Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
“I ask only truth,” I murmur, and draw my blade.
The cut across my palm is deep and clean. Blood spills freely, pattering onto the Eye’s surface. The artifact drinks greedily, warming as it awakens, its crimson veins blazing bright and then forming the familiar swirling pattern.
Pain lances through me—and with it, the Blood Lust roars awake, hot and sharp, clawing at my control.
Worth it, I tell myself grimly. I must make sure Julia is all right.
The patterns stop as the Eye opens, showing me what I need to see.
There she is—Julia—inside the carriage. She’s pale—too pale. Her arm is wrapped tightly around her friend, Hanna, who is shuddering against her, crying softly. Fear saturates the air like a sour fog. I also smell wine, heavy and cloying. And beneath it all—
Death.
Yes—I sense a grave-cold residue that has no place touching what is mine.
You should never have sent them alone.
The guilty thought strikes me like a blow. Rage coils instantly, vicious and protective, tightening my fists and clenching my jaw. I am already reaching for the Obsidian Reliquary beneath the floor—a forbidden device that would rip me across the Realm at catastrophic cost.
It would drain me for weeks but in using it, I will be able to get to my beloved’s side immediately.
I am halfway through the activation sigil when my doors burst open.
“My Lord!” a guard calls urgently. “The carriage has returned and the driver signals that there is trouble!”
She’s back! Relief crashes through me so violently it nearly steals my breath. But as for the trouble—we’ll have to see about that.
I don’t answer the guard—I’m already on the move.
The carriage has barely stopped before I tear the door open.
“Julia, are you well?” I demand. “Come here—let me see you!”
I pull her toward me, my hands skimming over her arms…her shoulders…her waist, searching for any injury.
She sways, unsteady, her skin cool beneath my touch.
“I’m fine—I’m all right,” she protests, but the words lack conviction.
The scent of wine clings to her—too much of it—but fear coils beneath it, sharp and unmistakable.
Hanna looks no better, her face drained of color, her body trembling as she clutches at the carriage rail.
“What is it? What happened?” I demand.
“Excuse me, my Lord.”
It is my bodyguard— Caelen Virex. His expression is grim as he steps forward.
“My Lord,” he says to me, “The Lady Hanna was attacked by some kind of entity or wraith while we were at the vineyards.”
“Attacked—in what way?” I scan Hanna as she shakily climbs down from the carriage. Caelen steadies her, his grip firm but respectful. Both women are swaying now, the wine unmistakable in the air.
“Are the two of you drunk?” I ask, disbelievingly.
“You’d get drunk too if a ghost attacked you in an outhouse!” Hanna exclaims and bursts out crying.
“Attacked by a ghost?” I shake my head. “What does that mean?”
“Just what she said—there was some kind of weird, see-through thing with skeleton hands,” Julia says. From the haunted look in her eyes, I know she saw it too.
Cold clarity settles in my bones.
“I see,” I murmur. “And did this entity touch you?” I ask Hanna.
“Y-yes,” she says, still crying. “H-here.”
She presses trembling fingers to the spot between her eyes.
Dread sinks its claws deep into my soul. I fear I know what happened…but I hope I’m wrong.
“Come up to my office—I need to examine that spot,” I tell her.
I wrap an arm around Julia, pulling her close, grounding myself in her warmth. She leans into me instinctively, and the simple act nearly undoes me. Despite all this danger and dread, I feel better with her at my side.
“Don’t worry, my darling, we’ll make sure your friend is all right,” I tell her.
But even as I say it, fear coils tight in my chest.
If the Necromancer Don has marked her…
I do not finish the thought. I simply lead them inside, already bracing myself for the truth.
54
Jules
Lucian’s arm is firm around my shoulders as we move through the corridors of the Crimson Spires. His presence is steady and grounding, like a wall I can lean against even when the world feels like it’s tilting sideways. On my other side, Hanna is half-supported by Lucian’s bodyguard, her steps slow and uneven and her breath coming in shallow, frightened little pulls.
She looks wrong.
Not injured—not bleeding—but drained somehow, as though the light has been dimmed inside her. I know that sounds weird, but I can’t explain it any better than that.
By the time we reach Lucian’s office, my heart is hammering so hard I feel it in my throat.
The room itself is massive and shadowed—all dark wood and vaulted ceilings, lit by a blood-red fire that burns low in the hearth. The windows look out over the Bleeding Court, though at the moment the curtains are drawn tight, as if even the Realm itself has been shut out to make room for what’s about to happen.