My mouth tips open, then snaps shut. Of course I’m familiar with that particular tale. Ingra even teasinglyrefers to me and mysecret loverby the names of the titular characters. But what does it have to do with anything? And why does Caius Castellion wish to tell it to me? I was right. He must be senile.
The old man doesn’t seem to require a response, for he clears his throat with a dragging cough and begins. ‘Noble, handsome Emmeric was born into a powerful family. He was heir to a large fortune and wanted for nothing. Yet our tragic hero was lonely. He wished for only one thing – to find true love.’
He pauses to grin crookedly at me.
‘Irabella was a rare beauty, with hair like cornsilk and eyes as bright as jewels. But she was also penniless, a mere servant, and because of this, nobody ever reallysawher. Nobody, except for Emmeric. Their love was pure and unselfish, soul-deep and star-crossed. And yet with love comes sacrifice. Emmeric could not allow his family to discover the truth for fear of what they might do, and so his relationship with Irabella had to be kept secret.’
The old man starts walking among the statues, limping a slow figure of eight.
‘Despite those who sought to keep them apart, all the young lovers wanted was to be together. Only their plans were foiled. Do you know why, girl?’
I wet my lips. ‘Because Emmeric was cursed.’
‘Indeed he was,’ the old man agrees. ‘He was cursed by a vengeful witch who blamed his family for her people’s ruin. Every story needs a villain, you know.’
I frown slightly, having long considered Emmeric’s power-hungry relations to be the villains of this tale.
‘She cursed the first-born sons of their House,’ Caius Castellion continues. ‘In destroying their legacy, she took away their dominion.An eye for an eye, as the Fidra say.’ For some reason, this expression seems to amuse him, and he lets out a wheezy chuckle. ‘Irabella was forced to watch her love sicken and die, knowing there was nothing she could do to stop it.’ He sighs wistfully, stroking his beard. ‘A tragedy indeed.’
I shrink backwards as he comes to a stop in front of me.
‘I told your friend Blaze a different story. She knows the beginning, you know the end. Though of course, there are no beginnings and endings. As one thing ends, another begins – a perpetual cycle, an eternal existence, a life thread that stretches on forevermore.’
A shiver travels down my spine. I can hear my heartbeat accelerate, a pounding frenzy next to the old man’s rattling plod. ‘What doesBlazehave to do with any of this?’
His black eyes are depthless, as dark and cold as death. ‘Everything.’
I grit my teeth against the mounting confusion. ‘I … don’t …’
‘Come now,’ he scolds. ‘Use that pretty head of yours. Who do you think has the power to break the curse?’
‘The curse on … Emmeric?’ My eyes narrow.Definitely senile.‘But that’s just a story?’
Caius Castellion smiles. ‘We are all stories, girl,’ he murmurs. ‘Just as we are all of us bound by this curse of blood.’
Part II
TIDES THAT BIND
28
Blaze
In my dreams, I scrabble desperately at the bars of a crystal cage, panic rising like the tide.
Far above me, perched smugly upon the Imperial throne, is Caius Castellion. Only he is no longer the young emperor from Fox’s visions but the old man I met in the library: sallow-skinned and frail, his narrow frame shrouded in robes of pale gold. Held in his hand is the Eye of the Future. I can sense its power pulsing in time with my own, like a second heartbeat. His voice is quiet and yet his words echo through my head.
Your enemy is close, girl. If only you knew what he has in store for you.
And suddenly it’s not Caius smiling down at me but King Balen, his raven eyes glinting with amusement. My insides twist with fear just as the doors to the throne room burst open and a child is dragged inside. Except this time, it’s not Senna.
It’s Renly.
I wake with a start, my breathing ragged. It’s almost dawn – the slivers of sky among the trees are a hazy golden orange. As I push myself upright, I register the dull ache in my lower stomach. I look down to find the front of my trousers stained with blood.
My heart sinks.Not now.
I try to stand, but a surge of nausea courses through me, stopping me in my tracks. The pain spikes. I feel it in my legs, my hips, the base of my spine – a series of sharp, violent spasms. Letting out a low groan, I lean over and vomit into the undergrowth.
