Page 153 of Crown of Briars
I went rigid, my body taut with awareness. Slowly, I sat us both up so she was cradled against my bare chest. “You found the bloodstone?”
Her eyes grew wide. “That’s what it’s called?”
I nodded. “It was buried long ago by my ancestors who believed the stone itself was cursed. They thought that, in surrendering it to the earth, it gave our people a chance to conquer the curse on their own. Obviously, they were wrong.”
Sybelle shook her head. “It’s amemorystone. It holds the memories of that day.”
I recalled Murvo’s claim that there were other requirements to break the curse. Excitement quickened my pulse. “Do you remember the exact words of the spell?”
She glanced around, her hair whipping back and forth as she searched for something. With a grunt, she scooted away from me, crawling toward our shredded clothing, until she found a crumpled piece of parchment. She thrust it at me.
“This is what I remember from the memory. I wrote it all down.”
My brows lowered as my eyes roved over Sybelle’s hasty scribblings. Something knotted in my chest at the sight of those haunting words right in front of me. For centuries, this curse had lived on, and no one had documented it.
But here were the words, scrawled on this wrinkled parchment.
Emotion thickened in my throat, and I forced myself to read over the words three times. I had heard stories of that day, passed down from my father and his father before that.
They had destroyed the witch clans. Without trial. Without mercy.
And now, reading the words of the curse, my stomach plummeted with shame and regret so potent that my eyes stung with unshed tears.
“You were there?” I asked, my voice thick. “In the memory—you saw what happened?”
Sybelle nodded, her expression grim. “Varius, it was horrible. What King Ragnus did…” She shuddered.
“I know.”
She stared at me. “You know?”
“I did not see it for myself, but my father told me the stories. I learned early on that Father only took pride in the most vicious and savage acts of destruction. The way he spoke of this slaughter, this execution… it was with a fondness that made me feel ill. Ialwaysknew that what my great-grandfather did to the witches was the gravest injustice.”
Sybelle’s eyes were moist with tears. “Well, I’m glad you know—thatsomeoneknows. I just wish something could be done to make it right.”
My gaze dropped to the parchment with Sybelle’s messy handwriting on it. Mother of Shade, I had been yearning to find the details of the curse. And this incredible woman had freely given it to me. I gave her a look of pure awe. “You have no idea what it means that you’ve shared this with me.”
She offered a hesitant smile, her eyes turning guarded once more. “I was researching everything I could about enchantments and curses. I found an ancient text that stated a witch’s spell can outlive her through her bloodline.” She pointed to a phrase on the parchment. “The curse will live on as my line lives on.Do you see? I think one of the witches had a child no one knew about, and that child lives on.That’swhat’s fueling the curse.”
My heart lurched with recognition. Was this what Murvo had been trying to warn me about? If we discovered who thisdescendant was, ending their life would end my people’s suffering.
“I still don’t understand why you think it’s Tislora,” I said slowly.
“She has magic,” Sybelle said shortly. “Witchmagic. She’s the only fae I’ve seen who casts spells like the witch in the memory did.” She paused, then said, “And also, the bloodstone is missing. Enzira and Ramia didn’t see it. But Tislora was with us when I lost consciousness. I think she might have taken it.”
“Sybelle.” I sighed. “I trust Tislora with my life. The things we have endured together…” I shook my head. “It cannot be her.”
Sybelle bit her lip and dropped her gaze to the floor, wringing her hands together. “I was afraid you might say that.”
I placed my large hand over hers to still her. With my other hand, I nudged my knuckle under her chin, tilting her face to meet mine. I leaned in, brushing my lips against hers in the softest of touches. She made a startled sound, then leaned into me, accepting my kiss. My arm came around her, pressing into her back and bringing her flush against my chest. A hum of contentment rumbled from me as the kiss hardened and deepened, our tongues clashing and breaths mingling.
When I pulled away, she was panting, her hands around my neck as if to pull me in for more.
I almost wanted her to.
“Whatever Tislora and I shared,” I said breathlessly, “isnothingcompared to what you and I shared here tonight. No other female has ever elicited such passion from me, Sybelle. It is you and only you. Do you understand?”
Her breath hitched, and she nodded, her eyes shining.
