“’Cause the Bloodstone will leak dark magic into my veins and cripple me, thus making me die a slow, excruciatingly painful death.”
The minute the words leave my mouth, Cadence gasps, and I freeze.Shit.Rainier had sworn me to secrecy. He hadn’t wanted Cadence to know how much her mother had suffered on her way out of this wretched world.
Silence settles over the library, silence interrupted by the steady tolling of the astronomical clock.
Bastian shifts on his chair, tugs on his hoodie strings, shifts some more. “Slate’s going to be fine.”
I want to believe this, but I’ve seen what the curses can do. Little Emilie’s tiny body rises into my mind. I shut my eyes but the image of her pink pajamas sharpens, so I pry my lids up and focus on the page Cadence is clutching.
“Any guesses on that cradle?” I want to focus on something other than the limp body of the child whom I failed.
Cadence tilts her head up, and I feel her clear blue gaze hunt my face. I don’t meet her eyes; I don’t want to subject her to my anger and intensifying negativity.
“The history book said the forest was the birthplace of the Quatrefoil. And since this hill used to be a part of it before it became a town, maybe that’s its beating heart? See, I listen in class, Professor M.” Alma winks at Adrien.
“Or it’s inside the actual forest,” Cadence says.
Bastian releases his hoodie strings. “It’s a big forest.”
Adrien slides Cadence’s pad toward him. “The new moon will abscond with the leaves unless cradled in Brume’s beating heart at eventide.”
“What about Merlin’s tomb?”Yes, I’m starting to believe Merlin was real. It’s worrying.
“We don’t know where it is,” Adrien says. “If it even exists . . .”
Bastian drums his fingers. “I saw it on the tourist map.”
Adrien shakes his head. “That one’s just for lore-seekers.”
My eyebrows knit together. “Cadence has a painting of it in her house.”
“That’s true!” She lets out a startled gasp that flutters a lock of her hair. “The shape of the Quatrefoil’s imprinted on the stone.”
“It could be allegorical,” Adrien says.
“But it could also be real,” Cadence counters.
“Except stones don’t beat,” Adrien, forever the spoilsport, declares.
“Maybe magical ones do,” I say.
“Look, I’ve canvased that forest and never come across his burial site or anything remotely resembling a quatrefoil-stamped burial stone, let alone abeatingstone.”
“You’re such a killjoy, Prof.”
“I’m sorry, Slate, but the new moon’s in four days. I just don’t want us to go on a wild goose chase.” He shoves a hand through the air in exasperation. “Awildergoose chase.”
Bastian pulls off his hoodie. His hair is flat in some places and sticking straight up in others. “The clock beats. Well, it ticks. But that’s pretty much the same thing.”
Adrien blinks, then slams a hand on the table. We all jump.
Waggling his finger at Bastian, he jerks to his feet. “You’re a genius.”
I admit it makes more sense than a stone, but I don’t discard my hypothesis. I mean, we are talking about amagicalhunt. What’s more magical than an old wizard?
Bastian follows after Adrien, who’s already rounded the shelving unit.
Alma stretches her arms over her head. “Wait up, B.” Her heels clack on the tiles as she trots after them.
