Forcing her eyes closed, Amira tried to calm her breathing. This was madness. Could she betray Elyssa after everything she had done for her?
Amira hoped it wouldn’t come to this. Elyssa wanted to go up against Karwyn, to dethrone him and put someone better in his place. In her hopeless dreams, Amira had seen Tarnan win the contest. He would rule with care. Even after discovering her addiction to fortae, he had trusted her to keep the key to his secret library. He had told her he wouldn’t punish her for her pain. As time passed, Amira started seeing him as the family she’d never had. She hoped her father would have been glad to see them grow closer.
Exhaling loudly, Amira scanned the bookshelves, searching for books she hadn’t looked at yet. She landed on a small book crushed between two ancient encyclopaedias. The tiny leather-bound book had no title.
Inside, she found old-fashioned handwriting; the text mentioned witches and fae. Her heart beat faster. Could it finally be the answer to her problem? She kept reading, searching for a mention of a cure.
The next chapters were in an ancient language long forgotten by the fae. Amira shouted in frustration. She recognised it from the altar in the Turosian temple, but she couldn’t understand it.
The door creaked behind her, and Amira turned, the book pressed against her chest. Tarnan entered the room, his small, humble crown glowing in the light of the torches.
“Everything all right?” he asked.
Amira tried to give him a convincing smile.
Scoping out the state of the room, his eyes fell on Elyssa’s messy pile, and a smile graced his lips. “I was right to let you keep the key. I see you’re doing some thorough research.”
“I wish I had more time to read them all.”
Noticing the book pressed against her chest, Tarnan came closer. “What have you found here?” He extended his hand. Against her own judgement, Amira gave him the book, and he started skimming through the pages.
“I was curious about the old language. I have seen it only once before.”
“I can read some of it, but it’s a tricky language.” He closed the book and handed it back to Amira. “It’s the story of the origins of witches.”
“How Caelo cursed them?” Amira asked, intrigued.
“Not many know this anymore, but they were fae—theyarefae.” Pausing, Tarnan watched her closely. “The only difference is that they can master any power because of their abilities to harness the magic of elements around them instead of purely drawing from their life source as fae do. Fae became scared of their abilities, of the amount of power they could gain through practice. They started calling them witches, deeming them cursed,unnatural,even though they had existed since Liraen’s creation. The hunting began, tearing families apart and costing the lives of many innocent fae.”
Amira had stayed silent during Tarnan’s retelling. Why was he telling her such outrageous lies? Was he onto her?
“That can’t be true,” she said, unable to keep her voice from shaking. She needed to control herself; one mistake and he’d know who she truly was.
“Itistrue. Fae have always desired to possess their powers. That was when blood contracts for life came to be. They couldn’t harness a witch’s power for themselves, but they could control the witch to do their bidding, binding them for life to follow their every command. Some royals established contracts that would bind a witch to their bloodline, ensuring they would be trapped forever even when the current ruler passed away.”
Amira took a trembling breath. “Do you have a witch under contract?”
Tarnan shook his head, seeming horrified by the question. “I don’t and I never have. I’ve met witches in the past. Centuries of lies have irreversibly tainted their reputation.”
“If everyone believes it, it can’t be a lie,” Amira whispered, more to herself. Could she believe Tarnan? She didn’t doubt he meant it, but he must be mistaken. It couldn’t be true.
Tarnan laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I told you this before, truth is what the winners make of it. Remember what happened to the Dark King’s family? You won’t find those facts in any history book in Liraen. I have no doubt Karwyn has no care for the true origins of witches, whether he is aware of it or not.”
Her throat closed up. Tarnan was right; Karwyn had been keeping Cirny locked up and doing his bidding for who knew how long. He only cared about power, and if he knew about Amira’s true nature, he would find a way to use it for his own benefit.
“I have compassion for witches,” Tarnan said, his amber eyes kind. “To be so alone in our world, rejected by your own kind, that’s a fate I wish on no one.” Amira felt something shift in the king’s eyes. But it happened so fast she must have imagined it. “I should leave you to your reading, there is a lot to plan for the contest dinner. You should have Elyssa join you.” He eyed the messy pile of books again. “I have a feeling she’s quitethoroughtoo.”
A small smile sneaked up on her, but it evaporated as she thought of the upcoming dinner. Karwyn had already done his, and the tragic Quarnian dinner was still whispered about even in the Carnylen palace. Amira hoped that the Carnylen dinner in a few weeks would not end in such a tragedy.
Turning back to her book, Amira was unable to fully concentrate as Tarnan left the library. His words haunted her. Was there a kernel of truth to them, or had the ancient book been written by a witch desperate to exonerate themself?
A few minutes after Tarnan’s departure, she heard the door open again. Expecting to see Tarnan again, Amira raised her eyes from her reading. Instead of the king’s sunset orange eyes, Amira found herself staring into Elyssa’s golden, hazel gaze.
“I thought I asked you to do laundry,” Amira said, stumbling over her own words. To avoid Elyssa, Amira had actually given her tasks for once. Elyssa’s presence threw her off completely, her mind racing back to their kiss.
“I’m such an amazing maid that I’m already done with this most important task you gave me,” Elyssa replied. Her careful teasing made Amira’s heart pound. “What are you reading?”
Something compelled Amira to share her discovery with Elyssa. Looking into Elyssa’s expectant eyes, Amira repeated Tarnan’s words. “He told me witches aren’tcursed,” she said, ending her explanation. “But he must be mistaken.”
