Page 122 of A Curse of Breath and Blood

With another tiny bolt of lightning, the little lock guarding Gideon’s secrets clicked open. The journal brimmed with Gideon’s most private thoughts, including observations on everyone he interacted with, from the servants to Erissa to the queen:

Aelia is nothing to me. Nothing but a useful pawn in a political game. I do not love her, although I cannot stand to be without her. I take her to bed because it is my duty. Soon, she will be beyond her child-bearing years, and I will dispose of her. At least she was useful in securing the Midlands.

The queen’s name stuck out to him for reasons he could not comprehend.Aelia.His senses screamed at him to remember, but nothing came to mind.

He scanned the page, detailing Gideon’s debaucherous sexual fantasies. His stomach turned at the unmasked depravity within.

The room went dark.

A wicked cackle filled the space, opening a pit in his stomach.

In the fireplace, a flame sprung to life, taking the form of a female body, twisting and turning until Erissa came into focus.

“Hello, prince. Did you think this disguise would fool me?” She snapped her fingers, and her magic enveloped him, revealing his true form, like ripping a shell off a hard-boiled egg.

“There you are. Still as handsome as ever.” An evil smile was plastered on her face. Her long crimson hair spilled over her white satin robes. An amulet of red encased in gold hung around her neck.

“Hello, Erissa, always a pleasure,” Caiden said as he fired a bolt of lightning at her. His hopes crumbled when it passed through her, leaving her unscathed.

Another devious cackle. “You didn’t think I’d actually show up here in person, did you?” Her voice echoed through the room.

Iron shackles clasped around Caiden’s wrists. Gideon stood in front of him, wicked as ever. Chaos danced in his dark eyes. Caiden’s heart twisted in fear at the sight of Gideon’s long incisors glinting in the flames. More sylph than man, the blood binding transformed him into a monster.

Iron seared into Caiden’s skin as Gideon led him away.

“Come with me, prince. Someone is waiting for you.” He yanked on the chains.

45THARAN

Tharan’s sensesscreamed at him to go after Aelia, but their efforts were better spent apart. He hurried up the stairs, hoping the invisibility potion lasted long enough for him to find something and return before Aelia did.

Hundreds of candles, all burning low, lit the study with an eerie glow. In the center, a desk made of mirrors sat decked with tomes and scrolls.

Tharan rifled furiously through the papers, covering the history of magic in Moriana.

Why did Erissa require all of this? What relevance did it hold in relation to Gideon’s insatiable thirst for power?

A red leather journal lay hidden in one of the mirrored drawers. Flipping through the pages, a map with an ‘x’ caught his eye. A note next to it read:

Trinity Well?

Tharan racked his mind for the stories he’d heard as a child. Stories of the magical wells formed by each sister of the Trinity in secret. Wells of immense power. Power to raise the dead, powerto set the sea ablaze. Tharan swallowed hard. Power to turn a man into a god.

Erissa had been a follower of Crom Cruach. He obsessed over the origins of magic.

The pieces of the puzzle placed themselves in Tharan’s mind.

Erissa attacked the Court of Sorrows to gain possession of the Army of the Dead. With an army of that size and ability, she could trample over Moriana until she found the magic she needed. Gideon was a pawn in her game. He could play as conqueror while she amassed her desired power.

Tharan’s breath caught in his throat at the thought of Erissa wielding the power of the Army of the Dead. She hadn’t found the scepter, for she would have used it against the Woodland Realm. If she didn’t have it, then who did? Maybe no one. Maybe it was still in the Court of Sorrows waiting to be found.

He needed to return to the ruins of the Court of Sorrows and search for the scepter, but that would have to wait.

Tucking the dairy into his smock, he headed for the door, only to run face-first into an invisible barrier.

“Going somewhere, King?” a voice as smooth as butter whispered in his ear.

Behind him, a gust of air whirled, revealing a female form.

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