Page 9 of The Stygian Crown

“Uh oh. Amber eyes. What did you see?”

“Nothing good.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Suffice it to say that you might have been right.”

“Hmm. Sometimes I think that bowl’s cursed.”

“Do you spy on people with this all the time?”

“It’s a lover’s bowl. Only good for seeing people you have a deep bond with.”

“Does the bond have to go both ways?”

Serena nodded. “Though I don’t recommend it as a replacement for daisy-pulling. The bowl is much more fickle than that.”

“Can I take it with me?” Kara already wanted to look into the bowl again, regretted disrupting the image. What if she missed something important?

“Will you use it responsibly?”

“Probably not.”

“Don’t torture yourself, Kara.”

“Is that a yes?”

Serena sighed. “Fine. Justdon’ttry to contact the dead. Trust me.”

Kara poured the water out into the sink, and the runed stone quickly absorbed it. An odd idea wormed its way into her mind. “What happens if you fill the bowl with blood instead of water?”

Serena looked at her sharply. “Mother Night, what would even possess you to ask that? I don’t know, and I wouldn’t like to find out. I don’t practice blood magic.”

“Do you know someone who does? Logan told me I’d be able to use it eventually.”

Serena frowned and chewed her lip. “There is another mage at the palace…a man named Salizar. I wouldn’t choose him as your teacher, though.”

“Why not?”

“Some people crave power so much that they have no respect for how they acquire it. There have been rumors among Namirah’s Chosen at court lately. He’s peddling a supposed antidote to the monthly keening.”

Kara stalled, heart fluttering in her chest. “That exists?” Logan would have mentioned such an alternative to her, right?

Serena glanced at Kara and twisted her hands together. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you of this. I doubt it works, Kara. He’s still refining it, and some of the women have gotten sick from it. Besides, Salizar does nothing without an ulterior motive. Some things are better borne.”

“You don’t know what it’s like, Serena. To lose control, lose yourself. If it works, that would be…”

Serena lowered her eyes. “You’re right. It’s your decision. Just be careful.”

Kara caught Serena in a hug. The mage’s body was stiff, arms at her side. She slowly relaxed and returned the embrace, gingerly patting Kara on the back.

“Thank you,” Kara said.

Chapter Three

Time, as it did most places, moved swiftly in Lerathil. Kara went to her appointment with the modiste that week. They draped her in fabric and poked her with stray pins for hours on end. The shop assistants presented her with swatches of fabric in a hundred different colors and textures, and Kara mostly went with her gut. The silk looked less scratchy than lace; she preferred darker, striking colors to pastels. The dressmaker complained about her ‘breeding hips’ and muscular arms multiple times, asking if she'd made a hobby of lifting bricks at Briarcliff. Kara left the shop exhausted, hungry, and lightly perforated.

Garments began to slowly arrive at the palace, and Merry filled up the armoire with them, gushing over the quality of the fabric and the stylish, if revealing, cuts. Serena’s bowl was currently in the depth of that same armoire, burning a hole into Kara’s brain. She fought the urge to look into it every night. Serena had warned her about jumping to conclusions, but Kara was afraid of what she might see if she looked again. Afraid to see something unmistakable.

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