A sharp truth.
He continues. “Which brings me to my second concern.”
I fight the bitter laugh rising in my throat. I’d willfully forgotten he had two concerns. His first was terrifying enough.
“The blood bind has attached to the ribbon,” he says. “Not to the blade.”
It’s Lethian ribbon. When the runes first spilled onto my arm, my Lethian armor had fought hard not to let that dark magic through to my skin, where the ribbon was embedded.
“If this ribbon weren’t blood-bound, it would sing to me.”
Stellen is now very close to me, his fingers playing along the edges of the image.
“I heard the echoes of its story when I first saw you,” he whispers, his voice such a mesmerizing hum that it’s as if…
He’s echoing the beauty of what he heard.
Singing it to me now. Captivating me with it…
“This ribbon fell freely from your hand and swayed to its own rhythm. Somewhere in the past, one of my ancestors must have gifted this ribbon to the Oracle at the time for the purpose of concealing the blade. The ribbon can’t have been stolen or forced into service or it would not have sung its song to me so freely.”
His eyes meet mine. “These silken threads were happy to be held by you, Thyra.”
Suddenly, my fear drains from me. Despite the darkness of the curse, despite the manipulation of my Oracle power, despite the threat of the blood bind, this one thing is good.
Or…it was.
“If the ribbon weren’t bound,” Stellen says, “I could coax it out of your arm, and the blade would come with it. Do you see?”
He brushes his thumb from my upper forearm down to mypalm, sending shivers of pleasure scattering across my skin. “The ribbon is behind the blade in places, sitting between your body and the metal. If I could lure out the ribbon, I could bring out the blade too.”
A deliverance I desperately need, but the reality remains. “If it weren’t bound.”
“It happened right before I came to you.” His voice becomes so sharply cold that it sends a chill down my spine. “Me, the only living Lethian capable of singing to this ribbon.”
Gone is the brightness in his face, the flicker of hope in his eyes that flared when he spoke of blazing stars. “This grievous darkness has silenced the ribbon’s song. There is no greater sin than to silence the Voices of those who have passed.”
My shoulders sink as my fear returns. “The False Queen… This curse… She’s playing a game with me.”
You will rip and tear at their hearts.
Her malicious whisper echoes back at me.
“Like it or not.” Stellen swoops close, his lips brushing my ear. “Now you must decide, Thyra: will you play for yourself? Or for the fate of every fae in the three kingdoms?”
Stellen’s question brings a sudden hush.
A breathtaking drop in air pressure tells me the wind has died down outside the forest.
He asked me if I was fighting for myself or for the future of every fae in the three kingdoms, and now I say, “Both.”
With my reply comes a deeper silence, but it’s beyond Stellen’s scrutiny.
Until I spoke, the air around me was filled with whispering wood and leaves, soft sounds I barely noticed until they vanished.
Now, the silence is sudden and sharp and it has an immediate impact on Stellen.
He jolts back from me, his gaze suddenly distant. “Danger is coming.”
