Page 228 of Lady of Ashes

“Semantics,” she grumbled.

He grabbed her hand, bringing it to his mouth, where he pressed a kiss to the back of it. “Come with me, Love.”

He led her from the piano lounge and while they were making their way down the various corridors, she asked, “What is it? A Source?”

“Someone for you to draw power from, to restore your Avonleyan gifts.”

“Which is what?”

“Not what,” he replied. “Who.”

“Who?”

“Yes, who. You know Avonleyans depend on Fae to feed their magic.”

“How is this any different than drinking blood?”

“Because a Mark is given. The Mark, when activated, allows you to draw the magic that feeds your gifts directly from your Source, rather than drinking it from their blood,” Sorin explained. “I suspect it will be similar to how you draw from Cassius when needed.”

“Why can’t Cassius just be my Source then?”

“Because he is a last resort. You only draw from him if you are in danger. Additionally, there is the fact that he is not Fae. He will not feed your magic properly,” Sorin answered. “Drawing from him is like using a dressing to cover a wound until it can be properly cared for.”

He’d ?nally found the text in a book he’d gone to Solembra to hunt down. The book had been referenced brie?y in passing in one of the other books he’d been painstakingly translating, and, against all hope, he’d gone back to that chamber in the Fiera Palace and went through a dozen shelves before ?nally ?nding it. Whether it was luck or an act of the Fates, he didn’t care. He’d found it.

He’d brought it back to the Black Halls, where he’d stayed up most of the night translating the chapter on Sources. They had been created when the Avonleyans began having trouble controlling themselves when feeding. Although, in the book, they were not called Avonleyans but Legacy. The Fae were beginning to be treated more as a commodity to be used when and however the Legacy wished. They had been on a path that would lead to glori?ed slavery, Sorin had realized as he’d read through the material. Many of the gods became angered, proclaiming that the Fae had been created to keep the balance, a check against the power of the Legacy. Feeding off their blood became forbidden, and a Mark had been created to bind a single Fae to a Legacy.

If that hadn’t been interesting enough, he had also learned another tidbit of information about the Night Children. It was common knowledge among magic wielders that the Night Children had descended from the Avonleyans. What was not knownwas that they had been cursed by Arius himself for refusing to take Sources and choosing to continue feeding as they do now. As punishment, Arius stripped them of their Avonleyan gifts and cursed them to weaken in sunlight and be driven by their bloodlust.

God of Endings indeed, if the Sorceress was to be believed.

Sorin pushed open the door to the queen’s chambers, stepping aside to let Scarlett enter ?rst. She turned to him as soon as he followed her through, her eyes brighter than they had been in days.

“Show me,” she said, practically bouncing on her toes in excitement.

Sorin huffed out a laugh, motioning to the sofa where all the books and papers were scattered about on the low-lying table. He grabbed the book, opening it to the pages he had marked before handing it to her. While she immediately started reading through it, he poured her a glass of wine from the bottle he’d had sent up after dinner. She murmured a thanks, not even looking up to take the glass, too engrossed in her reading. He took a seat beside her, slowly beginning to remove the pins from her hair. Soft curls fell along her shoulders, and when he had them all down, he began twining one around his ?nger.

“This is …” she ?nally said, worrying her lower lip. “This is a lot to ask of a Fae.” She looked up at him. “This is a lifelong commitment. Once the Mark is given, it cannot be removed.”

“That was my understanding as well,” he agreed.

“You said you found me a Source?”

“I did.”

“Do they truly understand what that means?”

“They do.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Who is it?” The corner of his mouth lifted into a half-smile.

“No,” she said decidedly, lurching back from him.

He only arched a brow at her, waiting for her tirade. He’d known she would object to this. He was also prepared with his own arguments.

“You cannot be serious, Sorin,” she said when he remained silent. “You cannot be my Source.”

“And why is that?”

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