside me, lifting his hand as if he’d touch only to drop it back down to his side.
“Bound flame,” he whispered, pointing to the first.
“Is that what it says?”
Nodding, he leaned closer, his fingertip hovering over the second.
I added light to make it easier to see.
“Seek within to find the parts that are missing,” he said softly.
Chills scraped down my spine. “Justifar said that when I was crowned. It was part of her prophecy.” I still wasn’t sure I believed anyone could predict the future, but I hadn’t grown up knowing I was fae or thinking magic was anything but the tool of someone evil. “Seek within to find the parts of yourself that are missing. What part of me is missing?”
He flashed me a crooked smile. “You’re perfect the way you are. Every missing piece you think you lack, I see as strength that brought you to me.”
“Justifar might not agree,” I said dryly.
His smile dropped. “No one’s opinion outside your own matters. Never let anyone steal that from you.”
“You’re right.” Self-worth remained fragile territory. “Fuse them to heal the wound that has long gaped wide. She said that as well. I was missing many parts of myself when I first arrived here. My heart, mostly.”
He took my hand, threading our fingers together like a promise. “And now?”
“I feel whole. But what if her prophecy was a message and didn’t actually relate to me? We’re trying to find the final talisman, which doesn’t appear to be here, by the way, to fuse it together to heal the wound that has long gaped wide. It’s not a stretch to believe the curse is a wound.” A wound that would fester until Lore turned thirty, then reopen with our son's birth.
When he kissed my forehead, the curse's countdown paused, if only for a heartbeat.
“What do the other runes say?” I croaked, my eyes stinging. Days were ticking past, and we still didn’t have the talisman. And how was I supposed to fuse them together? A little guidance in that would be helpful.
“Just three words. Essence, devotion, dominion.”
“Back to them again.”
He nodded, studying the last rune.
Dorion hurried into the room. “Time to leave. They’re in the hall.”
My heart slammed against my ribcage as I recognized Felice’s sharp tone.
Dorion's jaw clenched. “I told Brys to keep quiet, but he's five and who’s to say what he’ll tell them. But he doesn't trust Felice, so it could go either way.”
My heart hammered as voices grew closer—one I recognized as Felice's sharp tone, the other a stranger's deeper rumble.
“Alright.” Lore wrapped his arm around me and grabbed Dorion’s arm.
A flit, and we stood in our own suite’s sitting area with the fire crackling in the hearth and Farris still snoozing on the sofa. My ladies had removed our dinner platters.
Sitting, Lore warded the room. His magic brushed mine as his ward settled, that familiar tingle of connection reminding me of what we were fighting for.
We went through everything. I retrieved the note we’d found and gave it to Dorion, who stared at it for a very long time.
When he looked up, his eyes glistened. “It’s her writing. She’s scared and there isn’t a fucking thing I can do to help her. I don’t know what’s happening to her, let alone why.” He carefully folded it and tried to hand it back to me.
I waved him off. “You keep it.”
With near reverence, he tucked it into his pocket.
Telling him about the note in the book I’d found behind the headboard only made pain crater his face even further. He grimaced when we described the drawing.
