Page 159 of A Crown of Tears and Treason
If Leesa dug her teeth into her lower lip any harder, she might swallow it whole. The wrinkles on Goose’s forehead were getting deeper and more concerning. His mouth was constricting by the second, eyes bulging as he kept on staring.
“Think, think, think,” I whispered, my pacing turning hectic. “Protectorate would protect a text with a spell–”
“Blood Brotherhood does that, too, but we also use sacred herbs or any natural thing with sap. To make it flow and stick,” Leesa said. “And the Morgana Clan uses hair and skin for theirs.”
That sounded horrifying, but logical.
“Each Clan is messed up in its own ways.” There was an answer, just as the edge of my thoughts. I could feel it. “Each has its signature. Protectorate Protects. Blood Brotherhood relies on living things. What do we know about the Quoriliths?”
Leesa shivered. “Vicious. Deadly. Terrifying.”
On the surface. The superficial things people saw at a glance, not the howl of the sea breeze between the branches or the sandy scent it drafted into the forest.
“They were ruthless.” I slowed my steps. “They destroyed their own lands to get revenge on their enemies and traitors. With blood and–”
Goose gasped, snapping out the trance.
“Your Grace, give me your switchblade,” he said, voice filled with the tremble of possibility. “Please.”
He didn’t need to ask twice. I flicked my only weapon out of the bracelet and just handed it to him. Trust went both ways.
Goose swallowed thickly under our waiting gazes. He opened the blade and wrapped his left palm around it. With a hiss between his teeth, Goose swished the weapon, cutting his hand.
Drops of blood began to trickle. With heavy breaths, Goose raised his palm over the closest scroll. The one that reeked the most.
One.
Two.
Three drops of his blood fell onto the dry parchment. As fast as they fell, they vanished. Sucked right into the ravenous parchment, as if it had been thirsting for eons.
“A sacrifice for Quorilith knowledge,” Goose uttered, completely still.
A breeze blew from the window, straight into the scroll.
Nobody breathed as the second ticked by.
It had to work. It needed–
With a creak, the scroll began to unfurl.
“It worked!” Leesa cried out. She jumped and wrapped her arms around Goose’s neck. Goose blinked away his stupor, shaky hands slowly curling over her back.
“Well done, Goose,” I said as they unraveled, her with a huge smile, and him much redder. “I knew you had it in you.”
“Right?” Leesa beamed. “He’s super smart.”
She took off the ribbon in her hair, blonde curls falling around her shoulders, and coiled it around his palm, patching his wound. And Goose, gods help him, sat there, not seeming to know what to do with himself.
“Thanks,” he mumbled at last with a small smile. Then he went back into that super serious, focused state.
With steady hands, he gently tugged on one end of the scroll, Leesa grasping the other. My fingers twitched to touch it, but I waited.
And waited as the parchment’s creaks and crinkles rang out in the library, matching my rapid breathing. This was it. I hadn’t risked my life for nothing. I’d get what I’d been so desperate for all these months.
Answers.
Inch by inch, the two of them unwound the worn, yellowed paper, with blue splotches at its torn edges.
