Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
ARYELLA
Given how much truth I kept from you, and for how long I kept it, this advice is hypocritical for me to give. But the answers you deserve matter most, so it’s advice I implore you to follow. Don’t let anyone leave you in the dark. Ask questions.
Keep asking them until you get what you need.
Trust your gut.
And always assume your uncle is hiding something.
—FROM THE BUTCHER OF NYRIDA’S LAST KNOWN LETTERS TO QUEEN ARYELLA I
I still hadn’t found an opportunity to break into Elias’s quarters and search for the key to that secret room.
I wasn’t positive it was hidden there, but it felt like the best place to start.
As the person in charge, the key to any restricted information about dark magic that this fortress contained would be in his possession.
If I had to, I would find another, riskier time to break into his quarters, consequences be damned.
I was starting to consider using other methods of coercion.
I could pretend to take him up on his “offer,” find a way to get what I needed, then get out again.
I really didn’t want to play that game, but I would if it helped end the blood oath.
Today, there was another issue I could no longer ignore.
I didn’t want to talk to Simeon, but my most recent nightmare had me shoving some of that reluctance aside.
In the letters Gavin left, he told me to assume Simeon was always hiding something.
There was so much I didn’t know. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that the nightmare—that voice, those hands, the castle —had something to do with the source of our magic.
Some answers were overdue. I had already waited too long. I still planned on making him answer for himself face-to-face. For now, I could hide behind this identity, but I had to prepare myself for when my ruse ended.
Before Mavic and Mina left for supper, I told them my stomach hurt and I wasn’t going to eat.
I had hoarded some rolls and jerky from the mess hall during lunchtime, knowing this was my plan.
I was barely hungry, but even four months after sending Gavin away, his voice still reminded me to eat.
I couldn’t let myself become weak again like he’d found me in Warrich.
While eating, I thought of all the questions I needed to ask Simeon. The list was endless. I would have to prioritize what I needed to know over what I wanted to know and doubted he would be truthful either way.
After swallowing my last bite of bread, I decided it was time.
“I know you’re watching me somehow, Uncle,” I said aloud to the room.
My voice sounded louder, even over my pulse pounding in my ears.
I glanced around and wondered what I looked like to him.
He was probably sitting at a table or desk, observing me in some sort of glass ball.
“Well, I have questions, so send me one of your little notes if that’s how you’d like to do this. ”
A piece of parchment roughly the size of my palm materialized on the bed beside me.
Ask away.
I ground my teeth together. Even though I asked, the phrase was grating. Sure, ask away so he could decide what secrets to continue to keep.
What magic is this you’re using?
I watched the note disappear. When it returned, I knew his words would be carefully crafted to make me believe what he wanted. I began to read the next note before it fully materialized.
The magic Molochai and I discovered four hundred years ago is a system of knowledge. Of spells and curses.
I flinched. Curses , like the one I was told killed Christabel.
Where are the spells?
His reply came faster this time.
There is a book. A grimoire. Two copies. Molochai and I transcribed them ourselves after discovering our power. I have one. He has the other. Only our families can read it.
I scribbled back, Transcribed from where?
He didn’t answer, so I tried something else.
Molochai has more than the grimoire. He has shadows.
I remembered them under my skin, in my veins, poisoning my blood, violating me with incomparable agony.
That is something else , Simeon wrote. It is corrupt. I will not speak of it here.
I remembered the story Gemma told me in Warrich. Some of it was false, but some I knew was true.
“He took something dark and evil—all?consuming shadows,” she had said.
Months ago, I was overwhelmed, weak, and hungry. I had accepted it all too quickly for the sake of surviving and getting out of that house. I should have asked more questions, but I’d been reduced to a shell, and I had barely known where to begin.
Simeon thought I would take this lying down, but I would continue to seek out some semblance of the truth.
Dark and evil , I wrote. All-consuming shadows.
He immediately replied, Yes.
Molochai had taken more . From what? From whom? That magic came from somewhere, but the only source of magic I knew were the gods themselves.
The god with the power closest to shadows was…
Does Molochai have Nyxar’s power?
Shame shuddered through me, as if the suggestion had offended something deep within my bones.
My body’s recoil was so strong and visceral that I didn’t need Simeon’s answer to know that Nyxar’s power was not corrupted, but good.
He was midnight personified, as if midnight could come alive and seize the pain and ugliness revealed by daylight, crush it, stomp it out, and leave nothing but peace and pure light in the wake of never-ending power.
Simeon’s note returned and rested on the table before me.
I will not speak of it here.
I plopped down in the chair and rubbed my tired eyes.
Why don’t you tell anyone else how magic works?
I’m telling you right now, Aryella.
I had never heard his voice in this lifetime, but I could hear the impatience in that note. From wherever he watched. I made a point to roll my eyes, knowing he could probably see.
Where did the magic come from? I wrote.
The note disappeared, and a blank note reappeared. Not an answer, but a suggestion to ask something else. I cursed under my breath, enraged that I didn’t have much choice but to play his game.
Please, Simeon.
Another blank note. I fumed but forced myself to change course, for now.
Can magic be taught to others?
Finally, a response.
The magic exists only in your veins, in mine, and in Molochai’s. Our bloodlines are the only ones that have it. Sharing the information with others would benefit no one.
No. That was wrong. Even if they couldn’t wield it themselves, others could help think, research, and understand. Why keep others in the dark when their lives were just as much at stake?
Why are we the only ones who have the magic? I wrote.
I hoped this would guide him back to the source, but all he gave me was: It is as it was agreed upon. It can only be obtained one of two ways: stolen through murder or through bloodlines. It’s meant to grow stronger with each generation.
I frowned. If that were the case, then Gavin, Molochai’s son, would have been teaching me magic from the day he set foot in Warrich. He would have taken any opportunity to keep me away from Simeon, if he could keep me safe in the process.
If it’s only our bloodline and Molochai’s that can wield magic, why didn’t Smyth wield it?
It had taken me months to accept, but I trusted Gavin had done everything with my best interests in mind, wrong or not.
If he’d been able to wield magic, he would have shown me.
In fact, I had an inkling that if Gavin had been able to teach me everything I needed to know, including magic, he would have just abducted me and run.
My feet padded across the wooden floor of the cabin before I dug a book out of my bag, tore off a blank corner, scribbled out another question and hoped for the best.
Was he capable of wielding magic, Simeon?
Seconds passed, and then, No.
My hope sputtered out and died like a weak flame caught in a windstorm.
Why not?
Let’s focus on you , he answered.
I groaned in frustration but obliged, writing back, My powers first came to me in Tovick. Why didn’t my powers show until then?
He was quicker to answer: You were weak.
Did you want me to be weak? I scribbled.
I didn’t want you to suffer alone.
A nonanswer, and one I didn’t believe. How could you take away someone’s identity while claiming you never wanted them to suffer?
He told me you kept me locked up back then, too. You couldn’t control my powers. And you’ve tried to do the same to me in this life. Why? Was leaving me cold and starving done with the intent to protect me? Was keeping me weak done for my benefit?
The longer I waited, the more I accepted he was going to dance around the truth.
As I said, I never wanted you to suffer alone. Elowen disobeyed my direct orders, even after I demanded she return to you. She’s been dealt with. You won’t need to worry about her for quite some time.
My stomach soured. What the hell did that mean? Simeon was capable of intricately dangerous lies, but I had yet to discover what else he was capable of. Despite my resentment toward Elowen, I didn’t want her harmed . How cruel was he, really, in the way of punishments?
Is Elowen all right?
His reply was quick: You’re exactly like your mother.
My throat constricted at the mention of her. I longed for a single piece of her. I could have sworn I heard a faint, lighthearted rumble from Simeon’s end of whatever this was. I found none of this particularly funny, but I’d be lying to say I wasn’t pleased to witness some humanity.
What does that mean? I wrote back.
Overly concerned for others, to your own detriment.
My eyes burned. From what little I’d read about Christabel, I knew she’d been good .
I wouldn’t know. You took her from me, too.
What felt like an eternity passed, and I knew I’d struck him somewhere soft.
From what little I knew of Simeon, he’d adored his younger sister.
I couldn’t help but wonder why that adoration and love hadn’t translated to me.
I had an instinctual feeling that she would disapprove of what Simeon had done to me.