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“You’re over a hundred years old?”
“Yes,” she says in a deadpan tone that reminds me of Laila’s. “Make the flower alive, Kira Belvedere.”
“But I don’t know how. You haven’t taught me.”
She scoffs and moves away, leaning against her desk. “The descendent of the great necromancy king would know.”
What she means is if it is your aptitude, then you won’t need a spell. You can do it by following your instincts,Cyrus explains.Take a deep breath, and concentrate on the flower.
I nod, half to Cyrus and half to myself. Teaching this old crone a lesson sounds super appealing right now. Maybe I want that even more than I want to be off this godforsaken island. More than I want my old life back.
I sense a dozen pairs of eyes trained on me, willing me to fail. Well, except for Laila’s. But I tune them out. I breathe in deeply and release it slowly, thinking back to our meditation lesson the other day. Then I concentrate on every aspect of this flower. From the dry, brittle petals to the spiky stalk in my hand. I imagine all the cells inside this flower reversing themselves, going back in time. Back to when this flower was still attached to the plant that nurtured it. When its sweet scent lingered in the air and attracted bees to it. I think about the gentle breeze surrounding its delicate body and the nutrients coming up through the soil.
This flower used to be part of the world. It was a small part of the world, but it belonged, and its life had purpose. And while all things must die, there is an opportunity for some creatures to be given a second chance.
I want to give this second chance. I want it to thrive. To live again.
I breathe in, wishing I had something to say. A spell to cast. Nothing is happening, and out of the corner of my eye, I notice Morrigan cross her arms over her chest. I’m certain she’s about to step forward and take the flower from my hand, but I don’t want her to win. I won’t let her.
Exist, I tell the flower with my mind.Exist!
And then I feel it. The essence of power flowing through my veins. The blood shared with the necromancy king that brought Cyrus back to life.
I reach forward and grab Morrigan’s arm, yanking her hand towards me. With her sharp, claw-like fingernail, I cut my thumb, drawing a drop of blood and allowing it to flow onto the flower’s stalk. Then I let her go.
“It’s working,” I murmur, watching time reverse. Watching the colour return to this once-pretty yellow flower. After just a few seconds, it’s alive once more. The petals no longer shrivelled, the stalk no longer twig-like.
With a triumphant smile on my face, I pass the yellow daisy back to Morrigan. She turns it over in her fingers.
Eventually, she looks at me. “Very good, child,” she says. “Necromancy is your aptitude.”
Thirty-Four
Kira,I need to say something you aren’t going to like, Cyrus says.
I’m sitting with Laila in the recreation room, where she is whooping my arse at chess.
Spit it out, Cyrus.
“Check. Mate.” Laila grins.
“You got me,” I say, trying to separate Cyrus in my mind from the world around me. It’s a very strange thing to need to do.
Morrigan knew your ancestor. If you want to learn more about Alaric Belvedere and why he created a spell with such a huge loophole, you should talk to her.
I pick up the knight piece and turn it over in my fingers.
“Want to go again?” Laila asks.
I shake my head. “Nah. I don’t think this is my game. Maybe chequers.”
I guess so, I tell Cyrus.But how am I going to strike up that conversation? ‘Hey, old crone, please tell me all about why myancestor allowed me to resurrect a long-dead vampire who could start a new war’?
Maybe don’t lead with that.
We’re packing away the chess board and pieces when Damien wanders by.
He stops and smiles down at me. “Ms Belvedere. I hope you’re enjoying the library books I found for you.”
