“This isn’t a game, Tilly. The curse is real. And it’s affecting all of us. Including you. Your feelings for Cillian may seem stronger than the rest of us, but those feelings may not be as true as you think. "You see, that’s what it does it confuses, with hate and anger.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I don’t have feelings for Cillian, and I certainly don’t have feelings for you. Do you think I’m stupid enough to fall for this?”
Torin sighed, a hint of frustration in his voice. “I know you’re confused. But trust me, things aren’t as simple as they seem.”
I crossed my arms, glaring. “Then tell me the truth. Was Seraphina once like me?”
Torin’s eyes flickered with regret, maybe reluctance but he didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached for one of my sketchbooks. I snatched it away before he could touch it, clutching it protectively to my chest.
“My sketchbook is private,” I said sharply. “Is that at least something you can respect?”
Torin raised an eyebrow, then slowly lowered his hand. “It should be obvious by now, Tilly. Seraphina was once like you. She made her choice.”
A cold chill ran down my spine. I had suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed out loud was still a shock.
“Who did she choose?”
“I told you that’s Seraphina’s business.”
I was becoming increasingly frustrated with Torin and his brothers, and the way they continued to ignore my questions.
“Why won’t you tell me?” I demanded, growing weary of his games.
“The thing is, Tilly… you want the truth. But when you find it, you’ll wish you hadn’t. That’s why I won’t tell you. I’ll leave that to my brothers and to Seraphina.”
SIXTEEN
THE SPELL
Amelodious voice drifted up from the garden. Drawn by the sound, I stepped past Torin and onto the balcony, the morning air brushing my skin. The sun-kissed vista stretched beyond the Sternwacht Grounds, and the scent of roses and dew filled my lungs.
Below, Seraphina moved around the fountain, scattering rose petals of every hue into the crystalline water with ritualistic grace. Her gown shimmered in shades of sky blue, and the jewels at her throat mirrored the heavens. She lifted her face to the sun, then bowed her head to the grass.
Torin joined me, silent. Though we stood within Seraphina’s line of sight, she never looked up. I strained to hear the words she repeated—in an odd and melodic language.
“By earth and stream,
by Vareth’s tongue,
Bind the bounds no one else may see.
Let the marked one be held,
within these grounds, safely spelt.”
One word rang out in my mind. Vareth. It sounded familiar. I’d heard it before… the day I was taken. It was the name in my head when the mark burned itself onto my skin.
“Vareth...who is he?”
Torin’s jaw tightened. “Not a name you should ask about lightly.” He said.
“What’s she doing?” I asked, my voice caught between awe and unease.
“She’s casting an ancient containment spell,” Torin said, his tone low and unreadable. Old Varethym words. Seraphina’s one of the few who still remembers the rites.
I glanced at him, then back to Seraphina.
“Is this for me?” I asked, though the answer was already clear.
