Avalon and Hadrian kept their hoods up to conceal their features, for upon entering Emeraldis they’d discovered the king’s men had posted sketches of their faces throughout the city; five-thousand pounds in exchange for the capture of the captain and the princess, dead or alive. They’d also propped up a menu to keep curious eyes from seeing not just their faces but also the book, for when Hadrian had started to remove it from his bag, Clarice had nearly throttled him. Clearly, it was important.
Clarice ran her slender fingers over the engravings in the cover. Her blood-red lips twitched into a smile, as if she were reuniting with an old friend.
Hadrian leaned forward. “What do the engravings mean?” Kit Wilding had said Clarice couldn’t read the book, but she could tell them what it was—what it could do.
The Clan Hunter’s smile faded, as if the captain had interrupted some silent conversation she and the book were having. “It’s like a key,” she whispered. “You need to have all seven.”
“All seven what?” Avalon asked.
Clarice’s eyes, the gold of an owl’s, flashed up to meet hers. “Stones. Temple stones.”
“The Sacred Stones,” Hadrian murmured.
The Clan Hunter nodded. She ran her fingers over each engraving as she identified them, her rings gleaming in the candlelight. “Aquatica, Midra, the Shadowlands, and Hilsian.”
Avalon drummed her fingers on the chipped oak tabletop. “And what happens when we find all seven?”
Clarice sat back. “This book is one of the oldest items in Elderyn. It can undo any curse, no matter how complicated.” She jerked her chin at Avalon’s bag, where the mask was currently hidden. When they’d first found Clarice, they had filled her in on everything, taking a chance on trusting her with their secret. But since she’d wordlessly led them to this table, she hadn’t said anything about the warrior they claimed was trapped inside the mask. “The book will free your friend,” Clarice continued. “Whoever locked her inside that thing didn’t kill her. She still lives. It is merely a prison of sorts.”
Avalon chimed in. “And her memory was wiped. When I first found the mask, she didn’t even know her name. If we free her, will she remember everything?”
Clarice nodded once. “When a curse is broken, it is wholly broken. She will return to the girl she was before she was locked inside it.”
“And what about the stones?” Hadrian asked. “Where can we find them?”
Clarice leaned forward again and gestured to the first engraving—the shape of a heart. “The Water Stone—a sapphire consisting of two pieces last seen in the Water Temple beneath Lake Lomond.” With a graceful gesture to the second, a shape with five points, she said, “The Star of Midra—a white diamond protected by the Royal Family in the Realm of the Elves.” She moved onto the third. “The Moonstone, last seen in the Shadow Temple before it was destroyed.” Number four. “The Tears of Hilsian—three rubies varying shades of red.”
When it became obvious that she wouldn’t say anything more about the Tears, Hadrian sat up straighter and cleared his throat. “The Tears of Hilsian. Where can we find them?”
She shrugged. “I’m afraid I cannot help you. No one has seen the Tears for over a decade.”
The captain cursed. Avalon sank in her seat, studying the shapes carved into the thick leather cover. Her head was hurting again, and the space where her bracelet used to be felt naked. It lay deep in the pocket of her cloak; she’d forgot to put it back on.
“But if I were you,” Clarice drawled thoughtfully, her hair gleaming in the light of the chandelier, “the first place I would look is the House of Dreams.”
Avalon’s head snapped up. “The House of Dreams? It’s fabled.”
“I can assure you, it’s not.” When they made no further argument, she continued, “There is an island just off the southern coast of the Forest Realm. There you will find a crumbling structure that is home to the once-mortal queen, Kaia Stormblood. The place is filled with all sorts of foul things. But you must remember that everything in the House is only as real as you believe—it feeds off fear and whether a person believes in it. If the House decides to accept you, it will reveal the truth.”
“Like an Elven Mirror?” Avalon said.
Clarice nodded, her long red curls bouncing around her shoulders. “Some say Kaia Stormblood still lives, and that she waits in the House of Dreams for her one true love to find her. Not a soul who enters the House has ever come out.” A smile coiled up the side of Clarice’s stunning face as she added, “Good luck.”
Without another word, she pushed out from the table and stood.
Avalon stumbled to her feet, but Hadrian caught her by the wrist. “Wait!” she called, but Clarice kept walking, weaving her way around the drunks. “Isn’t there anything else you can tell us?”
Clarice looked over her shoulder. “I’ve told you all you need to know.” When she spoke again, her voice was so quiet her words nearly went unheard. “When you find the stones, don’t come back. Worse things than what lives in the House of Dreams will come after you.”
“Wait!” Avalon pulled against Hadrian’s hold, and he heaved himself to his feet.
“We’re done here,” he said. He gathered up their things. “It’s time to go.”
“Smart man,” Clarice drawled from halfway across the tavern. “You’ve got company.”
The doors of the tavern burst open, and a chill wind swirled into the now-quiet room, carrying leaves that scuttled under the feet of a cloaked figure filling the doorway.
The Wraith had found them.
