Chapter 10 #3
“I knew she was hiding something significant,” he admits.
“The magical signatures were all wrong, the energy flows were forced rather than organic. I couldn’t prove anything, and I didn’t want to make accusations without concrete evidence.
Challenging an acting mayor, especially one from the founding family, isn’t something you do lightly in a town like this. ”
The grimoire sits between us like a grenade with the pin pulled, innocent-looking but capable of destroying everything I thought I knew about my life. My entire existence, every wound I’ve carried, every moment of feeling broken and insufficient, all of if untrue.
“Open it,” I say quietly, surprised by the steadiness in my own voice.
Ezra’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “Here? Now? These kinds of magical texts can be unpredictable when they’re first accessed by their rightful owner. There might be protective spells, authentication magic, things designed to test—”
“If this book is supposed to belong to me, I need to know what’s inside it,” I interrupt, placing my palm flat against the worn leather cover.
The material feels warm beneath my skin, almost alive, humming with some energy I can’t quite identify.
“Everything I believed about myself has been a lie, Ezra. Every insecurity, every moment of thinking I wasn’t enough, that I was somehow defective—”
I pause, meeting his eyes, the concern there unmistakable.
“I need to know if I can find my way back to who I’m supposed to be through these pages.”
Ezra studies my face, weighing the potential risks against my obvious need for answers. Then he nods once, decisive and supportive. “Together then. If something goes wrong, I’ll be right here.”
He reaches out and carefully lifts the cover. The pages beneath glow with a soft inner light.
The grimoire falls open to a specific page, as if guided by invisible hands, revealing a handwritten inscription in faded but elegant ink. I lean closer, the script shifting at the edges of my vision. My breath catches as the words resolve into clarity.
To my heir, who will be mightier than I ever dared to dream.
Do not let them make you small.
Do not let them quiet you.
Your power is not a curse to be hidden. It is a key waiting for the right lock.
Find what they have sealed away. Open it and burn whatever stands in your way.
Trust in your strength. Trust in your bloodline. Trust in the magic that flows through your veins like liquid starlight.
—Ruby Thorne, Founder and First Anchor
I stare at my great-great-great-great-grandmother’s words, written in her own hand more than two centuries ago, and feel tears burning at the back of my eyes.
She knew. Somehow, across all those years, she knew that someone would try to diminish her heir, to steal what rightfully belonged to the Thorne line. Did she see it, I wonder.
“Keisha.” Ezra’s voice is rough with emotion. “You’re shaking.”
I am, and I can’t seem to stop. My whole body is trembling like a leaf in a windstorm, as if Ruby’s words have unlocked something deep inside me that’s been struggling to break free for thirty-five years.
“I need to sit down,” I admit, my legs suddenly feeling unsteady beneath me.
He’s there immediately, warm and solid and reassuring, steadying me with those gentle hands that somehow manage to ground me even as my world tilts on its axis.
He guides me to the comfortable chair behind the counter, the one Sir usually claims as his throne, and presses a cool glass of water into my trembling fingers.
“Drink,” he orders softly, his voice carrying the kind of authority that comes from caring rather than commanding.
I sip the cool liquid and focus on the simple act of breathing, of pulling myself back from the edge of whatever emotional precipice I was teetering on. The water tastes faintly of mint and something else I can’t identify, something that seems to calm the storm raging inside my chest.
“Okay,” I whisper finally, setting the glass down on the counter with hands that are almost steady. “Okay. So, what do we do now? How do we prove what Lenora did? How do we break whatever she cast on me when I was too young to defend myself?”
Ezra looks at me for a long moment. Then he reaches out with infinite gentleness and brushes a tear from my cheek with his thumb, the simple touch sending warmth spiraling through my entire body.
“We find out what’s really in that grimoire,” he says softly, his voice carrying a promise I can feel in my bones.
“We learn everything Ruby wanted you to know. And then we figure out how to reclaim what was stolen from you.” He pauses, leaning close, his face inches from mine once more, his hand still cupping my cheek. “Together.”
My heart does something complicated and wonderful in my chest, a flutter that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with hope.
“Together,” I echo, the word feeling like a vow.
Outside, the evening sun paints Thorne Curiosities’ windows in shades of gold and amber, casting long shadows across the polished wooden floors.
Inside, the grimoire sits open between us like a doorway to possibilities I never dared imagine, its pages waiting to reveal secrets that might change everything, a legacy of power and knowledge waiting for me to claim it.