Amelia, on the other hand, would’ve probably cried tears of joy at the sight of the seer’s shelves laden with hundreds of books.
I’ll admit, I’ve cried a few times over the past week, but none of my tears were born of joy. Exhaustion. Frustration. Anger.Thoseare all emotions these books and the truths they contain have elicited from me. But joy? Not a fucking chance.
A headache isn’t going to stop me, though. Not when I’m desperate to fill in the gaps of my education as quickly as possible.
The sofa is hard against my back, and if I moved over an inch, I’d brush up against Gabriel’s leg. He’s sitting behind me, his legs spread in a distinctly male posture as he joins me in this quest for knowledge.
The steady sound of pages flipping reminds me of our purpose here, and with a sigh, I draw my attention back to the book in front of me:An In-Depth History and Examination of the Blessed.
The book is heavy, both in weight and material, and it feels like the author intentionally made it as confusing as possible. There are over five hundred information-packed pages, and I feel like I’m drowning in facts about the Blessed.
Also known as the gods-blessed. The Given. Marked Ones.
The Marks we bear? According to this, they’re not signs from the gods that we’ve been set apart from others. They’re symbols of the magic running through our veins, gifts from the gods themselves.
Only, the author makes it clear that Marked Ones aren’t able to use their magic from the moment they’re born. No, that would be too easy, right? It certainly would make lying to a whole kingdom more difficult.
According to this book, when our Marks start to glow, it’s a sign our bodies are adapting and preparing for a lifetime of upcoming magical use.
Notfor serving the fucking gods.
My eyes drift down the page, snagging on the paragraph I’ve been stuck on for the past hour.
In all their wisdom, the gods decreed that when the bearers of their blessings have seen two decades, they are ready to begin preparing for their gifts. A yearlong journey from when the Mark begins to glow, this time is meant to allow the Blessed to physically and mentally ready themselves for when they will gain access to the gods’ gifts on their twenty-first birthdays.
This author suggests training with other Blessed in order to...
The letters swim together on the page.
...gain access to the gods’ gifts on their twenty-first birthdays.
It sounds so nice. Easy even—something to be excited for. And maybe, in another life, it would have been something to celebrate. A life without Giving Ceremonies, where people weren’t ritualistically sacrificed before they ever reached their twenty-first birthday.
Some of the People of the Wilting Roses have lived that life. Skyler’s great-grandparents were born among them, as were several of the Marked Ones I fought alongside in the battle. They were never registered, nor have they ever stepped foot inside a temple. Their people hid them, made it so they were never found by Watchers, never slated to be Given.
Never scheduled to be Harvested.
I shiver, my mind bringing me back to sitting in this study with Evelyn a week ago.
“The first Harvest didn’t resemble what you know as a Giving Ceremony.” The seer’s eyes are heavy, and it’s impossible to ignore the weight behind her words, especially with the magical dagger clutched between her fingers.
“So it wasn’t a brutal murder hiding behind the thin veneer of a religious act?” My palms are sweaty as memories of Amelia’s Giving flash through my mind. Her scream. The crimson that painted the floor.
“No.” Evelyn’s voice is hard. “The act, fueled by greed and hatred, was carried out under the cover of darkness. A Marked One with evil in their hearts snuck into the home of another Blessed. Brandishing a silver dagger, they attacked them in their sleep.”
Gabriel snarls. “Fucking coward.”
“Yes.” Evelyn inclines her head. “They were filled with cowardice, and they caught their victim off guard. We don’t know if there was a fight, but in the end, darkness won. When the victim took their final breath, their magic departed their body in a flash of light.”
I suck in a sharp breath, and a ringing surrounds me. It takes a moment to realize it’s coming from my ears as Amelia and Kadyn’s deaths flash through my mind in quick succession. The flash of bright light. The rush that had coursed through me as Kadyn fell. The king’s fury and his hate-filled words.
“They stole the magic,” I choke out, the words barely audible past the sound of my panic. My Mark is a conflagration on my forehead, as if it, too, is confirming that my suspicions are correct.
“Yes. They Harvested it.” Evelyn opens her hand, and the dagger dissolves. The mist follows suit, as do the petals on the ground, until the only sign of her power is her glowing Mark. “The gods’ gift had to go somewhere. Magic cannot exist on its own—it requires a vessel.”
Evelyn had continued speaking after that, but I’d been stuck on the Harvest. Everything had been starting to make sense in an appalling, horrendous way, and I wasn’t sure what to do about it. I still don’t know what to do with all this information.
The Given have magic. Or they would if they reached their twenty-first birthdays.
