Chapter 9
Lucina
“What do you mean you want to trick a blood ward?” Selene blurts, loud enough that Gemma ceases her chewing, and Kimber picks her head up from whatever book she’s reading.
I get that this isn’t the most appropriate topic for breakfast, but I could do without the disbelief on Selene’s face and the disgust on Gemma’s and Kimber’s.
I grip my warm mug tighter and explain, “Your coven is highly trained in wards; I was just curious if you thought it would be possible. There has to be a threshold.”
Easton talked with Sedona the other day, but she didn’t tell us anything we don’t already know, and until Pax, Hunter, and Phoenix get back from Streatham, we’re in a period of…waiting.
Sort of.
It all depends on my scary lakelet friend’s knowledge of blood wards.
Selene’s dark brows furrow, two beaded braids slipping over her shoulder as she cocks her head and watches me for a moment. “A threshold…” she ponders, mostly to herself, I think. Then she straightens and slides her tray out of the way. “I don’t know, let’s see.”
As casually as she moved her food aside, she pulls a small knife out of her pocket.
Kimber shrieks, fumbling with her book.
“For gods’ sake,” Gemma curses around a mouthful of food, pointing a stern finger at the Lakelet, who flips the silver blade out of its compartment with a smile. “Selene, don’t you dare spin a blood ward at this table.”
“So, with a blood ward,” Selene starts, slicing through the center of her palm like it’s nothing.
I ignore the death stare Gemma is burning into the side of my face and set my mug down, completely invested in whatever she’s about to show me.
“You are essentially spinning a regular ward and weaving your essence into it. Something unique to you or your magic.” She pinches her fingers, letting crimson rivulets drip onto the table.
Kimber makes another bark of protest, but Selene pays no attention to it as Lakelet magic ripples across the table and a foggy smoke lifts from her open palm.
I watch with rapt attention as she arches her hand off the table, and a thin, glossy sheen comes to life in the air between us. It moves like a spiderweb caught in the wind. Like the Barrier.
When Selene talks, her voice is slightly muffled from the other side. “Try to pass it,” she taunts.
Raising a brow, I glance at Kimber and Gemma, who have migrated to the far end of the table. Gemma’s mumbling something under her breath—likely a complaint about how embarrassed she is to be sitting here—and Kimber nods her agreement, eyes wide on us.
I meet Selene’s challenging glare and tug up the sleeves of my cardigan, reaching up to press my hand into the ward—
“Shit!” The second my fingers brush against the ward, a merciless burn shoots up my arm, knocking my shoulder back. “What the hell, Selene?!”
“Oh?” She rears back. “So you came to breakfast all hyped and ready to ask me about blood wards, without knowing what happens when you try to cross one?” Selene shakes her head, silver piercings clinking in her ears.
“Blood wards don’t take kindly to intruders, Cin.
If it doesn’t recognize your blood, it’ll kick you back.
A more powerful one might even kill you. ”
She demonstrates by thrusting her hand through the ward, but without the pain I’d just experienced. She wiggles her fingers on the other side, then pulls her hand back out.
“Noted.” I rub at my sore and throbbing fingers. “So…how much of your blood do you think I would need? To pass, I mean.”
Something serious falls over her expression, and I panic. Afraid that I’ve given too much away.
As she stares, I lean into the facade of innocent curiosity, tilting my head and embodying the face of pure intrigue. It isn’t hard. I am curious.
“I don’t know.” Finally, Selene quirks a brow, flashing a conspirator’s smile. “Let’s see.”
My shoulders sink in relief as she reaches for her water, chugging what’s left before slamming the glass back down to the table.
Brows furrowed, I watch with morbid fascination as she lets three drops of her blood spill over the glass lip. Deciding it’s enough, she casually passes it through her ward to my side of the table.
Then she slips the knife through after it. “Your turn.”
Of course.
“Lucina,” Gemma warns from the other end of the table.
Ignoring her, I take the knife, hissing through my teeth as it breaks the skin on my palm. I do exactly as she did, letting three drops of my blood fall into the cup with hers.
Selene watches intently as I push it towards the ward, careful not to graze my own fingers on the magic.
The glass makes it all the way through.
With my blood.
“Holy shit,” Selene curses, surveying the cup. “I think your blood canceled out mine.”
I can hardly contain my excitement. “So the threshold is…” My hands fist on the table, blood still leaking out from the shallow wound in my palm. “...fifty percent?”
Selene assesses the ward as if she’s looking for other ways to explain it. Then she nods, confirming on an exhale, “Yeah. Fifty percent, I guess.”
With the wave of her hand, the ward dissipates. My heart is beating so fast I hardly realize how intently she’s looking back at me until she speaks, the seriousness in her tone pulling me back to the table. “Why did you want to know?”
I blink back at her. “Oh…um.” My hands shake as I reach for my mug. “I was just—”
“Chaos,” a deep voice rumbles behind me, and my eyes go wide as Callan leans down, his chin hovering just above my head. His hands press against the table on either side of me.
I peer up at him as innocently as I’m able.
“Why are you bleeding?”
Selene snorts, and I scowl back at her.
“We weren’t…” His gaze narrows as I search for an explanation. “We were just—”
“Being freaks,” Gemma supplies, sliding back down the bench and grabbing my hand to heal the cut. “Ruining my breakfast,” she mumbles under her breath.
I roll my eyes back at Selene. “She handed me the knife.”
“You took it, freak,” she pokes back.
Gemma snatches her hand next.
“Yeah? Well, if I’m a freak, then you’re…” I look her up and down, searching for a fitting word. “Morose.”
Selene smiles. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Enough, both of you,” Gemma snaps, and Callan laughs under his breath. “You’re both fucking weird.”
Selene’s grin only widens.
Callan presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Come on, Chaos. Time for training.”
“I want to go to Streatham,” I blurt out as soon as we exit the Tavern, sliding my arm through Callan’s as we step out into the brisk morning sun. It’s taking all I have to hold myself together.
The threshold is fifty percent…which means I was right.
I can cross the blood ward.
Admitting that to him would mean admitting half of me is made of the very thing Callan has dedicated his life to getting rid of.
I don’t know when or if he’ll ever be ready to hear that, but I know one thing for certain: I need to get out of Pirn, and I need to cross that ward.
Time is running out for the Sol trapped in Streatham, and right now, I’m the only hope they have.
“You will, Cin.” Callan smiles, amused by my eagerness. “After you’re initiated.”
I huff, tearing my gaze away as we pass the Banyan, its wide trunk eerily still.
Pax, Hunter, and Phoenix have only been gone a few days, but it feels like longer. Now that I know there’s a good chance I’m capable of crossing the ward, I wish I’d fought Callan a little harder about letting me go with them. Do I have a plan? No. But I hate the waiting.
Callan must notice the longing look I give the massive tree because he sighs, pulling me closer to his side. “We’re going to get you out there, Chaos, I promise. Why the rush?”
I squint up at the sky to avoid his stare, a wave of guilt punching me square in the gut. “I’m just a little claustrophobic,” I decide with a shrug. “That’s all.”
His brows pull together. “Lucina, you aren’t trapped here.”
“Aren’t I?”
Callan goes rigid at my response. He stares back at me for a moment, deep in thought, but I force on a smile and slide my hand further through the crook of his arm.
“It’s not so bad,” I say on a heavy exhale, and it’s the truth. Perhaps the only one I can offer him right now.
There will be a time, I’m sure of it, where I’ll wish we could go back to this: The sun shining down on bright green grass and the delicious smell of breakfast wafting through camp, carried on the soft breeze.
This way of life is so simple yet entirely extraordinary.
It’s a privilege to just exist in Pirn. With Callan, my friends, my future coven…
I don’t want to be the storm that uproots this place.
I want to be the sacrifice that saves it.