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Rivulets of dark crimson turned black by the shadows of the stairwell trickled from the girl’s eyes, her nose, the corners of her lips.
Lurel whimpered, then hung her head once more.
Cora couldn’t cry, couldn’t scream, couldn’t move, could do nothing as she felt the emotion, the energy, and the life leave Lurel’s body.
15
Cora was no stranger to death. It had first entered her life when her parents died. Next, it had arrived courtesy of Morkai when he’d murdered Queen Linette. More recently, she’d delivered several souls to death’s door; first with Erwin, the hunter who’d tormented Valorre with an iron-barbed whip, then a camp of hunters, their rum poisoned by belladonna placed by Cora’s own hand.
But this…
Lurel was different. Her death was senseless. Unfair. Untimely. Just like Cora’s parents’ deaths had been. Linette’s too. And yet, Lurel’s carried the same weight Erwin’s and the hunters’ did.
Because this too was Cora’s fault.
Words of blame echoed around her, shouted by Lord Kevan. They resounded up the stairwell—now lit by several lanterns and the first blush of dawn peeking through the windows. All she could do was accept his condemnation. She couldn’t refute what Lord Kevan was saying.
“She was supposed to stay with you. She was not to leave your side. Why was she in the tower? Why?Why?”
Because I told her it wasn’t haunted, she said to no one as she let Kevan continue to shout at her.Because I left the castle. Because Lurel woke up alone and came to find me.
Her eyes stared sightlessly at the space where Lurel had lost her life. A stair now empty after the girl’s body had been hauled away. By the time Cora had shouted for help, it had already been too late. Lurel had taken her last breath in Cora’s arms.
“Look at me and give me a reason why my daughter is dead.”
Cora managed to tear her gaze away from the empty stair to take in Kevan’s stricken face. He stood several steps down from her, still dressed in his nightgown and robe. A robe that bore a crimson stain from where he’d cradled his daughter’s face to his chest with a wail Cora could still hear piercing the air. His face was pale, his eyes rimmed with red. Sorrow poured out of him, slamming into Cora’s threadbare mental shields and pummeling her with emotions that were not her own. Or perhaps they were. She was in a state of shock. Of numbness. Of feeling everything and nothing at once.
“Tell me why you’re dressed in a riding cloak in the middle of the night.”
The lie would be a simple one. Lurel left my room in the middle of the night. I donned my cloak to go look for her. But she couldn’t utter the words.
Lord Kevan took a forbidding step up the stairs, his face contorted with rage. “Tell me why my daughter had blood streaming from her eyes! Give me an explanation, or for the love of the seven gods—”
“Lord Kevan.”
Cora stiffened at her brother’s voice. He hadn’t been awoken when the chaos erupted, which meant he might not yet know what had happened. Kevan whirled to the side, revealing Dimetreus at the base of the stairs, shadowed by two guards.
“Watch your tone with my sister,” Dimetreus said.
Kevan’s chest heaved as he stared down at Dimetreus, but he managed to cut off his tirade.
“I’ve been informed a great tragedy has befallen us,” Dimetreus said with gentle calm as he ascended the staircase, stopping when he was next to Cora. Placing himself at her side was a silent statement, demonstrating his support of Cora while reminding Lord Kevan of his place. Or what should be his place. Dimetreus’ demeanor reminded her so much of the confident monarch he used to be that it cleared some of the grief clouding her mind. “You have my condolences, but please do not take your sorrows out on my sister. We are lucky she found Lady Lurel.”
Kevan huffed. “Lucky. Perhaps you, Majesty, can shed some light on why my daughter was in the tower in the middle of the night.”
“It is a fool’s errand to seek such explanations, trust me.” A note of sympathy deepened his voice. “My only guess is that she couldn’t sleep. The library is stocked with ample reading material—”
“Reading material,” Kevan echoed. “What in the name of the seven devils would she possibly have wanted to read in there? She was forbidden from stepping foot inside the cursed room. And…trust you?Trustyou? You were in league with a sorcerer. Perhaps you still are. Perhaps you’re the reason my daughter wept blood when she died.”
“Wept blood,” Dimetreus whispered, his face going a shade paler. “Cursed room.”
Cora’s stomach bottomed out. Whatever Dimetreus had been told about Lurel’s death, he hadn’t been given the whole story. A dark dread crept over her, clearing the remainder of her somber fog. This was not the time to get lost in her grief. In her guilt. She took a step closer to her brother and laid a gentle hand on his forearm. “Dimi.”
He flinched at her touch and whirled to the side, casting a glance at the closed door at the top of the stairwell. His eyes grew wide. Haunted. “What significance does this room hold? Why was Lady Lurel forbidden from entering the North Tower Library?”
Kevan gave a disbelieving shake of his head. “You’re going to claim ignorance about that too, then? That you had no idea your own library had been turned into a sorcerer’s lair?”
Dimetreus flinched at his words, and he began to shrink in on himself. His regal demeanor drained to match the sudden pallor of his skin. “Sorcerer’s lair?”
