Page 55 of Necromance
I sat back in the bed, my heart hammering. Sweat clung to my skin. My grandmother had cursed him. I’d suspected it, feared it, but seeing it with my own eyes… It had been real. And yet, she hadn’t looked triumphant. She had looked terrified.
Why? Why curse him if she didn’t want to? And who, or what, had been in the shadows with her?
My gaze drifted toward the space Lucien had once stood while I begged him to stay. Guilt pulled at me. Not just for what I’d done under the influence of the potion, but for what I hadn’t told him. What I hadn’t dared to believe until now…
I stood slowly, shaking off the last remnants of my daze, and crossed the room to the basin. The cool water would help clear my head—if not from the lingering effects of the hallucinogen, then at least from the mortifying memory of the night before.
With quick, efficient movements, I slipped off my nightgown, letting the fabric fall from my shoulders. The chill of the room pricked my skin, but I ignored it, stepping out of it and setting them aside.
I dipped my hands into the basin, cupping the water before splashing it over my face, my neck, the exposed planes of my arms. The coolness sent a shiver through me, but I relished it, scrubbing away the remnants of sleep, sweat, and everything else I wished I could erase.
Grabbing a cloth and soap, I dragged it over my skin, the scent of roses and chamomile filling the air. The bruises from last night’s ordeal were beginning to bloom along my arms, faint aches pulsing beneath my fingertips as I washed. Another reminder of how close I had come to—No. Don’t think about that now.
Once I was satisfied, I reached for a fresh chemise and thick black satin dress, lacing myself back into something presentable. The fabric felt stiff against my damp skin, but I hardly cared. I needed to feel like myself again.
Finally, I turned to the vanity, my reflection meeting me with disheveled hair and tired eyes. I twisted the strands back, securing them as best I could, before meeting my own gaze in the mirror. My skin was still too pale, my lips slightly swollen, as if…
I swallowed hard.
Last night’s kiss flashed through my mind, the warmth of his mouth against mine, the way he had held me, steady and sure.
I gripped the edge of the vanity, inhaling sharply.
Another memory hit me, washing over my mind before I could contain it.
Serena had returned to the castle.
I saw her standing in the grand foyer, her face a mask of quiet determination, her hands clutching a carefully wrapped parcel. The air between them was strained, thick with something unspoken. Lucien stood opposite her, wariness flickering in his eyes.
“What is this?” he had asked, his voice cautious.
“A parting gift,”she had said simply, offering it to him.
Lucien had hesitated, but eventually, he took it. He unraveled the paper slowly, the firelight catching on the edges of the frame beneath. Then, finally, he pulled it free.
A portrait. His own face stared back at him from the canvas, meticulously rendered, almost too lifelike. I could see the moment he realized something was wrong—the way his fingers twitched against the frame, his breath caught in his throat.
Then, all at once, his body stiffened. His eyes widened in shock. The painting fell from his grasp, crashing to the floor.
And Lucien collapsed with it.
I watched in frozen horror as his body crumpled, his limbs gone slack, his breath stilled. A perfect, unnatural stillness settled over him.
And then, movement. From the corner of the room, a figure stepped forward.
His figure.
Lucien’s phantom self had appeared, staring down at his own fallen body with wide, disbelieving eyes. He reached for it, his hands passing through the physical form that no longer belonged to him.
“What have you done?” he had whispered, his voice carrying through the silent room.
But Serena had only stood there, her expression too pleased, watching as the curse took hold.
A dull ache pulsed in my skull as I sifted through the hazy remnants of my visions, trying to grasp something, anything, that might tell me how to break the curse. Most of what I’d seen had been useless. Fleeting glimpses of Lucien’s past, moments of his life before Serena had trapped him. But I knew the answer had to be buried somewhere within the chaos of my mind.
I exhaled slowly, pressing my fingertips against my temples, forcing myself to push deeper.
Then, something else surfaced.
