Chapter 13 #2
With that, she sweeps away, the ends of her dress a river trailing after her down the stairs. I’m shaking from head to toe, and it’s an effort to stop my teeth from chattering when I ask, ‘Was she talking about my hex? How did she know?’
‘Eira has a great many talents,’ Damian says simply.
‘She . . . She smelled my hex. That’s not a talent, that’s . . .’ In the grand scheme of things, it’s meaningless, and not what I came here to discuss. But the ghost of her lingers, like a part of her managed to latch on to my soul and her talons are digging in, even now. ‘It’s creepy.’
‘That’s one word for her.’
I almost laugh. Once my pulse has settled, I join him by the parapet. The courtyard below is empty now, a lone green banner that’s fallen from a wall gently floating over the grass.
‘How do you know her?’ I ask.
At first, I don’t think he’s going to answer, biding his time by rolling a loose rock beneath his gloved finger until white lines are scratched into the surface of the stone. ‘We were together, briefly. I found out what she was around the same time I got hexed. Eira is having trouble letting go.’
A lump forms in my throat. ‘You can’t accept her because of what another Souleater did?’
‘Even if I wanted to, what would be the point?’ He holds up a hand so the moonlight can halo his glove.
‘The point would be to be with the person you love!’ I say. ‘So what if you can’t feel anything? At least you have gloves to keep her safe. Was she the Souleater who made them for you?’
He nods. ‘Don’t tell me you think I should be grateful.’
‘I think you shouldn’t give up on someone because they’re a Souleater.’
He scoffs. ‘Have you forgotten what a Souleater did to me? To you?’
‘No, but . . . I overheard you talking. She said she didn’t want to be tempted. She was talking about using her powers, wasn’t she? She’s trying to stop, just to be with you. Isn’t that enough?’
‘There is no future for me and Eira,’ he says flatly.
‘Why do you think she wasn’t invited here tonight?
Aside from the obvious. She learned I sought the potion and immediately warded it so I could never touch it myself.
If she knew this party was more than a display of my wealth, that I’m using the contest as a workaround to her ploy, she would assume I planned to use the potion against her, no matter how much I tried to convince her otherwise.
She will never risk relinquishing her power.
No Souleater would. She’d kill me the moment she found out I continued looking for it. ’
I bite my lip, wanting to tell him there’s a Souleater standing in front of him who’d love to give that power up, but he’d never believe me.
‘Why are you really here?’ he asks. ‘You didn’t come to talk about Eira.’
It’s true. And pressuring him about her isn’t going to get me a leg up in this contest.
I take a deep breath. ‘You’re right, I didn’t. I came to ask for your help.’
He raises a brow. ‘Oh?’
‘Tell me everything I need to know to win. All the things you left out of your speech. Where the Souleaters hid the cure, and what I need to do to get inside. Tell me before you tell anybody else.’
In case he’s thinking about saying no, I slide my hand over his for good measure. His eyes meet mine, and I squeeze slightly. A reminder that we were a team on that dance floor, us against the stares of the other contestants, and maybe we could be a team again, if only he’d tell me what I need.
‘Please, Damian. I’m not . . . I’m not the strongest person in the room.
The fastest. Bravest. But if I don’t win, I’m going to lose my home.
This sweet, lovely inn on the edge of Wolf Forest. It’s my safe haven.
A place I can pretend my hex doesn’t exist. And whether you want to admit it or not, I think you understand that.
You surround yourself in riches the way I hide behind my home.
Imagine you couldn’t touch someone and you had no wealth to speak of.
That’s what’ll happen to me if I lose. I’ll have nothing. ’
He turns his hand over until we’re palm to palm. ‘Not nothing,’ he says, lips twitching. ‘You have a talent for impassioned speeches.’
‘Does that mean you’ll tell me everything now?’
He sighs. ‘There’s a building in the old Souleater settlement, north of Rerta.
A temple, the Souleaters called it, although it was more of a community hall if anything.
It was the place they gathered to learn their tricks, and to mourn the loss of Ozias after his demise.
The potion’s hidden there. The Souleaters warded the temple before it was abandoned, and now it can only be opened with two items that indicate the holder is a friend to Ozias.
Many Souleater artefacts were lost or destroyed after his death, but there may be a few hidden around Rerta.
Ozias used to work for the king, supplying him with magical objects to help keep him in power – few knew of the deal they’d made.
He’d drop the items at prearranged rendezvous points, hidden by enchantments, and I believe some of them remain. Anything he’s touched should suffice.’
I suppose that explains the bust. Ozias probably forced the king to speak in his favour in return for magical gifts.
I swallow, squashing my disappointment their friendship wasn’t as genuine as I’d hoped, and try to focus on the positive. Damian doesn’t know it, but I’ve had the edge I needed all along.
Whatever dark magic Ozias used to make the artefacts, it’ll leave a trace. A lingering scent of the emotion behind the magic.
And I might be the only person in this competition who can sense it.
Still, it wouldn’t hurt to try to get some more out of him. ‘And you don’t know where any of the items are? You can’t give me one tiny clue?’
‘I have an inkling about one, but I don’t know how to get past Ozias’s enchantments. The more people I send out in search, the higher chance someone will be successful.’
I sidle closer. ‘And your inkling leads to . . . where, exactly?’
He cocks his head. I don’t think subtle interrogation is one of my talents, but he humours me anyway. ‘I have access to some old journals. In one of their entries, they mention a statue inside Rerta’s central park. I suspect that may have been one of Ozias’s hiding spots.’
‘The park?’ Immediately, every thought of Souleaters and keys vanishes in favour of exhilaration. A slow smile spreads across my face. ‘Isn’t that where the love festival is taking place?’
Damian nods, and my smile splits into a grin.
Oh, Astin is going to hate this.