Page 12 of Blood Curse

“The lower edge is flat against the skin. I can’t see where the metal ends and the wound begins.”

Stellan’s hands closed at his sides.

I looked at him. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“Angry. Frightened. I want to tear it off you.”

The Crown stayed dark. His feelings were his own. It wasn’t carrying an active command.

Lenora held the spoon where I could see it. “I need to test the rim. I’ll stop when you tell me.”

The choice mattered even when every answer was bad. “Do it.”

She used the rounded end. The instant the silver touched the Crown near my right temple, pressure bit into my scalp.

“Stop.”

Lenora withdrew.

Shit. Warm blood slid behind my ear. In the mirror above the washstand, a red line appeared before my hair hid it.

“It moved,” Stellan said.

“Inwards.” Lenora came around the chair. “The point sank when I tried to find an edge. The Crown has fused to the skin.”

My stomach turned. “How deep?”

“Shallow at the temples. I can’t tell at the back without making it tighten again.”

“And pulling?”

“Would drive the points deeper.”

“So it’s part of me now?”

Lenora answered without hesitation. “Attached to you. Not part of you. I’m not giving an unwanted piece of metal that much dignity.”

The distinction helped more than I expected. “Can the wounds heal around it?”

“They already are, which is why forcing it loose would cause more damage. We leave it alone until removal means something other than pulling harder.”

The skin at my temples pulsed with each heartbeat. I hated the weight of the metal and how my hair caught around its points, but I could live with leaving it untouched tonight. Pain wasn’t proof that action was useful.

Stellan crouched in front of me. “Then no one pulls.”

“Agreed,” I said.

Lenora handed me the small mirror. Dark metal pressed into my red hair as if my body had grown around it. There was no clean edge. No catch waiting for clever fingers.

I gave the mirror back. “Put it away.”

She did, without telling me how calm I was being or how much worse it could look.

Adrian’s blood had dried across my hands.

I noticed it all at once: dark flakes between my fingers, a black-red line under one nail and the sour metallic smell clinging to my skin.

“Water,” I said.