Page 36 of The Curse of Golden Blood
She lifted her chin, folding her arms over her chest. Her eyes told me to go to hell, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from finding her there once I arrived.
Sighing, I didn't bother to argue any further. I'd wasted far too much of the day, and more importantly, it hadn't improved my mood. If anything, it had only made it worse. Distractions, distractions, distractions.
I was nearly out of the room when she called out to me, her voice stopping me dead in my tracks.
"Zydar."
Miralyte Tavora must either possess no brain whatsoever, or simply no fear. I ignored the pleasure of hearing my name on her lips. Focusing a hard stare at her, I lifted a brow, waiting.
"Thank you," she said, the earnest flicker in her eyes unbearably honest. It gutted me, even as a strange emotion slithering in my chest again.
I looked away. "Don't get used to it."
nine
The Garden Below
Miralyte
Weagreedtomeetat the Garden of Stillwind.
Tucked behind the eastern wall of the manor, it was a patch of unnatural calm carved into the chaos of the Thunder Court. Ivy clung to ancient, mossy stone walls, roses and bluebells growing in wild, overflowing bursts from artfully mismatched flowerbeds. At the center was a stone roofed well, beneath which lay a bench of frosted glass.
The wrought iron gate creaked as I pulled it open and then closed it carefully behind me.
It was quieter here, and empty of people.
Normally, that would have put me at ease. Instead, the strange feeling gnawed at the base of my stomach.
I took another step forward. As soon as I did, the hairs rose on the back of my neck, every nerve in my body instantly aware, attuned to the sudden heaviness in the air.
Every protective instinct told me to run, to put distance between myself and whatever was making the warning signals in my head turn so red, but it was already too late.
Before I had a chance to react, Narietta appeared, stepping out from the rose hedge behind me. A knowing smile touched her lips, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
"You startled me, Lady Narietta," I managed, after a moment. My heart was racing, and there was a lightness in my legs that made me think I might collapse.
"Did I?" Narietta tilted her head, her eyes giving me a knowing look. "My apologies, darling. I didn't mean to frighten you."
"It's fine," I said, taking a shaky breath. I managed a small smile. "You've done no harm."
"You've come looking for answers." She stepped closer, taking my hand in hers. It was unnaturally cold, sending a shiver of unease up my spine. "You shall have them."
She turned and sat on the frosted glass bench at the center, resting her hands in her lap. The afternoon sunlight illuminated her face, her skin practically glowing. In the diffused haze, the shadows beneath her eyes were less pronounced, giving her a look of timelessness that was almost unearthly.
"Please, sit," she inclined her head towards the empty spot next to her. I did, the glass slightly uneven beneath my weight. When I spoke, my voice was quiet.
"You knew her. Tell me what happened. Please..."
Narietta sighed, the wistful expression in her eyes fading to a dull, empty gaze. She looked... resigned. Frustrated, almost, at the memory. "What I know won't bring the dead back to life."
I clenched my fists, a bitter taste in my mouth. "Start from the beginning," I pressed, wanting to hear it all and unable to trust myself to ask all the questions. "How did the Rot begin?"
The corners of her lips pursed. "Ylvena wasn't the High Sovereign back then. It was her mother, Emystra."
"Was she the one who started the Rot?"
"Yes, though unknowingly."
