Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Daciana
I stand among the herb beds, running my fingers over the glossy leaves of one of the plants.
It’s thriving, like everything else in Astra’s garden.
The scents of rosemary and thyme fill the air, mixing with the warm afternoon sun.
I shake my head, straightening up to look over to where Astra sits at the wooden table laden with food.
“I don’t know how you can be this dedicated to plants,” I say, brushing dirt from my hands. “I can’t even keep one alive.”
Astra laughs, but there’s something off about it. Something tight. I watch as Selene’s hand hovers over her, that familiar silver glow of healing magic washing across Astra’s skin as she checks her vitals.
“I’ve always been good with plants. You know that,” Astra says, and there it is again, the strain in her voice that makes my stomach clench.
I hear it clearly now: the thread of tension woven through her words. My body moves before my mind fully processes it, forgetting everything else and walking over to her. “Are you okay?”
Astra’s smile falters. Her hand moves to her swollen belly, cradling it protectively. “I’m fine. Just worried.” Her voice cracks slightly. “I’m scared for my baby. For whatever is happening.”
The fear in her eyes cuts through me. I reach out and grip her shoulder. “It’s going to be fine. Lucian will keep you safe.”
“All this stress is not good for your health,” Selene says sharply, withdrawing her magic. Her expression is stern. “If you keep this up, I’m going to advise bed rest until you deliver.”
Astra’s head whips toward her, eyes flashing. “Don’t you dare.”
Selene pinches her cheek like she’s a misbehaving child. “Then, you should behave and think happy thoughts. Positivity is good for the baby.”
“You try to be positive when the world is close to being destroyed,” Astra mutters, but there’s less heat in her tone now.
Selene shakes her head and turns those sharp, healer eyes on me. “How are you and Kieran doing?”
Heat floods my face immediately. “He’s wonderful.”
“Must be.” Selene’s grin is knowing. “You look happy.” She reaches out her hand. “When was the last time you had a checkup?”
“Don’t start…”
But she’s already running her magic over me, her silver glow cascading across my skin. I roll my eyes and catch Astra chuckling despite her worry. The magic feels warm, searching, probing deeper than I’m comfortable with.
All of a sudden, Selene’s eyes widen. Her hand jerks back, but her expression is pure excitement. “Daciana, you’re expecting!”
My mind goes blank. “Expecting what?”
“A child, doofus,” Astra giggles.
My hands fly to my stomach, pressing against the flat plane there. “How can that be?”
Selene and Astra exchange a look. Astra’s smile turns sly. “If you need to ask how to make a baby, what exactly do you think you’ve been doing with Kieran?”
The heat in my face intensifies. “I—That’s not—” But beneath the embarrassment, a cold sensation is creeping in. A tendril of worry that wraps around my heart and squeezes. “Selene, how far along am I?”
“Maybe four weeks?” She tilts her head. “Hard to say exactly this early, but yes, around a month.”
A month.
One month pregnant.
Three months until the curse kills me.
The thought crashes through me like ice water. I’ll be four months along when I die. If I die. My hand presses harder against my stomach, as if I can protect this tiny life that I didn’t even know existed until a minute ago.
No.
I won’t die. I refuse to die. This baby—Kieran’s baby, our baby—deserves to live. I’ll break this curse, defeat the necromancer, burn down the entire world if I have to, but I will not let this child die with me.
My resolve hardens until it is unbreakable.
“Well then, I guess congratulations are in order.”
The voice comes from behind us. My head snaps around, my entire body tensing automatically. When I see who it is, my hand drops from my stomach, muscles coiling for a fight.
Celeste.
She is walking down the path between the herb beds, blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight. Her steps are measured, graceful. That calculating look of hers is plastered across her face.
Astra’s voice cuts through the air like a blade. “How did you get in here?”
Celeste doesn’t even have the decency to look sheepish. She keeps walking toward us, unhurried.
“Answer me,” Astra snaps, and despite her pregnancy, despite her exhaustion, the queen in her voice is unmistakable. “This is my garden. Nobody is allowed here.”
Celeste’s eyes scan the thriving plants, the careful cultivation. Her lips curl into a sneer. “Well, you’re good for something at least.”
The insult to the Queen is like a slap to my own face. I move before I can even think, stepping in front of Astra protectively. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you, actually.” Celeste stops at the edge of the table, her gaze sliding between Astra and me. “But since both you and the Queen are here, it’s best to handle you together.”
Handle us?
The words send ice through my veins. Celeste lifts her hand, gesturing casually, and her sleeve slides up her arm just slightly.
And I see it.
The scar.
Women from noble families always wear long gloves with special cuts at the fingertips for their claws, which is why I never saw the scar before. But today, Celeste is not wearing her gloves.
Kieran has described it in such excruciating detail that I recognize it instantly: the burn scar that runs along the inside of her forearm, twisted and angry.
The kind of scar that comes from channeling dark, ritual magic through your own flesh.
The mark of someone who has performed necromantic rituals.
Someone who has wielded death magic and paid the price for it.
My entire world narrows to that single image, and for a moment, I forget to breathe.
It’s Celeste? She’s the… But how is this possible? She’s a year younger than me. How can she be?
The danger my friends and I are in hits me like a tidal wave.
“Selene.” My voice comes out low, urgent. “Take Astra and go.”
“What?” Selene’s anger flares. “Why would we do that? She has no right to be here!”
“Trust me.” I don’t take my eyes off Celeste. My voice drops even lower, more urgent. “Please. Trust me.”
I can feel Astra’s gaze boring into me from behind. Then, she says quietly, “Let’s go, Selene.”
“Astra…” Selene protests.
“Now.” Astra’s voice is firm despite the strain in it.
Selene moves to help her up, and that’s when Celeste speaks again.
“Where do you think you’re going, Your Majesty?”
I make sure I’m blocking Astra from Celeste’s view. My heart is pounding, but my voice is steady. “Talk to me, not her. Your problem is with me.”
Celeste laughs, but the sound is wrong. All wrong. “No, Daciana. I need her, too.”
She raises her hands.
I move on pure instinct. My hand shoots out, grabbing one of the silver forks from the table. The metal is cool against my palm. I throw it hard, aiming for center mass.
Celeste ducks, and the fork whistles past her head and embeds itself in a wooden post behind her. She laughs again, straightening up with that infuriating smile still on her face.
“Why so aggressive, Daciana?”
“Where are the guards?” Astra’s voice cuts through the tension, sharp and commanding. I can feel her turn toward the garden entrance, toward where her security should be stationed. “Guards!”
Silence.
Nothing but the rustle of leaves in the breeze and the distant chirp of birds.
“GUARDS!” Astra shouts again, louder this time.
Still nothing.
Celeste’s laugh is like shattered glass. “Oh, they’re not coming, Your Majesty.”
My blood turns to ice.
“They’re all dead,” she says casually, like she’s commenting on the weather. She takes a step forward, and a beaming smile spreads across her face. “They should have let me in when I asked them nicely. Now, they’re dead.”
She laughs again, and the sound makes my skin crawl.
“You’re the necromancer.” The words tear out of me, raw and accusing. “You killed my entire family.”
Celeste lifts one hand, moving her fingers back and forth in a playful “no” gesture. “I spared two of your brothers, actually.”
My heart stops.
“They’re feeding my little pet.” Her smile widens. “You remember Cassandra?”
For a moment, I don’t register the name.
It floats in the air, meaningless. Then, in the faintest part of my memories, barely a whisper, I recall a girl.
Dark hair. Standing beside Elara. The memory is gossamer-thin, more feeling than image, but the name resonates in a place deeper than conscious thought.
Cassandra.
The dreams have been less intense lately, which I hoped was due to the curse’s grip weakening, but they’re still there. Fragments. Pieces. And I recognize that name.
“How would you remember?” Celeste’s voice drips with false sympathy. “You don’t even know how pitiful you are. But let me assure you that your brothers will serve a great cause. They will serve as fodder for the seer witch.”
There is only one Cassandra I know—or knew. For Celeste to bring her up, to imply she’s alive…
I see red.
“What have you done to Cassandra?” The question comes out slowly, each word deliberate. And I know—Elara knows—that this is all that matters.
Celeste looks surprised for a split second, and then, delight floods her features. “Don’t tell me you remember?”
I stare at her, every muscle in my body still coiled tight. “I asked you a question,” I say, my voice dropping to a dangerous level.
“Your little friend has been very useful.” Celeste starts to circle us.
I watch her every movement, like prey tracking a predator.
“You see, witches are the only ones who can achieve true immortality. But you have to be careful how you do it.” She gestures lazily with one hand.
“Shifter blood is very powerful. Feed a witch shifter blood for thirty days, and you can increase her lifespan by sixty years.”
Horror grips me.