Chapter 31
On Friday afternoon, Neha Iyer approached me outside the Tusk and handed me a note.
I looked up at her in surprise.
“I’m supposed to give you this,” she said, smiling shyly.
“Is it from Gwen?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No, but it’s from a friend.”
Baffled, I accepted the note and tore open the seal, watching Neha saunter off, her dark hair billowing in the breeze.
Don’t return to your dormitory under any circumstances tonight. Meet me at the loft. In case you’ve forgotten where it is, I’ve enclosed the address below.
—C
I read over the message once more, perplexed. Why wasn’t I allowed to visit my dormitory, and what the hell was going on?
When the sun hung low on the horizon, I trudged along the mile-long path to Casimir’s place, tugging my coat tightly around me as the frigid night descended. He swung open the door when I arrived, but remained standing over the threshold, blocking my entry.
“Going to let me in, Wrayburn?” I asked wryly, trying to push past his looming frame.
He shook his head.
“Come on,” I pleaded, all pretense of joking aside. “It’s freezing out here.”
“In a moment,” he replied, his lips twitching at my dramatics. “First, you should know that I’ve been smoking like a fiend all day. It’s just that I like to smoke when I’m stressed and—”
“Wrayburn,” I cut in. “I’m cold, and it’s late. I couldn’t care less about your stupid addiction right now. All I care about is not freezing to death on your doorstep. Now, move.”
“Have it your way.” He shrugged and finally stepped aside.
As it turned out, he hadn’t been exaggerating. A thick haze of smoke greeted me upon entry, but I was too invested in warming my freezing limbs next to the fire to take much notice.
Ever the gentleman, Casimir flung open the windows to allow in fresh air to dilute the smoke.
I accepted the glass of whiskey he offered me a moment later, grimacing as I forced down the burning liquid.
Casimir swirled his glass pensively before asking, with infuriating nonchalance, “Did you receive my gift?”
“Gifts, plural, you mean,” I corrected him.
The Darkseer sank into a chair across from the sofa, a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “I thought it went well with the dress.” He shrugged.
I shot him a withering glare and opened my mouth to argue before he cut in, “I only agreed not to purchase a dress, and I kept my word.”
My nostrils flared in earnest as I continued to glower at him from my perch on the sofa. “You just can’t respect other people’s boundaries, can you? I guess that’s just a side effect of you being an interfering prick.”
Unfazed, he stood to refill his glass before sinking into the seat beside me. “Does this show of temper mean you’re still refusing to wear the necklace?”
I stiffened at his sudden proximity. “No, not exactly.”
His expression was set squarely between amusement and irritation as he watched me over the rim of his glass.
“Dare I hope that you might overlook the necklace’s admittedly thorny history and wear it to the ball tomorrow?”
I gave a noncommittal shrug. “Maybe my self-preservation is finally kicking in.”
“Thank the gods for that.”
I retaliated by tossing a well-aimed pillow at his head.
“You are utterly absurd,” he chided, dodging the attack smoothly.
“I am not!”
He merely smirked at my petulance and, throwing an arm over the back of the sofa, sighed with the air of a man dealing with a particularly pugnacious child.
I felt the heat of his arm as it grazed my shoulder. His probing amber eyes, rendered darker in the low light, found mine and held them steadily.
It was a look that always made me feel like he already knew all of my secrets, and tonight was no exception.
I returned his gaze, knowing that he trusted me too much to glamour his way into my mind, and imagining how he would react to my planned betrayal.
Unease creeped in at the edges of my thoughts, threatening to dismantle my composure, but Casimir was speaking again.
“You’re impossibly stubborn, I don’t know why I bother.” A lazy smile played across his lips, and I found it difficult to look away. He leaned in closer. “You ask me to go to a ball with you, and then you deny ever wanting to be near me in the first place.”
He was even nearer now. I could count the specks of silver in the rich brown of his irises. His free hand traced along the edge of my collarbone.
My breathing became uneven.
“I give you the Book of Erebos…”
My stomach gave a nervous flip.
“A very sought-after possession, by the way… I train you in knife combat and help you practice resisting glamours, and you accuse me of making your life difficult.” His voice dipped lower until it was almost a growl.
“You kiss me, and the next minute you’re making irreversible bloodbargains behind my back.
So my question tonight is this: what is it that you want, Farrow? ”
On the surface, his expression was inquisitive, but his gaze was full of heat as it bored into me, igniting a fire in my blood.
I trembled against his hand, unable to move or form words. And then he drew away suddenly, releasing me. My skin felt cold at the loss.
It took me several moments to recover before I could speak again. At last I asked, “Why did you ask me not to return to my dormitory tonight?”
At once, his demeanor changed. “Devereaux and his cronies are looking for the Book of Erebos. They’re probably raiding your dormitory as we speak.”
“They’re—what, right now?” I gaped at him. The thought of Devereaux Graves slithering into my dormitory, ransacking mine and Gwen’s things in his fruitless hunt for the Book was downright bone-chilling. “We have to warn Gwen!”
“No need. I suggested to Neha that Gwen might be amenable to a study session, should she feel so inclined to invite her over. And stay the night.”
“Playing matchmaker now, are you?” I rolled my eyes, though in truth, I was relieved to hear that Gwen was nowhere near Ash Hall tonight. “Did you glamour her as well?”
“Didn’t need to,” he replied, smiling impishly.
I frowned. “But you would have, if you’d needed to.”
Casimir’s eyes narrowed infinitesimally, but he nodded. “Yes, I would have. Would you rather I’d left your best friend to fall victim to Devereaux’s caprices?”
“Obviously not.”
“We are in agreement then,” he concluded, a bit too smugly for my liking.
I quirked an inquisitive brow at him. “So? Are you going to tell me why I’m here?” My tattoo burned as if it knew the answer.
“Ah, yes. Down to business.” Casimir clasped his hands together.
“I think you’ll recall that a few weeks ago we discussed a certain unfortunate event that must take place Saturday night prior to the blood ritual, and unfortunately, that time has come.
” The smirk he shot me was dripping with malevolence.
“I think our little sprite has outlived its use.”
My blood ran cold. This was it. “Yes, of course I remember,” I nodded.
“I took the liberty of retrieving the Book from your dorm.” Casimir reached over to procure the heavy tome from a pile of textbooks on a nearby table.
My heart thrummed against my ribs as my gaze landed on the aged leather cover. “Casimir,” I began, “before we destroy it, I think we should speak with it one last time.” I swallowed, steeling myself. “But this time, I think you should take the lead.”
Casimir snorted softly at my suggestion. “That would be a pointless endeavor.”
“The fact of the matter is, the Book of Erebos has been useful. The sprite remains our best and only chance of finding the Heir.”
He made an impatient noise. “If we destroy the Book, the Order cannot complete the ritual, period. Forget about the Heir.”
“No way! We’ve come too far to give up now. I’m not going to let Devereaux torture some innocent person—”
Casimir interrupted, “What makes you think the Book will divulge its secrets to me? It’s never been willing to in the past.”
I bit back a growl of frustration and forced myself to explain.
“The Vrag Kigna—the sprite—is clearly… interested in you. Perhaps it was simply too shy to speak with you before. Considering it demanded a lock of your hair…” I waggled my eyebrows suggestively, which elicited a snort from Casimir.
“It’s at least worth a try,” I insisted.
He considered me for a long moment, and then nodded slowly. “I suppose there’s no harm in trying...”
“I think we should do it now.”
His brows shot up in surprise. “Alright,” he agreed. “But afterwards, we kill it.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, suddenly anxious. Now that we were actually going to attempt my idea, I began to question whether the Book would cooperate. And if Casimir didn’t behave exactly as I predicted tonight, my entire plan would go up in flames.
Casimir flicked the leather bindings open with one hand. Immediately, the pages shivered in response.
“Hello, old friend,” he murmured, his voice as smooth as velvet. He shot me a meaningful glance, which I realized was my cue to speak.
“Um, hello, sprite. We were wondering if you’d like some company?
And maybe the three of us can have… a bit of a chat…
If you’re up for it,” I added hastily. Despite the fact that the sprite and I were now coconspirators, I was riddled with anxiety.
What if the stupid sprite decided to rebel?
“Please,” I coaxed, “we’re both so anxious to speak to you… ”
I reached out to grasp Casimir’s hand, and he shot me a quizzical look. “Trust me,” I said, then placed his hand on the Book. I held my breath, waiting on tenterhooks. After what felt like ages had passed, the Book trembled again as a horribly familiar rasp filled the room.
“Ah,” it purred. “No living being has touched me so intimately in many centuries, Darkseer.”
Casimir grimaced and withdrew his hand as though burned.
I bit back a snort of laughter at the sprite’s unrequited flirtations.
The Book cackled devilishly. “For what purpose does the Darkseer disturb me from my slumbers? Does he desire the company of this ancient little sprite?”
I let out a sharp exhale, gratified and heady from my success. “Can you tell us more about the Keeper’s Heir?” I asked. “Oh, and please forgive us for disturbing you. We are lost without your wisdom, oh wise and ancient one,” I added, hoping the sprite possessed minimal abilities to detect sarcasm.
A moment passed, and then it replied, “I warned you once before, girl. Beware eyes of venom, the winding coil’s twist, and death’s slithering kiss.” The sprite elongated the last syllable like a hiss.
Frustration flared in my veins, and I tried to banish the irritation from my voice. “Yes, I know, but we still don’t understand who—”
“You fail to understand, even as the truth is unfurled before you? Knowledge is seeing with both eyes open, Little Arrow.” It sputtered out a laugh.
I frowned. There it was again, the same axiom my father liked to quote. The Book had used it before, but it seemed to take on new meaning in light of the looming ritual.
Casimir remained silent, watching me with careful eyes.
“What about your warning, the one from before?” I pressed, reciting what I could remember of the Book’s prophecy.
“Beware the lips of sweetly word, treachery wears a friendly disguise.”
I awaited the Book’s answer, ignoring Casimir’s eyes burning a hole into the side of my face. I hadn’t shared this particular riddle from my night in the infirmary.
“Ah, you wish to know who has betrayed you?” the sprite rasped.
I waited, still not looking at Casimir. At once, two lines appeared below.
Two foes I foretold, as false as night.
One unsuspected, the other lurking in plain sight.
My body went cold, as though suddenly submerged in icy water. Two people had betrayed me? No, it wasn’t possible. The only people I trusted were Casimir, Gwen, and sometimes August. That meant—
“Farrow,” Casimir interrupted urgently, trying to stop the catastrophic train of my thoughts, but I silenced him with a look.
I turned back to the Book. “Who?” I demanded.
“Beneath the moonlight’s cold embrace. One lover bleeds and the other fades.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Casimir hissed.
The sprite giggled. “Bloodmagic demands a price. Two will pay with their lives, Darkseer.”
Casimir visibly paled and then slammed the Book shut on the table before us. He stood and began pacing the room, fists clenched at his sides while I tried to wrap my head around this declaration.
One lover bleeds and the other fades? In spite of myself, my cheeks burned at the use of the word “lover.” Did the sprite mean Casimir? Two will pay with their lives. Two lives. But whose?
“Arden,” Casimir suddenly stopped his pacing, his golden brown skin unusually pale. “You know I’d never—”
“I don’t believe you would betray me,” I said.
His lips parted in surprise. “You don’t?”
I shrugged. “I guess after everything that’s happened, I trust you.”
Casimir was momentarily rendered speechless. After a pause, he said, “You can’t taste my lies. That doesn’t bother you anymore?”
“No,” I admitted, both to Casimir and to myself. “It doesn’t.”
And there it was. Despite my not being able to taste his lies, I trusted him. I didn’t know when it had started, the day or week he’d first enmeshed himself into my life like an invasive vine, weaving through my heart and sinews. But there it was. Without realizing it, I’d fallen in over my head.
“I should have never let this happen,” Casimir growled, wrenching me from my reverie. His expression was laced with bitterness as he sank into the chair opposite me.
“The Book isn’t always literal,” I reasoned. “There are double meanings to everything it says. We should take this with a grain of salt.” Even as I said the words, doubt crept up, twining around my heart like a vice.
Two will pay with their lives, Darkseer.
Casimir frowned. “Has the Book ever made a prediction that came true?”
I hesitated, worrying my lip. The little sprite had accurately predicted Evren’s sudden appearance in the infirmary ward. “Well, yes—technically speaking.”
An uncomfortable silence followed this declaration.
He sighed. “Since we’re deciding to trust each other…”
I jerked my head up to meet his gaze, and found him already watching me closely, his eyes dark and wary.
“I think it’s time I told you about Isolde.”