Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 123190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
The space he puts between us is fractional, but it might as well be miles. “I was trying to protect you from it. Until I see Mordeus for myself, I—”
“What?” At the back of my mind, Kendrick’s words from yesterday click into place. I’ll kill him myself when we find him. When we find him. I lift my head and hold his gaze. “You believe Mordeus is back.”
His expression goes blank. “What were you talking about?”
“Who you are to them.” I shake my head. Mordeus is back. I’ve suspected all this time, but to understand that Kendrick believes it makes it too real. “How long have you known the Mordeus rumors are true?”
He searches my face for a long time, and the silence stretches taut between us, threatening to snap. “I suspected when I saw your scars and you said they were from Mordeus. Only scars from blood magic are delayed like that.”
Blood magic. They also talked about that the night at the campsite. He and Natan discussed it as if it might be the reason Natan couldn’t find my powers. I’d meant to ask about it, but then I blacked out and I was too busy recovering to think of it.
Kendrick takes my hand and skims his thumb over the knot of scar tissue on my wrist. “Blood magic was forbidden long ago, but some still use it.” He swallows hard. “When I saw your scars and you confirmed they were from your time in Mordeus’s captivity, I suspected the rumors about his resurrection were true—or perhaps he was never dead at all. When wounds don’t leave marks until much later, when scars suddenly appear like yours did, it’s a sign that the magic is being called upon.”
I shiver. “What does that mean—called upon?”
“Blood magic allows the caster to draw power from their subject. It’s not unlike the tethering Mab’s line was blessed with, where one faerie can use the power of another. Except blood magic doesn’t require a gift from the gods, only pain and suffering, and in some cases fear. Each wound inflicted as part of the spell becomes a small deposit of magical power that can be accessed by the caster at a later date. I knew he was alive because one cannot call on blood magic from the grave.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I would know if he was pulling from me.” Wouldn’t I?
“I don’t think it works like that. The only way of knowing is by seeing the scars appear.”
“So you knew.” I pull my wrist from his grasp and retreat a step. “That was days ago.”
“I know.”
My stomach roils. “We discussed his resurrection after you saw my scars, you said it was unlikely. You told me you thought someone was pretending to be him.”
He sets his jaw. “I told you what you needed to hear.”
“You lied to me.” It’s easier to focus on this than try to grapple with what it all means. Easier to latch on to the omissions of the man in front of me than to contemplate that my existence might somehow be helping—strengthening—a monster. “So is that how he did it? Am I responsible for his resurrection?”
“No. Nothing like that. If he’s back, there’s another explanation. Blood magic is powerful, but it can’t bring someone back from the grave.”
“You still should’ve told me. You are supposed to be the one I can trust.”
“I didn’t want to say anything until I had solid evidence.”
“And would you have told me then? Once you had your evidence?”
He closes his eyes, exhaling slowly. “I don’t know.”
I recoil. Three words never hurt so much. “I thought we were a team, but you’re keeping things from me. I thought I was part of your mission, but maybe I’m nothing more than a tool.”
His voice drops to a low rumble. “You know that’s not true.”
“Do I? You know what a mark Mordeus left on me. You know how much he haunts me. And you kept this horrible truth a secret.”
He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, the careful blankness of before is gone and his expression twists with raw emotion. “I’ve had informants in the Midnight Palace for months, Jasalyn. They tell me you’ve been a shell of a person since moving there. They tell me your sister had your maid search your chambers for knives because she believed you might hurt yourself—or worse. So, no. I didn’t want to tell you. I was afraid of what you might do if you knew that Mordeus was not only back but that he was using all that pain he once caused you to become stronger. Can you blame me?”
Can I blame him? He’s right. The idea that Mordeus is somehow drawing power from me makes me want to crawl out of my own skin. Three short months ago, when I hadn’t heard a single rumor of Mordeus’s return and when I had no idea he was drawing power from me, I traded my life for a mere taste of vengeance.