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“Be diligent,” he finished the vow of the high mage. A maxim young ones were taught on their first day of study. Destin snapped his fingers, signaling to two guards near the doors. They turned on their heels and abandoned the dining hall. “I plan to do just that, Kage.”
Soon, the guards returned with the gold Ravenwood arm ring held on a wooden board, covered in the linen that was used to pluck the ring off its stand. They held it out like an offering and placed it in front of the woman.
“Destin.” I shot to my feet. “You can’t be serious, that is warded.”
When my brother narrowed his gaze, the demanding side of his princely reign sliced like knives seeking to cut me down. “This is how confident I am every element is in place to begin awakening the power of the Blood Sacrifice. I’m convinced she has returned.”
“Brother,” I said, voice soft. “I know how deeply you want to clear out dark plagues, but we will find another way.”
“There is no other way,” he snapped. “This is more than us; this is for our people, for our land.”
“What are you both talking about?” The woman whispered. Atremble rattled her words, not from fear, more like she was fatigued, perhaps a little broken.
“You were drawn to this, My Lady. The arm ring is one that was passed down through the lines of House Ravenwood. It can only be touched by a true descendant. To our knowledge, only one descendant remains—the Blood Sacrifice.”
“It’s cursed,” I said, ignoring Destin’s scowl. “That’s what he’s not telling you.”
She yanked her hands away, horrified. “Cursed? What the hell?”
Destin looked ready to tear out my throat. “Wardedis a better term. I know you are of the first house, My Lady?—”
“No you don’t!” The wildling stood, shorter than Destin by a head, yet a withering sort of flame capable of leveling any man brightened her eyes. “You don’t know for certain, you hope. What sort of curse are we talking about here? Do I sprout horns, fall into a deep sleep, will I die?”
I clicked my tongue and pointed at her. “That’s the right track.”
“Death!” Her lips parted, and I found myself staring too long at the soft shape of them. She narrowed her eyes. “You want me to touch this thing even if it might kill me?”
“It won’t,” Destin insisted. “I know who you are.”
“Why is this so important to you?” She folded her arms over her chest. “Give me a good reason, because frankly, I’m done following the orders of deranged men.”
Curious. There was more to that tale, and I was a touch horrified how the growing warmth in my veins wanted to know more.
“I don’t care if you are a prince, don’t be a coward and speak in half-truths,” she went on, her tongue a blade. “If it’s a decent enough reason, I might be willing since I’m not one hundred percent convinced I’m not already dead. So, there’s that. You clearly want this Blood Sacrifice to return, and if you think I’m her, then I deserve to know why, and?—”
“Our kingdom is degenerating!”
Sound faded in the hall like a frosted wind robbing away the heat of a flame. The woman froze, eyes wide. After a breath, Destin propped his elbows onto the edge of the table, his face in his hands.
I let my chin drop. It ached, the truth of it. At odds most days, yet I did not revel in my brother’s tribulations on this matter.
Soon, I wouldn’t care at all.
“What do you mean, your kingdom is degenerating?” she asked, voice soft.
Destin hesitated. “Fifty season weaves ago, a tyrant rose against all lands. A great war plagued the world of Terrea—Magiaria is part of that world. All the folk of Terrea came together for a sacrifice of powerful magic—yours—and our shared enemy was defeated.”
“There were more blood sacrifices?” She looked at me. The burn of her eyes tore through me, captivating and unnerving all at once.
I glared at a small chip in the table’s edge. “We assume. That time in our history is darkened from the degeneration plaguing our minds and our kingdom.”
Destin took over the tale again. “Each land returned to their own troubles of restoring the order they nearly lost.”
Trade of potions and elixirs was how Magiaria connected to other lands. Some mages enjoyed interactions with the fae folk or elven people, likely to their familiar draw to the land and natural resources, but I had little interest beyond our borders.
“You said something about dark plagues. Is that what happened here?” she asked, urging Destin to continue.
He kept the stem of his goblet pinched between his fingers and spun his drink around, staring as though hypnotized. “Dark mages unwilling to move beyond the fight for power cast curses, and they embedded into our soil. They embedded into the magic of our veins. These curses rob us of our memories, of our lives long ago, and slowly it will degenerate our magic into that of the cruel ones who caused the trouble.”
