“Thyra.” Stellen’s voice is bare of power as he catches hold of my hands and pulls me toward him. “Focus past the fear. Focus on the details.”
We’re still kneeling side by side, and his action urges me to turn fully to face him. He slides one hand along my blade arm, wrapping his fingers around my upper forearm and, in doing so, covering most of the runes. Along with the scratches I made.
Obscuring them all from my view.
Moments ago, he told me not to trust him. Now, it seems he’s trying to soothe me.
I shake my head at him. “You’ve given me so many warnings.”
“And I’ll give you more,” he says, meeting my eyes. “You’re right to question everything I do. I play by my own strategy. I plan. I’m patient. I rarely act on impulse, and I’m not afraid towait for the perfect strike. It’s how I’ve kept hold of my power. Likewise,youmust chooseyourpath.”
He told me I wouldn’t be subservient to him. He made it clear I had the choice to leave—and then pointed out how life-endangering that would be.
“You’re free to tell me whatever you will,” he says. “Just know that I can tell when someone’s lying.”
His hand slips away from my arm as he leans back a little.
Wordlessly, I catch him before he can move away, pressing his arm back to mine, an awkward pose, but I need the anchor. I need the living shield that his arm provides against the uncertainty of the dark runes while I try to decide what choice to make. To tell him everything or keep secrets.
As the water bubbles softly nearby, I close my eyes.
Secrets inevitably become lies.
I take deep breaths for long moments until my heart calms.
As I breathe, his arm relaxes against mine, his fingers curling around my forearm again, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin near my elbow. Slow swirls urging me closer to him, distracting me from the heaviness of the past.
With a final calm inhalation, I begin.
I start by telling him about reading the Chronicle in the Iron Kingdom’s royal library. I describe what the book showed me: first, an ashen field, and then what appeared to be the forging of the blade, which turned into the blade’s breaking.
I explain my theory that to break the curse, we need to bring together all of the pieces that were used to create the blade and use those pieces to shatter the blade instead.
Then I explain how I found the hammer, pulling it from the vault in the Vividari temple, and how it spilled darkness across the sky. Finally, how the runes transferred to me and the hammer crumbled.
I suppress my shudder as I remember the blade vision I hadwhen the runes transferred to me. I was standing in a bed of white rose petals, beneath the shade of a tree whose branches I couldn’t see. A breeze of oncoming winter had brushed across my cheeks, just as Stellen’s fingers now play along my forearm.
But the calm was split by the same horrible splintering of screaming wood I heard when I read the Chronicle.
The False Queen had appeared to me in that vision. She told me to accept the gifts she was giving me and to take the darkness. She said I would need it.
She told me to prepare to fight for my life.
As I finish speaking, Stellen’s hand tightens around my arm, a firm grip as I fail to stop my shiver.
He slips his arm beneath mine, his hand beneath my elbow. A support.
I expect him to ask about breaking the curse, to have a hundred questions, but instead, he says, “From what you’ve described, the blood bind must have been infused into the hammer, turning the hammer into a vessel. Merely a vehicle for the bind to find its intended target: you.”
His pale gaze pins me to the spot as he continues. “The ancient Merovians—that is, the Blood Fae—honed their magic until it could be used against a specific person. Or to the advantage of a specific person. Even bloodlines across time. I’m certain you already know this.”
I nod. I saw blood magic in action in the Iron Kingdom, where it was used to guard the catacombs beneath the Starlit Court. The same magic bound the ruby circlet that chained me to Antony. The ruby circlet is bound to the current Iron King. Now that Antony has died…
I accepted the ruby circlet as a mechanism to keep me safe. I can never accept such a thing again.
Stellen’s eyes narrow to unearthly slits. “Only the original Blood Fae who conjured this bind can know the bind’s trueintent and full purpose. Even if a fae commissioned a blood bind, they could never really trust that the Merovian did what they’d asked. That was what made Merovian magic so dangerous. In this case, the fact that the bind attached to you tells me it was intendedfor you.”
I shake my head, wanting to clutch at possibilities I know are unlikely. I want to believe that the blood bind could have transferred to anyone, but the Vividari must have handled the hammer, and the bind remained unmoved.
