Chapter 66
Sixty-Six
I float in rippling black water, shadows caressing my limbs, sending familiar sensations of awareness.
Though my eyes are open, only an endless void meets my gaze. No light or shapes exist in this empty dimension. I blink rapidly, desperate for any sign of life.
Time becomes meaningless, and my thoughts panic until I hear a gravelly sound that bounces off the walls of my mind. All I can do is breathe and listen: “Sybella Nicnevin, the Witch-Queen herself, finally surrenders to the Oracle of Devana.”
Sybella?
I try to use my voice, but my lungs fill with an oily liquid, and the Oracle clicks its tongue.
“Do not speak unless you wish to die.” Its words echo as I levitate helplessly in the void.
“I have been waiting for you—the one prophesied. Too long have you ignored my shadows watching you. Too long have you ignored my call.” A force grazes my cheek before wrapping around my neck, squeezing tight.
I fight not to let panic consume me as my airway constricts.
The creature releases me and says, “Your power is great, but mine is greater; do not thwart the future that will be, young seer.”
My mind is in denial as the current whips around me in warning.
Young seer?
“Oh, yes, yes, yes… Do you not wonder at the peculiar whispers that nip at your heels? The powers you channel?”
Bubbles gurgle from my mouth, but I clamp my lips closed.
“You’re a portal—a vessel—my dear. A legend of past and present coming together, bursting through your veins, threatening to be unleashed so their story may be told.
Your mind holds tight, only letting in trickles of the visions begging to be seen, and as such, the spirits sing into your blood, allowing you to borrow their mighty powers to use against your enemies.
Whether you like it or not, you shall see the entirety of it all, and yet you will ruin the culmination of everything that has been. ”
I want to yell, scream, shout, but I’m terrified.
“Sweet child, why do you cry for what you’ve just done?”
The image of Ash’s face moves through my mind; I’m bombarded with memories of our complicated relationship—I sob in the dungeon—we kiss on the boat—an ivory ship sails across the bay at sunrise.
The Oracle cackles, revealing he can read my mind in this place.
Stop!
“Be proud of your choice. It is not your death that will break the blood debt, but his. He is the terror that follows you. He is the nightmare to come if you are weak enough to succumb. My dear girl, why do you feel this shame? You’ve chosen to rise to greatness rather than fall to ruin. You’ve prevented your own demise.”
What do you mean?
“Would it help to show you what’s to come? Drink up, drink my gift to you, and see.”
The shadows disappear, and a familiar creamy liquid surges into my mouth and down my throat.
* * *
I open my eyes, and I’m standing in the throne room of Alexandria Castle. A heavy tiara rests on my head as an out-of-control fire consumes the throne room.
The sounds of clashing swords and shields bounce off the stone walls, and the screams of the dying fill my ears as a great battle ensues. Bodies crumple around me as they disintegrate from the flames.
Somebody in black armor is shaking my shoulders. My neck tilts, and I see the emerald Achlys Dagger clutched in his grasp.
There’s no time to speak.
Ashland’s eyes harden as he drives the blade into my chest. The pain is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. The sharp edge impales my heart, searing and ripping me open. Bubbling crimson flows down my bodice, covering my trembling hands in dripping blood.
* * *
Screaming and gasping, I grab at my chest, trying to find the wound, searching for the blood.
But there’s nothing.
Instead, Ashland’s terrified eyes are the first thing I see. White flecks slice into his silver irises ever so slightly. It’s something I’ve never noticed before.
My breathing is disjointed as he moves closer. His dark hair falls forward as he leans over my bed in the healer’s cottage, the muscle in his jaw clenched. “You’re glowing.” He palms my face. “Tabitha, why are you glowing?”
I lift my hands to where I can see them. Flexing my fingers, I watch as the glow from the Rite of Allurement shines through my skin. I rasp, “I don’t know. This has never happened before. I don’t—I don’t understand.”
Then I remember the surge of liquid that went into my mouth after speaking with the Oracle. I’m more than disoriented and deep into confused panic, but somehow I know to keep my visions to myself. To not reveal what I saw.
To protect myself.
On the other side of the room, Valora studies me from afar and lets out a long sigh. Lir waits at the doorway, listening with his arms braced on the threshold. His face is lined with worry.
“You collapsed during the ceremony.” Ashland assists me into a sitting position, the white fur cloak from our wedding falling away to the floor.
He’s not wearing his armored gloves as his noticeably bare hands support my back and shoulder.
The support is comforting—and wrong as my glow thrums with his touch.
My heart begins to race when I see how drained and white his face is—too white—deathly white.
What shame I once felt is gone, but it doesn’t stop me from trying to touch and feel my lips—but I stop myself.
I’m no fool. We both knew it would always come down to this. My eyes sting, but I hide the buried emotion trying to claw its way out.
I’m a jewel. Made of stone. No feelings.
I push him away.
He’s too close.
Smells too familiar.
Ashland abruptly lets go. “Leave us. I need to speak to Tabitha alone,” he says, his voice tight.
There’s a tense silence as Lir stomps out of the cottage, and the door slams. Snow crunches beneath his retreating footsteps as he disappears into the night. A draft of cold air swirls around my body.
Valora fastens her cloak as she glances between Ashland and me. “Tell her what the elder said after she collapsed. It cannot wait.”
Ashland’s gaze snaps to Valora’s, alarm passing between them.
“What now?” I slowly rise to my feet, wobbling and holding onto the mattress.
Valora cinches her belt over her cloak. Her voice is blunt as she looks me up and down, clearly still analyzing my strange glow. “You may feel relief right now, but the Bonded Matrimony won’t fully cure you—”
“—until it’s consummated,” Ashland finishes her sentence.
Appearing to disapprove of the entire scene, Valora shakes her head and leaves the cottage.
“I’m leaving too,” I whisper, backing away. “This was in name only, remember?” I look around for my boots, but I don’t see them anywhere.
“Damn it, Tabitha, I didn’t know the replacement wouldn’t work without—” He runs his hand through his hair, stress in every line of his forehead. “We can go to the Citadel and figure this out.”
“I told you I’m leaving. You can try to follow, but I don’t think you’ll get very far.
” Knowing time is running out, I push past him and sprint through the open door.
Wearing only my black wedding dress, I wince as my feet sting with each step through the snow.
The slush travels up my calves. Despite the frigid pain, I trudge through.
Quickly following, Ashland calls out, “Tabitha.”
I turn around in the empty street, but I keep walking backward, trying to see him through the dim lantern light lining the path to the shore.
Ashland’s lips are graying, and he begins to cough, slowing his chase. “Tabitha—what d-did you do?” he sputters.
I pause. “What needed to be done.”
“How?”
Taking two more steps back, I slowly explain, “Remember what Valora used to say? Men’s underestimation of women would be their greatest weakness?”
He grabs his left arm and staggers, almost falling.
“Those words are very important to me because they described what I’d been living for so many years.
You see, Balor Black was many things—a teacher being one of them.
When he became my Keeper, he taught me to source herbs and grind them into my lip stain.
He taught me how to seduce and kill men who went against him.
” My voice cracks. “If they didn’t bend their wills to the manipulation of my body, then Balor would have me end their lives. I was his weapon.”
He shuffles a few steps.
“My heart was numb to it until my best friend became involved. Her Keeper was always an affectionate man; he convinced Beatrix that he loved her. Maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t.
Unfortunately, he also enjoyed stirring trouble among the High Council…
It shattered her heart when I poisoned him, and that genuinely surprised me.
Watching her broke something in me. I understood grief for once.
Every vapid thought I previously held turned into trying to understand why I couldn’t feel guilt or remorse for all those lives I took, why I was empty…
and that ate away at my soul, not understanding my humanity. ”
“If you’d—”
“I’m sorry that the hemlock I used is slow-releasing. It was the only thing I could find at the cottage. Please believe me when I tell you that I didn’t want to become this person again.”
He gives me a pitying look. “If you’d only been patient, my failing heart would have saved you all of this trouble.”
My glow falters. “Failing heart?”
“I was already dying, Tabitha.” Each of his words is a concerted effort. His nose starts to bleed, the blood dripping down his jaw. He fumbles for something inside his cloak, dropping a wrapped parcel. A tincture bottle slips out of it and lands on the snow. “I’m the last of my bloodline...”
Remembering the small package Adele thrust at him, my breath catches in my throat, and I stop retreating. Tears fill my eyes. “I’m sorry, Ash.”
Ashland collapses into the snow, his armor making a loud noise on impact. Shadows billow out from him, weak and nearly invisible.
Lights ignite in the cottages lining the street. Voices ring out. One yells, “Who’s out there?”
I hesitate, reaching out to him, my hand illuminated by my flickering glow.
But I know it’s done. We’re out of time. I abandon my heartbreak to die with him and lift my skirts to run toward the ship.
I’m running toward Klara.
I’m running toward every courtesan.
Every instructor. Every madame. There will be no need to rely on a man’s army.
Not when I plan to make my own.