Chapter 48
The euphoria from our lovemaking had not fully subsided when Sybelle uttered those words to me. They rang in my mind, circling over and over again until the elation died, and dread and anger took its place.
Sybelle stared at me with worry in her eyes. She chewed on her lower lip, and I could smell the fear wafting from her.
She thought I would be angry, just like when she’d told me of her dragon. She thought that I would deny her claim that Tislora was a traitor. That I might rescind the declaration I had spoken only moments earlier.
I wasn’t sure how I could read all of this on her face. Ever since our bodies had come together, I could sense her thoughts. I wasn’t sure why, but in this moment, it kept my anger at bay.
I swallowed hard. “Why do you think this?” My voice was low and rough, and I couldn’t keep the rumbling anger from my tone. I had just told her how much I trusted her. I needed to prove that right now.
Besides, I was about to tell her the truth about the curse and what it would demand from her. The least I could do was hear her explanation.
She flinched, as if she had expected me to roar at her. I took a steadying breath. Perhaps she had a good reason for suggesting Tislora was a traitor. Surely, she would not base this off of petty jealousy alone.
Sybelle’s words came out in a rush. “When Warwick found me in the Noxen Forest, I was looking for something. A glowing jeweled rose. When I touched it, it brought me to a memory of when the witch cast the curse.”
I went rigid, my body taut with awareness. Slowly, I sat us both up so she was cradled against my bare chest. “You found the bloodstone?”
Her eyes grew wide. “That’s what it’s called?”
I nodded. “It was buried long ago by my ancestors who believed the stone itself was cursed. They thought that, in surrendering it to the earth, it gave our people a chance to conquer the curse on their own. Obviously, they were wrong.”
Sybelle shook her head. “It’s a memory stone. It holds the memories of that day.”
I recalled Murvo’s claim that there were other requirements to break the curse. Excitement quickened my pulse. “Do you remember the exact words of the spell?”
She glanced around, her hair whipping back and forth as she searched for something. With a grunt, she scooted away from me, crawling toward our shredded clothing, until she found a crumpled piece of parchment. She thrust it at me.
“This is what I remember from the memory. I wrote it all down.”
My brows lowered as my eyes roved over Sybelle’s hasty scribblings. Something knotted in my chest at the sight of those haunting words right in front of me. For centuries, this curse had lived on, and no one had documented it.
But here were the words, scrawled on this wrinkled parchment.
Emotion thickened in my throat, and I forced myself to read over the words three times. I had heard stories of that day, passed down from my father and his father before that .
They had destroyed the witch clans. Without trial. Without mercy.
And now, reading the words of the curse, my stomach plummeted with shame and regret so potent that my eyes stung with unshed tears.
“You were there?” I asked, my voice thick. “In the memory—you saw what happened?”
Sybelle nodded, her expression grim. “Varius, it was horrible. What King Ragnus did…” She shuddered.
“I know.”
She stared at me. “You know?”
“I did not see it for myself, but my father told me the stories. I learned early on that Father only took pride in the most vicious and savage acts of destruction. The way he spoke of this slaughter, this execution… it was with a fondness that made me feel ill. I always knew that what my great-grandfather did to the witches was the gravest injustice.”
Sybelle’s eyes were moist with tears. “Well, I’m glad you know—that someone knows. I just wish something could be done to make it right.”
My gaze dropped to the parchment with Sybelle’s messy handwriting on it. Mother of Shade, I had been yearning to find the details of the curse. And this incredible woman had freely given it to me. I gave her a look of pure awe. “You have no idea what it means that you’ve shared this with me.”
She offered a hesitant smile, her eyes turning guarded once more.
“I was researching everything I could about enchantments and curses. I found an ancient text that stated a witch’s spell can outlive her through her bloodline.
” She pointed to a phrase on the parchment.
“ The curse will live on as my line lives on. Do you see? I think one of the witches had a child no one knew about, and that child lives on. That’s what’s fueling the curse. ”
My heart lurched with recognition. Was this what Murvo had been trying to warn me about? If we discovered who this descendant was, ending their life would end my people’s suffering.
“I still don’t understand why you think it’s Tislora,” I said slowly.
“She has magic,” Sybelle said shortly. “ Witch magic. She’s the only fae I’ve seen who casts spells like the witch in the memory did.
” She paused, then said, “And also, the bloodstone is missing. Enzira and Ramia didn’t see it.
But Tislora was with us when I lost consciousness. I think she might have taken it.”
“Sybelle.” I sighed. “I trust Tislora with my life. The things we have endured together…” I shook my head. “It cannot be her.”
Sybelle bit her lip and dropped her gaze to the floor, wringing her hands together. “I was afraid you might say that.”
I placed my large hand over hers to still her.
With my other hand, I nudged my knuckle under her chin, tilting her face to meet mine.
I leaned in, brushing my lips against hers in the softest of touches.
She made a startled sound, then leaned into me, accepting my kiss.
My arm came around her, pressing into her back and bringing her flush against my chest. A hum of contentment rumbled from me as the kiss hardened and deepened, our tongues clashing and breaths mingling.
When I pulled away, she was panting, her hands around my neck as if to pull me in for more.
I almost wanted her to.
“Whatever Tislora and I shared,” I said breathlessly, “is nothing compared to what you and I shared here tonight. No other female has ever elicited such passion from me, Sybelle. It is you and only you. Do you understand?”
Her breath hitched, and she nodded, her eyes shining.
I inhaled deeply. “But, if you are concerned, I will speak to her about it. Right now, in fact. If she is loyal to me, as I believe she is, then she will not object to swearing an oath in her blood. She might despise me for it, but she will not refuse. ”
Sybelle’s brows lifted, her lips parting. “You would do that?”
“Yes. I would.”
Clearly, she had not expected me to agree to this. She gave me a broad smile, her eyes crinkling. Mother of Shade, she looked so devastatingly beautiful.
I carefully stroked strands of her hair out of her eyes, my mind snagging on something that had been burrowing within me for a long time. It wasn’t until I had met Sybelle that the thoughts had grown stronger. More insistent.
“You said you wish something could be done for the witches,” I said softly.
I took her hand in mine. “Perhaps something can.” When she only frowned, I said, “I have heard stories of persecuted witches in other kingdoms. Some have sought refuge in our lands, but because of the lingering hatred brewing between the unseelie and the witch clans, they always felt they were unwelcome.”
Sybelle’s brows drew together in concern as I continued, “Perhaps… I can change that. I can send decrees throughout the kingdom that witch refugees are to be welcomed. I can create a fund to help them start new lives here. It will take some time to undo hundreds of years of prejudice, but—but perhaps it’s the change we need to move this kingdom in the right direction. ”
Fresh tears brimmed in her eyes. “Are you serious?”
I nodded solemnly. “I’ve wrestled with the guilt of my forefathers for my entire life. It’s time I actually did something about it. I can’t do anything for the witches who were killed, but perhaps I can help others.”
Sybelle’s breath hitched, and a tear raced down her cheek.
“Varius, I—I don’t know what to say. It’s a beautiful idea.
It’s… incredible . It’s…” She made a frustrated sound, clearly at a loss for words, then laughed as she leaned in and kissed me again.
Her mouth moved hungrily over mine, claiming me again and again with fervor.
Her fingers threaded through my hair, and her legs wrapped around me.
I grew hard for her all over again from that singular movement.
I growled in her mouth, devouring her fully, my hands gripping her thighs and spreading them wider.
I broke away from her before I thrust into her all over again. I knew she must already be hurting from our intimacy. To repeat those actions might cause permanent damage to her human body.
“If you don’t stop,” I murmured, “then I will rip apart more of this floor, and the whole castle will hear you screaming my name.”
She exhaled a shaky laugh before sliding off my lap. I grumbled as she put more distance between us. Part of me had been hoping she would say, Do it, Varius. Let the castle hear us.
But the logical side of my brain knew there were more important matters at hand.
For starters, I needed to speak with Tislora. Sybelle was right. If Tislora had connections to witch magic, then she might know who this lost descendant was.
It couldn’t be Tislora. It couldn’t be.
But I had to find out for sure. I had to show Sybelle that I trusted her.
And once I did this, once I demonstrated my trust, then I would tell her the truth about the curse. I would tell her what the curse would demand of her.
Every human bride before Sybelle had given their blood to ward off the shadows, whether willingly or unwillingly.