Page 51 of A Curse of Breath and Blood

Click.The door swung open, revealing the real Scepter of the Dead.

Handing it to Lucius, the men examined the artifact. Runes in an ancient language covered the hilt.

“Tharan, can you read this?” Caiden asked.

Tharan ran a finger over the bone, then quickly yanked it away. “It shocked me.”

“Don’t touch it, just read it,” Lucius said.

Sinking to his knees, Tharan examined the bone again. “I think… I think it requires some kind of sacrifice. Only the blood of the chosen will rule the dead.” He bit his lower lip, trying to make out the dead language. “I can’t read the rest.”

“Great,” Lucius said. “All this, and Gideon couldn’t even use the thing.”

“Maybe not. But I’m sure Erissa could figure out a way to activate it.” Caiden said, wrapping the scepter in a satin handkerchief. A sullen look crossed his face. “Where are Amolie and Roderick?”

My heart sank. “Last I saw of Roderick, he was taking on the hooded figure.”

Caiden and Lucius both shook their heads in disbelief.

“He never could resist a fight,” Lucius said. “I hope they’re alright.”

Caiden put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “They both know how to handle themselves and how to get back to the townhouse safely. Roderick is the best warrior I’ve ever seen. I’m sure they will be fine. We need to worry about getting out of here, fast.”

“What about the scepter? It belongs to the Wild Courts.” Tharan placed a hand on his sword.

No one moved.

Tension pulled like a taught knot in the air.

The sound of goblins approaching echoed through the hall.

We didn’t have time for a dick-measuring contest.

I launched into Theran’s mind. Grit filled my mouth.

Frantically, I searched through memories of the night. My heart skipped a beat as he laid eyes on me. His affection had been genuine.

Pushing my guilt aside, I moved to when the serpent attacked. Tharan thought only of me, of my well-being. An overwhelming urge to protect me consumed him. Pain tickled the back of my throat. This was wrong. Tharan cared about me.

I had to focus on the specific memory.

Carefully, I erased our time in the hallway behind the throne, taking any memories of the key or the scepter—replacing them with nothingness. Normally, I would concoct an elaborate alternative history, but time was not on my side. Black spots would have to do.

Caiden handed the scepter to Lucius, who disappeared into a cloud of smoke.

Tharan blinked at me blankly. “What happened?”

“You blacked out,” I said, hoping my lie stuck. “There’s no time to explain. We need to get out of here.”

Caiden mouthed a silent “thank you” to me.

We fled down a back passage to the entrance from which we came, but the portal we entered through had closed.

“Shit, what are we going to do now?” Caiden whispered, running a hand through his blond locks.

Goblins stalked the corridor above us. It would only be a matter of time before they came looking this way.

“The caves…” Caiden headed toward a crack in the wall. “This way.”

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