He ignores me, but I feel the acute strengthening of the presence in the back of my mind. The feminine creature that lurks, often dormant, but now utterly, totally awake.
“Shadowflame,” he says softly. “Fire that feeds on darkness. Only possible because of a cursed host inhabiting your body. One of the souls stolen by Abhartach. It seems…that somehow, you were given a passenger who possesses such a power. And you have created a bond with that demon.”
“She doesn’t want it,” Vann snaps out.
For a second, I hesitate. That was certainly true at one point. At one point, all I could think about was being free. But Cursed One has been there when no one else was.
I’m almost touched.
“No one ever does,” he says slowly. “Try to see if you can access the power.”
“Arlet, this could be dangerous,” Vann says sharply. “Do you honestly think this is a good idea?”
I look at him again, see the earnest devotion, and melt.
“I want to know what he’s talking about.” I turn back to Castien. “How do you know any of this?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he holds up his hand, and from his palm, a shadow begins to flicker. Something akin to a flame.
I gasp, and lean forward. It’s like…Arion’s power. Like my power. Cursed One practically hums with delight.
“You have one too,” I say.
He nods and extinguishes the shadowflame. “I believe, in old tales, they called my kind warlocks—those who get their power from some sort of dark source. Personally, I feel the term ‘demon’ is too charged. We all use power for good and bad; I don’t consider one better than another.”
“Except,” I say, “Cursed One has been trapped in some dark fiery pit. She didn’t choose to bind herself to me, Arion did it through the help of Thorne. She would prefer to be free.”
Castien tilts his head to the side. “She is not only bound to you, it seems. That collar”—he points to my neck—“gives Arion her power as well. She is not a lesser soul. She is one of the most powerful I have ever encountered.”
My mouth falls open.
I think back to Mrath’s attack at the masquerade. I had asked her what that magic was and she replied, “Me.”
Arion is using me to get to your power?I ask.
Cursed One doesn’t respond.
Is this what you couldn’t tell me?
Part of it.
Lord Castien interrupts my thoughts. “Has she given you her name? It isn’t wise to say it aloud.”
I pause. “No.”
“Ah,” he says. Then he reignites the flame and it appears right in front of me. “No matter. I want you to touch this. Just to be sure.”
“Arlet,” Vann says, reentering the conversation, “be careful. It could hurt you. You are already weak.”
The concern in his voice touches me again.
“I will be careful,” I say softly.
Then Castien adds, “Better now than when it burns bright during another trial.”
Nervous, I reach for it. The moment my fingers brush through theflickering apparition, cold floods my veins. The world narrows. Shadows pour up my arms, curling around me like smoke.
Cursed One’s voice hums inside my chest.Does it feel good to know this power, Arlet?