A tight knot lodges in my chest.
‘As one might imagine, he didn’t take it well,’ continues Fox. ‘At first he thought it a cruel joke. A vicious lie meant to unsettle him. But then …’
‘I remember,’ I whisper. ‘He had those dark circles beneath his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. His hands would shake. I assumed it was all the pressure he was under …’
Fox clenches his jaw. ‘The curse was designed to make my grandfather suffer. To strike his Heirs down in their prime,forcing him to watch as they withered away to an early grave. For years he searched for a way to break the curse. And suddenly … there you were.’
There is a long, loud silence.
‘Me?’ I choke. ‘What?Why?’
‘Think about it,’ says Fox. ‘Why d’you suppose he told you about the three sisters? What did he want you to find?’
Realization strikes, lightning-bright. ‘The Eye.’
‘You were always going to find it, Blaze,’ Fox says. ‘Seera must’ve foreseen it, and so did my grandfather. There is nothing –nothing– more important to him than his legacy. Haldyn is the last Light Wielder. If he dies, the Maker’s gift dies with him. Our grandfather will do anything to stop that from happening.’ He laughs hollowly. ‘Believe it or not, Caius Castellion is on our side.’
I exhale shakily, stunned. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘Find the Eye. Break the curse. Kill my uncle.’
I rub my scar, hard enough to bruise the skin. ‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘There was already so much depending on you,’ Fox answers quietly. ‘How could I tell you that Haldyn’s life does too?’
My eyes widen hopefully as I’m hit by a sudden idea. ‘What about lachrymortis? There’s still one vial left.’
‘Lachrymortis is designed to heal wounds, not break curses. It wouldn’t work.’
‘Then Hal’s really …’ I swallow. ‘He’s …’
‘He’s dying, Blaze,’ Fox says softly. ‘My brother is dying.’
48
Elva
The floor of Hal’s chambers is strewn with an assortment of open books and rolls of parchment. He’s pacing back and forth through the middle of them, clutching a dog-eared scroll, his dark brows pulled together in concentration. Several orbs of golden light drift after him, floating lazily above his head and illuminating his face. His fair skin is moonflower-pale, his under-eyes still blotched with bruise-like shadows. My gaze lands on the empty vials of opium littering the large writing desk. I’m glad it seems to be allowing him to function, but the drug is not curing his pain – only dulling it – and growing reliant on such substances would be unwise.
I pick my way through the sea of papers. Hal’s head snaps up as I approach and a distracted smile softens his sharp focus. My heart squeezes tight as I imagine that smile sliding from his face when he hears what I came here to say.
I begin to make a list in my head – a List of Lasts.
The last time he’ll ever look at me like that.
The last time he’ll pull me close.
The last time he’ll kiss me.
His lips are soft and taste of lemons, and I linger longer than I should, savouring him. He draws back first but keeps his fingers twined with mine.
I take a deep breath and jerk my chin towards the floor. ‘Is there any particular reason you decided to ransack the library?’
Hal’s expression turns intent once more. ‘You remember the Eyes you overheard discussing my uncle’s plot to steal those prisoners? Well, after Marina got a tad …creativewith her persuasion, one of them finally cracked. A single word – that’s all he let slip.’
‘Which was?’
The orbs above our heads drift closer, as though listening in.
