Lost Heir (Blood Weaver Trilogy #2)

Chapter 19

19

“ A re you scared?” Marcellus asked.

We stood in the gardens, books splayed out on the ground while I tentatively held a dagger to my wrist. I scoffed and tried to pretend I wasn’t scared shitless. “Me? Scared? No way.”

Marcel crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. “I think you are. We’ve been standing here for thirty minutes, and you still haven’t made a cut.”

He was right. I was nervous. But I couldn’t keep stalling much longer. “Okay. Here I go…” I pressed the dagger to the soft flesh of my wrist and made an incision no bigger than an inch. Blood slowly dribbled down my hand, the sight causing a wave of lightheadedness to sweep through me. I wasn’t afraid of blood. I’d pricked my finger many times to save a life, but this … this felt dangerous.

Marcellus stepped closer; his previous smugness replaced by concern. “Are you sure you want to do this, Leila? This isn't like healing someone. This is... different.”

I looked up at him, stubborn determination setting in. “I need to learn, Marcel. If not for myself, then for everyone I care about. Including you.”

As the blood pooled in my palm, I focused and tried to recall what little was mentioned about blood weaving in the books I found in the library. According to them, blood weaving was all about intent, focus, and control. The incision stung, a sharp reminder of what I was attempting to unleash.

Closing my eyes, I concentrated on the droplets of blood, feeling their warmth and imagining them as more than just part of me, but as extensions of my will. “It's about connecting with the essence of life,” I whispered, echoing the words I had just read.

Marcellus watched silently, though his worry was evident. “Leila, be careful,” he said softly.

I nodded and opened my eyes. The world seemed sharper somehow, the colors around me more vivid. The droplets of blood quivered, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, they began to move, coalescing into a small orb that floated just above my palm.

“By the goddess!” Marcellus whispered, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and awe.

I couldn't help the smile that stretched my cheeks, even as the blood orb dissipated and settled into droplets. “I did it!” Relief and excitement coursed through me. “I actually did it.”

Marcellus rushed to my side with a cloth to wrap my wrist. “You did something, I’ll tell you that much, but it’s far from what you’re capable of, Leila. Please promise me you'll be careful.”

I nodded, feeling the weight of his words. “I promise, Marcel. This is just the beginning. I have so much more to learn. ”

For the next hour and a half, I practiced making anything more or bigger than the orb of blood. I sweated profusely as I attempted something grander, to no avail. It was a miracle I made it that far on my first try. But Marcel was right; I shouldn’t get too excited.

“Let’s call it a day,” Marcel suggested. “If you keep going, you’re going to pass out from blood loss. Maybe you should get some rest.” He changed the cloth to a new one to stop the bleeding.

As we packed up the books, I knew that the journey I was embarking on would be filled with unknown variables and potential dangers. But the payoff would be worth it. I was sure about that much.

As Marcel and I were leaving the gardens, we ran into Ronan, who was returning after completing his errands. His eyes went straight to my wrapped wrist, which had splotches of blood stains. His crimson eyes went wide and he rushed over, taking my arm and inspecting it carefully. “What happened?” he demanded.

I ripped my arm out of his grasp and hid it behind me. “Nothing! Just a little scratch. I wasn’t being careful.” I smiled brightly. Marcel peered over at me as the lie easily rolled off my tongue. A little too easily.

Diverting the attention away from my bandaged wrist, Marcel stepped forward and extended a hand to Ronan. “I don’t think we’ve formally met.”

Ronan watched me, worry evident in his gaze before I nudged him. He turned his attention to Marcel. “Oh, right,” he mumbled as he took my brother’s hand.

“I hope we can let bygones be bygones,” Marcel offered with a raised brow.

Ronan frowned. “It’s not you I have an issue with.”

Marcel nodded. “Yes, but I’m not an innocent bystander, either. I admit I’ve hurt Lyanna in more ways than I’d care to admit.”

“That’s all in the past now,” I said as I attempted to cut through the tension.

Ronan nodded and released Marcel's hand. “For Leila's sake, we can move past it. But I'm still concerned about this 'scratch' of yours.” His gaze shifted back to me, filled with an unspoken question.

I waved the hand not wrapped in the cloth dismissively. “Honestly, it's nothing. Just got a bit too enthusiastic with some gardening.”

Marcel gave me a look that said he wasn't buying the gardening excuse any more than Ronan was, but he played along. “Yeah, she decided to take on a rose bush single-handedly. You know how stubborn she can be.”

Ronan's expression softened and a small smile played on his lips. “Yes, I'm well aware. Do you want to see the palace healer to treat the wound? I could go with you,” he offered.

“No, I should be fine,” I assured him, feeling a mix of gratitude and guilt for the lie. Ronan had always been there for me and hiding the truth about blood weaving felt wrong. But I knew if I managed to master it, it would be worth it.

“Well then, I guess I should go,” Marcellus muttered as he moved to the path that led out of the garden. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Lyanna.”

I waved and we watched him leave and amble back to his Western palace. Once he was gone, Ronan turned his gaze to me.

He raised a brow. “Now tell me: were you really gardening?”

I nodded and smiled brightly. “Of course!”

He sighed. “If you’re going to lie to me, at least make it believable. You have the cleanest hands for someone who has been working with soil.”

My eyes widened as I looked down at my slightly red, but otherwise clean hands. Right … maybe I should have put a bit more effort into the lie. With a grin, I looped my arm in his. “Aww, come on, Ronan. I promise it was nothing bad.”

He peered over at me as if he didn’t believe a single word I said, but instead of arguing, he simply nodded. I wasn’t sure if that was preferable to him hounding me about it.

“Did you send word to your father?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Yes. But I plan to spend every waking minute with you until I leave.” He leaned down and brought his lips to within a whisper of mine. “Think you can handle that?” He raised a brow in challenge.

I scoffed and gave him a devilish grin. “Piece of cake.”

“Good. I’ve already told your court ladies that I’ll be having lunch with you every day until I leave.”

Grinning, I stood on my tippy toes and gave him a quick kiss. “Perfect.”

Ronan wrapped his arms around me, bringing my body flush against his. “I don’t know how I’ll manage to be away from you while I’m in the Grasslands,” he muttered as he brought his lips closer to mine.

I wrapped my arms around his neck to bring him closer. “I guess that means you’ll have to hurry back.” In the next instant, Ronan slammed his lips onto mine with an all-consuming kiss that forced all other thoughts to flee.

Our hearts raced as the world around us faded into a blur of colors and sensations. Ronan's touch sent shivers down my spine, igniting a fire that threatened to consume every inch of my being. The intensity of our kiss deepened, our breaths mingling in a passionate dance.

With each moment that passed, I realized I was falling deeper and deeper for him. His presence was intoxicating, and his touch set my soul ablaze with desire. The taste of his lips lingered on mine, imprinting itself on my very essence.

As we finally pulled away, our eyes locked in a silent promise of what was to come. The connection between us crackled with energy, drawing us together like magnets unable to resist their pull. In that moment, I knew that no matter how much physical distance separated us, our love would endure.

Ronan smiled, and the tenderness in his crimson eyes made my heart swell. “I will return to you, I promise,” he whispered.

“You better, or I’ll go to the Grasslands looking for you,” I joked.

His expression turned serious in a blink. “Whatever you do, do not come to the Grasslands. My father is full of all kinds of tricks. If he captures you, he’s not above keeping you there against your will,” Ronan admitted.

I frowned. “You really think he’d do something that foolish, knowing Valoria would call for war to get me back?”

“If he’s able to resurrect the demon fox, the Crimson Clan would be unstoppable. A war with a neighboring kingdom would mean nothing in the grand scheme of things,” Ronan said. “Promise me you’ll wait here for me.”

“I promise,” I said. “Just return quickly.”

“I will.”