Page 157 of Prince of Darkness and Deceit

Please, Velmira, I pray. Let him be all right.

Lev shuts and locks the cell door with a finality that rings deep in my soul, severing the last thread that links me to him. At least, it should.

Lev’s always been driven. He’s always valued his father and his ideas. But for me, he overlooked the general’s judgement. For me, I thought he valued doing what’s right over doing what’s expected.

Looks like I was wrong.

Juniper waits until the door in the hall shuts before looking at me. “Let me treat your lip.”

She digs into her satchel, withdrawing a cloth and clear vial of antiseptic. After she moistens the cloth, I hold still as she applies it to my lip.

“Why have you not mended yourself?” she murmurs.

“I have.”

A pained look crosses her gaze at the realization that my injuries were much, much worse. “I am so sorry, my dear.”

“You did nothing wrong.”

“The book…” She trails off meaningfully, then moves her hand to clean the crusted blood off my chin.

“It’s not your fault.” I swallow thickly, then… “What do you know of the book?”

She lifts a gray brow. “Only what I told you. Your parents left it to me for you and Ferria.”

Suspicion tickles the back of my mind. “Did you ever open it?”

“Of course I did.”

“And?” I search her face. “What did you find?”

“The same thing I imagine the general found,” she says with a smirk. “Blank pages.”

I gape at her. “But…that’s not possible. I’ve read the book.”

“Magic encompasses that text, rendering it useless to those it deems unworthy.”

I frown. “You speak as if magic is sentient.”

“Isn’t it?” She drops her gaze to my hands.

White light flickers in my palms, but it doesn’t stay solid. It can’t.

Is my power sentient?

It certainly responds to my thoughts and actions, but I assumed I was subconsciously giving directives.

The possibility that it acts on its own is a subject I need to consider. Just as soon as I get myself out of this cell.

“What about the diary?” I lift my eyes back to Juniper’s. “Does it have the same…limitation?”

“No. Other than being written in a foreign tongue, the words are perfectly legible to anyone who can translate it.”

A sinking feeling settles in my gut at the thought of anyone else diving into those personal pages—at the thought of the mysterious woman’s words being lost to me forever.

“But do not fret.” She digs in her satchel and withdraws the small leather-bound book. “It is safe.”

I exhale a sharp breath. “How did you⁠—”