“Artemis—”
But the healer’s expression only softened at Corvin’s reprimand. “We have been cursed, Necromancer. All of us.”
Luxwasdrenchedinsalt and blood; her skin itched and her chest felt tight. She stood beside the hearth, beside a cauldron suspended from a hook, and she sipped black coffee with a reluctant pleasure. They’d told her to sit. She would not.
Could not.
It was late. She’d nearly crossed into the Beyond twice. She was on the verge of hysterics. She could feel it bubbling away in time with the brew at her hip.
Too large a part of her wanted to run. She couldn’t ignore it. She’d thought she was brave. That she was determined to see this to its end. That her life—all she’d gone through—would be worth something. But the hollow hole in her chest leaked a darkness she couldn’t stopper.
Lux winced at the bitterness flooding her mouth.
“Can you not see she’s been through enough tonight?” Corvin glared at the healer.
“I didn’t tell her with any expectation. I merely told her because she asked. And because if she is to trust us, in what we’re doing here, then she should know.”
Trust. That single word encompassed a myriad of memories, emotions, and dreams.
Lux had no experience with curses. Only Riselda’s instruction and the healer’s own dismissal. It was the latter she addressed now. With a healthy amount of bite, she said, “Is it the dancing, then? Or the inability to love?”
“To sleep well,” said Artemis while Corvin groaned into his hand. “To sleep at all.”
“Let me guess. Riselda Grimrook’s fault again?” Lux choked on a frightful laugh. She could hardly focus on the conversation, never mind all the other snapping threads.
Pay attention. You cannot give up or give in.
She wouldn’t run—but she’d be damned if she didn’t allow Cecily Otterbee a second try.
“Alixsander Osric Alesso.”
Lux blinked dazedly at Corvin. “Your overlord?”
“He cursed us—using a mix of blood and fire and a healthy amount of intention. Unwittingly, we believe, assuming he meant to only harm his assailant. Distress distorted it.” Artemis spoke while tidying his space. “But that is the risk of blessed blood pacts, connecting us all. Now, every day we plead for respite and receive very little.”
“How? How can someone wield a curse so broad it spans decades of time? How can he still when he’s dead?”
Corvin’s expression turned pained. His tired eyes roved over her. Her stomach twisted. He said, “He cannot still. He could then.” He drew a deep breath. “And because of it, our bodies have petrified.”
“I don’t—”
“We cannot age, Ms. Thorn,” cut in Artemis. “We are stuck in a blasted worldly purgatory. To wield a curse requires the blood of the person you wish to lay it upon—you were correct. But to reverse such a thing requires the blood of the wielder themselves.”
This cannot be true.Her cup sat upon the hearth, forgotten. Her stomach knotted so tight she didn’t think it could ever be undone. It was…unfathomable.
“And he’s dead,” she finally said.
“And he’s dead,” agreed Corvin, picking at his sleeve.
Lux, lost for a moment in all the secrets and lies, suddenly snapped straight when Artemis murmured, “But he needn’t stay that way.”
Chapter thirty-two
Shedidn’trequireCecily’spresence to understand what emanated from the men standing before her now.
The want. It thickened the air.
“You cannot mean that,” Lux whispered in horror.
