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“They’re coming closer together,” Asger murmured, more to Cy than me.
“Because this weave is ending. This weave is when it all ends,” he hissed back. “But it will not happen. I won’t let it.”
My friends did not need to speak it, I knew what weighedheavy on their chests. The more these half-formed thoughts tried to break through, the swifter the poison in my blood spread. As though two colliding powers were battling in my body—one wanted me dead, the other desperately wanted me to remember . . .something.
“Blood was given, blood is returned,” Destin’s voice carried. “Lady Adira, step to the flames.”
I cracked my eyes, still rubbing the phantom ache in my head, and watched as Adira slowly stepped to the edge of the basin.
Hugo, in all his brutish height and size, swallowed her whole when he offered the point of his knife.
A small grin began to spread over Adira’s features, like the man eased her worries. Envy scraped through my chest, and for a few heartbeats I would not mind if kind, soft-spoken Hugo Byrne stumbled into the pyre.
I shook the menacing thoughts away, and, along with everyone in the courtyard, held my breath when Hugo sliced the tip of Adira’s slender finger, dropping blood into the flame. No one moved, no one seemed to breathe until . . .
Cheers erupted across the courtyard. Painted in white smoke from the flame, golden specks took shape, a constellation written in fire. Glimmers of connections formed between the points until sharp lines fashioned into a golden symbol.
A seer from the Sanctuary made his way to the front of the pyre. The hem of his blue satin robes dragged along the stone, making it seem as though he practically floated. Being a seer, it would be deliberate, a way to seem more like a mystic or deity than a mage.
The old man stroked his long beard, humming as he studied the symbol in the smoke.
“It is written in flame.” He faced Adira, speaking as though this were any other bloodline ceremony. “The blood of your house shall henceforth be of the House of Ravenwood.”
My lips parted. A side of me knew the moment she touched the arm ring, but to see the final bit of evidence, I could not find a clear thought. Both a strange, hesitant shard of hope gathered in my chest, promptly followed by dread.
I faced Cy and Asger. “You both will help me keep watch on the woman.”
“Will you tell her the truth about why you were in the star tent?” Asger asked.
I shook my head. “I see no need.”
“She could help.”
“It is not her burden, and she will now have her own.”
“She has not shown any hint of her blood magic,” Cy said. “She will need it, for you know such a powerful house will soon be locked in the sights of what remains from the cruel ones. It finds and feeds on powerful blood.”
My jaw clenched. What Adira Ravenwood did not realize is she’d fallen back into a world of darkness, and she was defenseless without magic. “Then, should opportunities arise, we help her draw it out. Destin will be doing the same.”
Asger lowered his voice. “The prince will need her to find the crowns, but she’s from the house of curse breakers. She might be able to slow the degeneration for you and?—”
“She will—and should—keep her sights on Magiaria. Like we all must. One life is not so great when our world is at stake.” My life was my curse to bear alone. She was the Blood Sacrifice. No mistake, Adira would have a great deal more to fret over than my corrupted blood.
“Magiaria has been blessed by our goddess, our keeper, Mother Terrea.” Destin’s voice carried to the people below. “Alas, there have been a great many shields placed between Lady Ravenwood and the past. She must find a way to free her mage blood once again, but I assure you, my people, I will see to it she is tutored by my own hand, by our fiercest seers and scholars. But make your offerings of thanks to our goddess, for once more restoring our land with its formidable and wonderous line of the blood mage.”
The people cheered. My brother basked in their praises.
Destin was wise to keep the truth from the common mages, we agreed on it. Panic and fear would not serve mage folk, as we tried to save our land.
Most believed the reason we could not recall much of our pastcame from something wretched at the hand of the dark armies. Folk did not know the degeneration would find the magic in their blood and slowly eat away until there was no light in their eyes.
They cheered for her, but they did not truly know why she was deserving of their praise.
I could not tear my gaze off Adira Ravenwood, and the new glass sheen over her meadow eyes. She was uneasy—truly frightened—and I could not puzzle out why the thought of her agony was a hot knife to my heart.
CHAPTER 15
Adira
