Page 27 of Queen of the Crimson Throne

Red blood pooled in my palm as her hand cradled mine.

She discarded the dagger on the table and searched for her pouch again, this time retrieving a small vial. The sun had all but disappeared now, making it impossible to see the contents. She uncapped the bottle with her teeth, spitting the cap on the table before shaking the contents onto my bleeding palm. The substance came out in flakes, causing a sting as it mixed with my blood.

“Close your fist,” she instructed, finally letting go of my hand, only to repeat the process on her own palm. When she was finished, she grasped my hand again, motioning me to open it. As I did she pressed our bleeding hands together and mumbled under her breath.

The air around us seemed to still, the chatter of the market silenced as if we were the only two people remaining.

My skin that touched hers burned as she continued to speak the spell in a language I was unable to comprehend. The burning intensified, seeming to seep its way into my blood and into my veins, spreading the heat and burn throughout my body. I winced under the pressure, so intense it threatened to take my legs out from underneath me.

The witch’s voice became more urgent as I gritted my teeth against the pain. What the fuck was this magic?

In an instant, the pain stopped. The sounds around us returned and the witch opened her eyes, removing her hand from mine.

A wicked grin spread across her ageless face. “It is done.”

I swallowed and looked at my palm, the line she had sliced across now bore a black mark that glittered red as I moved it against the moonlight. “It will disappear in a couple of days.” I’d have to hide it from Lennox until then. She’d gladly slice my neck for coming back here.

When I looked back at the witch, she had all but dismissed me, returning to packing her books.

“What about my questions?”

“Ask away, boy.”

“Where can I find the goddess Astria’s original spellbook?”

The witch didn’t bother to look from her books as she answered, “No such thing exists.”

“What do you mean it doesn’t exist? There are people across Lethenia searching for it!”

“Astria never had a spellbook, she was never truly a witch,she was a fallen star, so she never needed spells. Her magic has no restrictions as spells do.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense, what is it that everyone is looking for?”

“I cannot tell you what your seeker is truly looking for, but I can tell you there is an original spellbook, but it does not belong to Astria, it belongs to Hecate, the original witch.”

Well, wouldn’t it have been convenient if the original witch had mentioned that?

“Although, I don’t believe Hecate’s spellbook is what your sender is searching for. I suspect they have discovered Astria kept journals.”

“Journals?”

“Yes, journals. Stories say that’s where Hecate got the idea for the spellbook, from Astria’s detailed retellings of her experiences in her journals.”

“Where can I find these journals?”

“That I do not know.” She flipped through the book in front of her.

“What? All this and you don’t even know where the journals are?” I pressed.

She turned her gaze on me, “Remember who you speak to, boy, I could turn you to ashes with the flick of my fingers.”

“So could I,” I said through clenched teeth.

We stared at one another, neither of us daring to look away first.

She rolled her eyes and sighed. “But now that you know they exist, I imagine you could do a spell to find them.” Good thing I knew of a couple of witches who could help me with that.

The Scribe looked up suddenly, her irises burning red.Goddess above—“You should go, boy, something dangerous lurks in the darkness. Something not natural is coming.”

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