Page 40 of Crown of Briars
She strode into my room, her cloak swishing with each lithe movement, before placing the tiny vial atop my oak desk. “You cannot fix every problem, Varius,” she whispered. “That’s not on you. Your ancestors couldn’t break this curse, either.”
“That doesn’t mean I have accepted my fate,” I said through gritted teeth.
When Tislora continued to stand there, watching me, I said, “I will figure something out. I promise.”
“Very well.” She turned to leave, then paused at the threshold to face me once more. “I have spells available, if you need them. Spells to help make humans more… compliant.”
Icy horror chilled me to the bone at her implication, and I fixed a hard stare on her. Not a hint of remorse marred her expression. She only blinked at me with cool apathy.
My nostrils flared, and I bared my teeth at her. She smirked, understanding my refusal of her offer, before turning and leaving, the clicking of her boots echoing down the hall.
Long after she retreated, I took the small vial in my hands, turning it over. The mixture was inky black, even darker than my blood. And it was made with the last few drops of Sybelle’s blood.
After this, I would either need to extract her blood by force… or coerce her into giving it willingly. The former was how my predecessors would have done it, out of desperation and impatience. But the latter was the safest way to gain her trust and, hopefully, steer her in the direction of breaking the curse for me.
But time was not on my side. Even if Ididgain her trust, there was no guarantee she would fulfill all the steps required to break this curse.
Which was the better choice—to prolong the inevitable and grant my people a bit more time, while torturing a human in the process… or to allow my people to keep suffering while I attempted to woo the human?
With a growl, I uncorked the vial and downed the contents, smacking my lips at the foul, bitter taste. I shuddered, and my wings twitched as the elixir swept through me. My blood boiled, and I groaned, slumping over on the desk. It was an echo of the torment I endured in that cave, but it was better than having to go through it all again.
This tiny vial of liquid granted me another full moon of freedom. But after that, I was doomed. There was nothing left to save me.
Except Sybelle.
I thought of Clermont’s words:This is what’s done.
My father would have done what was necessary.
My clawed fingers curled into fists atop my desk. Rage arose within me, thick and volatile, as I thought of that murderous bastard. He had crossed every line in his desperate attempts to free himself from the curse. From the moment I had witnessed him choking the life out of one of his concubines, I vowed toneverbe like him.
Was this a sign? If my father would have taken blood from the human by force, was it my fate to do the opposite?
Or was I destined to follow in his footsteps no matter what?
I rose to my feet, my chair groaning against the stone floor as I made my way to the door. It still stood ajar after Tislora’s visit. Frowning, I swung the door shut and waited for the magic to take effect. Then, I said softly, “Show me what you want from me.”
I opened the door and found myself facing… the kitchens. Servants and staff bustled about, and the smell of spiced vegetables reached my nose.
My brow furrowed. What was this? Was the castle mocking me? It wouldn’t have been the first time. The sentient place seemed to have a mischievous sense of humor.
I closed the door, then reopened it. The same scene awaited me. A servant carrying a tray of buttered bread paused to stare, wide-eyed, at me, his face paling.
“Damn it all,” I muttered before striding into the kitchens.
The entire space fell silent at my entrance. Fae went completely still, eyes fixed on me in shock and fear.
I waved a hand. “Go about your business. I’m just… observing.”
After a moment, a few fae started moving again, and the bustling resumed. I lingered against the wall, arms crossed as I surveyed the spacious kitchen. The chef was barking orders at his attendants. To the left, steam rose from a fresh pot of stew. The pounding of a blade against a chopping board rang out in the room.
What is it you want me to see?I wondered.Why am I here?
Most fae, my father included, discounted the enchanted castle as a side effect of the curse. But I knew it to be more than that. This place was the heart of the sorceress’s spell. It held more secrets and answers than any of us.
And it was more stubborn than any creature I had ever met.
A loud crash sounded from the next room over, and I straightened, tensing with apprehension. A flurry of motion followed as servants rushed toward the source of the commotion. Loud voices rang out, followed by one I immediately recognized.
