Page 76 of Claim the Twilight
“No,” she says curtly.
I wait for her to elaborate, but she doesn’t. Instead, she tells us about the Isle and explains that it consists of two main zones—the region within the Belt and the area outside. The city inside the Belt houses powerful covens and influential human bloodlines, and the lands outside house everyone else.
When I question her on what that means, she merely shrugs and says that cities don’t run on air. Mines must be worked and crops tended to, all jobs for the people living outside the Belt.
I’m not sure I like her imperious tone, but then I’m not entirely sure I’m reading her correctly. I don’t know her well enough to pass judgment.
“It isn’t always safe for us outside the Belt,” she says. “There are those that would do us harm.”
“The dark witches?”
“Among other things. As much as we give to the outsiders, it is never enough.”
“Wait, aren’t they giving to you with the crops and the mining?”
She frowns. “And who do you think gives them the land to grow the crops, or the permission to mine?”
We pass through another gilded arch into a cream and gold sitting room where two women sit embroidering. They look up briefly, brows creasing in inquisitive frowns.
Aster nods their way, and they drop their gazes and get back to work. Aster leads us through a doorway and down a narrow corridor decked in floral wallpaper that makes my eyes hurt.
“How long have you carried the infection?” she asks abruptly.
“You sense it?”
“The wards did, which is why we took a little time to clear you. So how long?”
There’s little point in lying. “Months.”
“Don’t worry; once you have your power back, that infection will be burned from you.”
“Yes, I know. Witches can’t be turned into vampires.”
She glances over her shoulder with an arched eyebrow. “For someone who’s forgotten that she was a witch at all, you know a lot about how witches’ anatomy works.”
I’m not about to throw Jacqueline to the wolves. “My friend Orina visited recently. She learned some stuff.”
“Ah, yes, I heard about that…incident…” She takes a left down an equally hideous wallpapered corridor. “Did your friend tell you about the surge?”
“Yes.”
Harald drifts a little too close at my back, and a shiver skates up my spine. I pick up my pace.
“Good,” Aster says. “Then you realize you may experience it once you’re reunited with your power.”
“May? I thought all witches had the surge.”
Once again, she glances back, a thin smile curling her lips. “The Lantana bloodline are what we call memory keepers. We are reborn into the same bloodline, and at puberty, we are blessed with the memories of our past lives, along with the power we have accumulated in every incarnation. The surge doesn’t always occur for us, but if it does, then it kills us. There is no mastering it. Only rebirth and another chance to quell the darkness.”
“So you’re saying I could die?”
“Not immediately, but the twelve hours after you’re restored will be critical.”
My gaze whips to Harald, who looks back at me with an expression that gives nothing away. “You knew about this. You wanted me to get your power back and then when I die, you could just bail on our deal.”
“You arenotgoing to die.”
We descend stone steps, and the air chills. “You don’t know that.”
