Chapter 23 The Key
twenty-three
The Key
Miralyte
I looked at the stack of books on the table, and my stomach lurched. I was sure the information was here somewhere. After all, where else would it be but in the ancient books about fae magic?
I chose a table near the back where the ceiling dipped and the sound of footsteps were muted.
Tomos settled himself in a corner nearby.
Time flew. My fingers were stained black by the time I’d cracked a quarter of the tomes, and the words were a blur before my eyes, endless theories and conjectures, histories of what came to pass and predictions for what was to come next.
The hours slipped through the small cracks of the windows, turning morning into afternoon and then evening.
The candles burned down to waxy pools in their sockets before the shadows finally settled around me.
The silence had gone long and thick, and when it broke, I started from my chair and nearly spilled a pile of scrolls across the floor.
Voices drifted from a row to my left. I did not pay attention at first. People spoke in the library often, but the walls liked to keep the sounds hidden.
These came closer. The shelves in this corner curved inward, and sound carried in strange ways.
I closed my aching eyes to let them rest as the voices found me.
“She altered her form before our very eyes,” a man said. He sounded young, but tired. The words had edges. “A minute before she was breathing at a steady pace. A minute later her back broke the table.”
A woman answered in a low voice that shook. “How much of the Vessel’s blood did she partake?"
“Four vials over three days.”
They were talking about my blood. The vials that had been drawn from the well in my arm. My throat tightened. Something had happened in the healer's wards. I could tell from their voices that it had not been good.
"The dose was too great.” That was a new voice, deeper, older. "That could have roused so swift and so violent a change."
"It wasn't just the dose." The first voice again. He had started pacing, his footsteps slow and measured on the cold floor. "Nay, it was something in her blood."
In her blood. In my blood.
"That cannot be." The woman spoke again, and I heard her move. Her robes made a soft noise that reminded me of wings, though I knew she had none. "The Rot cannot be altered like that. Not by mortal blood."
The man laughed. It was a dark, bitter sound that left ashes in my mouth. "That girl is no ordinary mortal."
Yes, I was. I was the daughter of a mere hunter. My family was dead. I was a nobody.
I didn't want to hear anymore. I grabbed my shawl, pulling it around my shoulders as if it could protect me from the conversation happening only a few feet away. I pushed back the chair and stood, making my way out of the library. My heart was racing, and I felt as if I couldn't breathe.
I had to get out of there. I had to find somewhere safe.
I walked down the hall, my mind racing. What had happened? What had changed in her shape? Had she turned into a monster? Was it even possible to do such a transformation? I shook my head. No, I couldn't think about that right now. I needed to find a way to escape.
Tomos was a few steps behind me, matching my pace easily. "Where are you going?" he asked, catching up to walk beside me.
"To see Zydar."
He stopped abruptly, grabbing my arm. "Why?"
"Because I'm tired of being left in the shadows." I pulled away from him. "I am done with silence and half-truths. I must know.."
His jaw tightened. "He will not yield them."
"I know. But he's the only one who might have them."
"Mira..."
"Tomos, please." I looked up at him. "You don't have to come with me. But I'm going."
For a long moment, he stared at me, his eyes dark and unreadable. Then he sighed. "Fine. But if he gets angry, don't say I didn't warn you."
I nodded, and we started walking again. I didn't know what I would say to Zydar, or how he would react, but I had to try. I had to get answers. I had to find out what was happening to me.
The palace was quiet at this hour, most of the courtiers having retired for the night. The only sounds were our footsteps echoing through the empty halls. We passed by several doors, each one locked, until we reached the end of the corridor.
Tomos stopped outside a large double door. "This is it," he said. "The throne room."
I took a deep breath and knocked.
A moment later, the door opened, and a guard poked his head out. "What is it you seek?" he growled.
"I'm here to see Lord Zydar," I said firmly.
The guard closed the door again, and I could hear him talking to someone else. A few moments later, the door swung open again, and I was ushered inside.
The throne room was vast, bigger than any I'd ever seen before.
Pillars lined the walls, each one carved with intricate scenes from faerie history.
At the far end, a dais rose up, and atop it sat the throne.
It was made of black marble shot with veins of silver and inlaid with rubies that glimmered in the light of the torches lining the walls.
On the throne sat Zydar, looking every inch the powerful ruler he was. He wore a crown of dark iron set with blood red jewels, and his eyes were like two chips of obsidian, cold and hard. When he saw me, his expression hardened even more.
"You should not be here," he said, his voice deep and resonant.
"I need to speak with you," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "It's important."
He waved at the guards. "Leave us."
They bowed and exited the room. I took a few steps forward, stopping at the foot of the dais. "My blood," I began, "is it dangerous? Does it work some ill upon those who receive it?"
Zydar leaned back in his throne, steepling his fingers together. "You’ve been eavesdropping. What have you heard, then?" he asked.
"Whispers. Rumors." I took a deep breath. "My blood brings about a transformation in the patients. A change in their very shape."
His eyes narrowed. "And what do you think of these rumors?"
"I don't know what to think," I admitted. "Never have I heard of such a thing. Yet I know there's truth in those words."
"Why?"
"Because I can feel it." I placed a hand on my chest. "In here. Like something's growing inside me."
He regarded me silently for a long moment. Then he stood and descended the steps of the dais until he stood before me. "You are not wrong," he said softly. " Your blood is changing those who receive it."
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "What kind of change?"
"A terrible one." He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from my face. "A monstrous one."
I shivered at his touch. "What happened yesterday, Zydar?" The question was almost a whisper.
He stepped back, his gaze growing distant. "Last night, a patient... changed. Her bones broke and reformed. Her eyes turned black as ink. Her skin became stone. She killed two fae before I could subdue her."
I gasped. "How is that possible?"
"We don't know," he replied grimly. "But it seems that your blood has awakened something in her. Something ancient and powerful. Something that should have stayed buried."
I swallowed hard. "And the other patients? Are they all afflicted in the same way?"
"No. Only one. But it's enough." He sighed. "Your blood is no longer safe to use. I have commanded that it be destroyed."
"What?! You cannot do this!" I said, taking a step forward. "That blood could save lives!"
He looked down at me, his eyes dark and unreadable. "It could also destroy them." He shook his head.
"But..." I trailed off, not knowing what else to say.
"Your aid is no longer required," he said coldly. "You may withdraw to your quarters."
I stared at him in disbelief. After everything I'd done, after everything I'd given up, he was just going to throw me away? Like I was nothing?
I opened my mouth to protest, but he silenced me with a look. "This matter is not up for debate," he said firmly. "Leave."
I clenched my fists, fury rising in me like a tidal wave. How dare he? Who did he think he was? He may be the Prince of Thunder, but that didn't give him the right to treat me like this. To treat anyone like this.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. It wouldn't do any good to lose my temper. Not here. Not now. I had to stay focused. I had to remember why I was doing this. For Pel, for my sister, for everyone who had ever suffered under the yoke of the Fae. I had to be strong. I had to be brave.
I lifted my chin and met his gaze squarely. "You're wrong," I said. "You need me. And I'm not going anywhere."
The color changed in his eyes, a sudden quicksilver burn as if whatever magic ran through his veins burned a little higher.
And in the wake of it, shadows roiled across his back. I saw them move even though I knew they could not be there, even though the bulk of his wings still arched over his shoulders.
Why did this always make my heart leap and soar? Why was I drawn to this man who was more hawk than human? Why was I drawn to this man who embodied everything I loathed?
Why did I want to lean into the shadows he commanded and beg him to bring me under that sweep of midnight feathers?
Zydar leaned close, his breath hot on my skin. His voice was low and rough, "You know not what you ask."
I leaned in as well, tilting my face up so that my lips were inches from his. "I know full well what I’m asking." I was playing with fire, and I didn't care.
"It would be unwise."
"Why? Because you're the prince and I'm just a lowly mortal?" I raised an eyebrow, challenging him.
"Don't you see? Our bond has already tainted you. Already changed you. It will only get worse."
I pulled back and stared at him. "What are you talking about?"
He turned away, his expression guarded. "You spend your days steeped in studies of magic, but have you grasped its true nature?"
"I have a pretty good idea."
"No, you don't." He let out a low breath. "You have no idea."
I put my hands on my hips and glared at him. "Then speak, tell me, if you don’t trust that I know."
He shook his head and walked over to the fireplace, staring into the flames.
I followed, stopping a few feet away from him. "Is it because you're too stubborn to explain it?"
He turned to look at me, his eyes smoldering with anger. "I do not wish to bring you pain."
That wasn't the answer I was expecting. I stared at him, puzzled. "I don’t understand. Why would you hurt me?"
"You have no idea what kind of power runs in my veins," he growled. "The blood of the gods, coursing through my body. Ancient and terrible. It changes everything it touches, transforms it into something dark and twisted and monstrous."
I was still confused. "What does this have to do with me?"
His face darkened, and he clenched his fists. "Emystra bonded with a human once. You already know it cursed the entire realm. But do you know what happened to her husband?"
I shook my head, trying to recall my books on the subject. They hadn't said much about that particular human.
"His body withered. He became like a corpse. No skin or muscle left on his bones. No hair on his head. Then, his bones began to break. He shattered. Died a terrible death."
A chill crept up my spine. "Is that what you're afraid of happening to me?"
"It might be too late," he whispered.
Then his voice rang with the thunder of the world's end.
"I am immune, am I not? We should try to see if..."
Zydar reached down, fingers ashen, and brushed his fingertips along my arm where the cuts marked my wrist. I shivered, the desire in me running rampant. "I cannot." He shook his head firmly.
I stared up at him. "I knew you were a coward. This confirms it."
He said nothing. Only stared at me with those ancient eyes that saw everything and understood nothing.
"You keep secrets from me, treat me like a prisoner, have your way with me and now you want to give up on me completely?" I shook my head in disgust. "You really are a selfish prick."
Still, he said nothing, and I found my anger rising.
"Not going to say anything? Fine." I whirled around, heading towards the door. "If that's how it's going to be, I'll leave."
As soon as I reached the door, his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. His touch was firm, but gentle.
"You wish to know the truth? The truth about the cure for the Rot?"
I looked back at him, his words catching my attention. "Yes," I said.
A smirk lifted the corner of his mouth and his eyes glittered with amusement.
"The cure is not the blood, nor is it the work of our court. They are both merely conduits."
"What is the cure, then?"
He studied me carefully. "You."
I gave him a puzzled look. "What are you talking about?"
"Your heart. The source of your power." He smiled faintly. "It needs to be taken out and studied."
My jaw dropped as I realized what he was suggesting.
"Your death, Miralyte. That is the cure."