Chapter 25 #2
“So you have the God Knife.” I keep my voice steady as I sort through my chaotic thoughts. “And the Prince of the East knows it exists.”
She nods, brows pinched.
“And he sent his crow here to retrieve it. Because he can see us?”
Again, she nods.
I cover my mouth with my hand and drag my fingertips through my beard.
“Perhaps it does not matter,” she signs, “or perhaps the knife is not as powerful as I have believed.”
I stare at her, dumbfounded, though I realize that her lack of understanding is not her fault.
“I cut the prince with this knife,” she adds. “After he stabbed you.” She draws a line on her face, from temple to chin. “And he is still alive.”
Of course he is, though I can’t understand why he didn’t take it from her when he had the chance.
Before I can inquire further, she says, “He said that he sensed it all over me, that it kept drawing him back to me. He wants the knife back where it belongs.”
I don’t know what that means. The last place the prince should want the knife is back where it belongs. It is of no use to him that way.
“He also said that this is goodbye, for now,” she signs. “That we are trapped until he is ready for me. He called me Keeper. He called me that before, too, on the green. What does it mean?”
Keeper. I rummage around in the recesses of my mind for anything that could give that word meaning in this instance.
There were Keepers in the Summerlands—in the Hall of Holies—magi who protected the ancient scrolls and wisdom housed there.
Raina is no mage, no Summerlander. Neither were her parents.
“I truly don’t know what it means. Maybe tell me how your father came to have the knife. In detail.”
She tries, but her father withheld so much, and much of what he knew of the knife was polluted by centuries of twisted lore. However, one thing stands out.
Yes, daughter. I keep it. Because I must.
I study the blade once more, clearing away my shock so I can focus.
At first glance, there’s nothing. Everyday eyes would see no magickal working at all—the spell on the blade was designed that way, I imagine.
It requires single-minded concentration, but I can see the magick emanating from the weapon when I look hard enough.
The enchantment is weak and old in normal years for most any kind of incantation, but I can read it all the same.
There are so many binding spells in the world of magick, and this is yet another.
Keeper. Now it’s beginning to make sense.
Her father had no choice when it came to the God Knife.
Someone cursed him with the task of keeping care of the blade, a curse that—though weak—has latched onto Raina.
The prince didn’t take it because he couldn’t.
Even now, when I peer into the ether around the knife, faint tendrils of magick cling to Raina’s lovely hand and wrist like claws.
Which is why the prince sent the crow. Raina was distracted. She let her guard down. Put the knife aside.
And he saw.
I glance around the camp, another very critical piece of the puzzle sliding into place.
Hel.
I don’t know how the girl came to have the knife after what happened between Raina and me on the green, but the Prince of the East must’ve learned that she’d procured it and tried to use an unwieldy shadow wraith to bring him the blade.
If he’s after what I think he’s after, he will not stop until he has it.
Though the statement about him wanting it back where it belongs still confuses me.
Raina takes a firm step closer. “Why is he doing this? Please tell me what you know. I see it.”
This is the third time she’s asked, and this time, I won’t hold back—as soon as it’s safer to do so.
“I will tell you everything,” I sign, in case something or someone is listening.
“But first, we must get out of the open. This camp was a reprieve gifted by your sister. She knew we would need our strength for what lies ahead. You thwarted the prince’s efforts.
He might make certain we are trapped here, but he will also send something worse than a crow after the knife.
We cannot sit and pray that he will not retaliate for your interference. ”
Understanding dawns on her face, and I can see in her darting eyes that she grasps the severity of the moment, even without further details.
This time, it’s me who takes a firm step closer. “I need you to let me have the knife, Raina.”
I don’t know if this is wise. The blade might be safer with Raina than with me, given the curse. But I need her safe, and I just want to touch it, to see if our old connection is truly lost.
Raina steps back, watching me with those sharp, dark blue eyes.
Again, I lift my hands. “We cannot let the prince take this blade. It is the key to much devastation. And believe me when I tell you that, of the two of us, my darkness is the darkness the Prince of the East will not want to face.” When she still hesitates, I drop to one knee, surrendering before her.
“You were ready to trust me with your body, Raina. Please trust me with this.”
The tension in her jaw feathers as she stares down at me, but her clenched cheek finally relaxes. Though it takes several moments, she extends the knife between us.
I’m trembling like a newborn foal when I wrap my hand around the warm hilt.
My blood thrums with awareness, the heat from the stone sending a blaze straight to my heart and across my skin. That hasn’t happened in so long that the rush of it is almost as intense as the pleasure I would’ve known had Raina ravished me minutes before.
I close my eyes and inhale a deep, ragged breath, gasping around the bond that hums and re-forms in my blood.
“Hello, Drallag,” the blade whispers.