Page 34 of The Incendiary

I’d assumed from the first time he sent a note to the cabin in Varamuth that he must be using some sort of tracking spell. As for knowing what I was doing? I had no idea how his magic worked. When he erased who I was, he erased all my memories of him, too.

I scribbled back.

What’s wrong? Are you worried the prince you chose for me won’t sweep me off my feet? Or are you feeling a little guilty? Is that why you’ve been too much of a coward to show your face or come stop me yourself?

The paper disappeared the moment my pen lifted. I tapped my foot on the cell floor, occasionally glancing back at the guards. I snatched the note back up the moment it returned.

Elias is good and honorable. He has worked his entire life to become what you need.

It took everything not to snap the pen in half. I pressed it to the paper so hard that the tip bled through to the other side.

You don’t know what I need.

A minute later, the note rematerialized.

I know you better than you know yourself, Aryella Jay Whitlock.

The gods-damned audacity. I despised that Simeon knew everything about who I’d once been. My power. My mother and father. The life he took from me. All I had against him was will, resistance, and anger.

The girl you think you know is dead. Feel free to write back later. Or never. I’m a little busy at the moment.

The subtle wind that always accompanied his notes was charged with a bit of heat.

Do not play games. Countless lives are at stake.

I cursed at him under my breath, condemning his feigned altruism.

Were lives not at stake during the four hundred years you kept me trapped and asleep? Go ahead and tell Elias the truth. I’ll leave it to you to explain everything, back to the beginning.

His response surprised me.

I won’t stop you. Trying to stop either of you has only ever created more problems for me. But know that this is deceitful.

Fury boiled my blood. He couldn’t be serious. Reprimanding me for dishonesty?

If deceit is the game we’re playing, Uncle, it wasn’t me who made the first move.

This time, when my note disappeared into whatever realm or dimension he sent it from, it didn’t return.

TEN

GAVIN SMYTH

I think about our kiss in Brinnea a lot. Probably more than I should. In this lifetime, it was my first. But I know our true first kiss was over four hundred years ago.

—UNSENT CORRESPONDENCE FROM QUEEN ARYELLA I TO THE BUTCHER OF NYRIDA

23rd of Aesta, 402 Years Ago

I put the guard’s armor back on and followed her down the stairs, through multiple hallways, until we reached massive wooden double doors. She used all her body weight to push them open.

“It’s nearly empty,” she whispered, motioning for me to follow. “But I’ll go first. Meet me by the bookshelves in the back.”

I waited by the wall beside the entry, as instructed. Black iron, spiral staircases stretched floor to ceiling, providing easy access to upper shelves. A large chandelier hung from the arched ceiling, flickering brightly against the darkening skies beyond the stained-glass windows.

There had to be thousands of books in here. It was difficult not to imagine us both spending quite a lot of time here together, if our situation ever allowed for it. Ella’s beautiful mind captured by a book while I lingered close by, watching over her.

One older woman sat on the other side of the vast, high-ceilinged room, with her nose buried in a book. She seemed oblivious to our presence. I moved quickly to the dimly lit stacks of shelves Ella had disappeared between.