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“I want you to know, Kage Wilder,” he’d whispered once the blade was curled tightly in my boyish hand. “You are a prince of Magiaria and you are worthy of it. Should you ever feel you are not, I swear to you, I will be there to remind you that, in my eyes, you are stronger than you think.”
I gently returned my mother’s hand to the bed and took the wooden chair beside the king. For a drawn pause, I studied them—the king’s trimmed, silver-speckled beard. My mother’s occasional gentle sighs.
All this time, I’d never had a glimpse, no hint at a memory on what happened to place them in this endless sleeping spell. Not until Adira stepped into my dreams. The last nightmare revealed my frantic mother hiding theskallkrönor. She’d feared something would befall them.
Perhaps this was it.
There remained too many unknowns, but I now believed this was done to them by cruel magic.
Slowly, I lifted the hem of my tunic, wincing at the horrid, pulpy veins carving up my middle. Wretched, cursed fingers reaching for my heart. Soon I would not recall this cottage or that the two people I loved most were even here.
“I no longer know what moves to make,” I said, voice low and rough. “I’ve tried to find a way to end these curses, to wake you both, to find Arabeth, and I’ve failed all of you.”
As though they might respond, I paused. A pathetic habit, too hopeful to be logical.
When silence answered as it always did, I went on. “I wish the rot of curses was not robbing me of the past.” My focus dropped to the mage brands on my fingers. “There are times I hardly remember you; there are moments that are now nothing but shadows, empty pieces I know should be filled withsomething.”
Another sigh from my mother drew a smile to my lips.
“There is a woman here,” I admitted. “We bear the same mage marks. I call her a name found in these missives.”
As though my mother could see them, I laid out the old letters over the furs.
“Cruel magic still lives here, and it feels like it is growing stronger, like wicked mages never left. I hardly know who to trust.” With a scoff, I shook my head. “Not surprising, I know. You always thought me too suspicious.”
I leaned onto my elbows over my knees, and clawed my fingers into my hair, hiding my face. The truth was I was too late.Even if Adira strengthened, I wasn’t certain there was time before my magic turned to cruelty and the flame lighting these windows died.
Along with those inside these walls.
CHAPTER 21
Adira
“You did well today,”Destin said.
Shoulder to shoulder, we strode outside the palace walls, drawing in the chill in the air as folk bustled about the village.
“I didn’t really do anything.” I plucked a dried bunch of rosemary sprigs, lifting them to draw in the savory scent of their leaves before returning it to the stand.
“The power is there. I felt it through our touch.” He paused his step and took hold of my hands. “You’re gaining strength every day, Adira. I’ve all the confidence in you.”
There was a desperate sort of hope behind his words. I tilted my face toward the fading sunlight. Dusk in Vondell was promptly becoming one of my favorite times.
Sunlight, deep and crimson, always cast a fiery glow over the darkening leaves on the trees. Ribbons of mist coiled both in the morning and evenings, but at twilight the shade was an eerie sort of lavender.
Tonight, the strange double moons were both full, one pale like the one seen buried in the lights of Las Vegas, the other a rich, rusted color, like a polished penny.
I glanced at the prince. “The world seems so peaceful. It’s hard to think there is something corroding this place or how it even began.”
Destin was fingering a sleek bearded axe on a weapon stand. He returned the blade, then curled his finger. “Come with me.”
The prince led us through the crowds of the evening bustle, stopping more than once to greet his people, until we stepped through an arched iron gate back onto palace grounds. He held my hand, allowing me time to gather my skirt and step over a broken stone wall, then we strode into a thick tangle of overgrown hedges and brambles.
Ten paces beyond the hedge appeared a strange sort of mound. The sides were stacked in river stones, the roof made of sod and clay, and the door was rickety, held on by three rusted hinges.
Without pause, the prince stepped inside the strange hut.
I was forced to duck to step over the threshold, but once inside I could stand straight. Damp soil and musty wood filled my lungs, but draped along every curve of the round structure were large, thick pieces of canvas.
