“Hello, old friend,” he murmured, his voice as smooth as velvet. He shot me a meaningful glance, which I realized was my cue to speak.
“Um, hello, sprite. We were wondering if you’d like some company? And maybe the three of us can have… a bit of a chat… If you’re up for it,” I added hastily. Despite the fact that the sprite and I were now coconspirators, I was riddled with anxiety. What if the stupid sprite decided to rebel? “Please,” I coaxed, “we’re both so anxious to speak to you…”
I reached out to grasp Casimir’s hand, and he shot me a quizzical look. “Trust me,” I said, then placed his hand on the Book. I held my breath, waiting on tenterhooks. After what felt like ages had passed, the Book trembled again as a horribly familiar rasp filled the room.
“Ah,” it purred. “No living being has touched me so intimately in many centuries, Darkseer.”
Casimir grimaced and withdrew his hand as though burned.
I bit back a snort of laughter at the sprite’s unrequited flirtations.
The Book cackled devilishly. “For what purpose does the Darkseer disturb me from my slumbers? Does he desire the company of this ancient little sprite?”
I let out a sharp exhale, gratified and heady from my success. “Can you tell us more about the Keeper’s Heir?” I asked. “Oh, and please forgive us for disturbing you. We are lost without your wisdom, oh wise and ancient one,” I added, hoping the sprite possessed minimal abilities to detect sarcasm.
A moment passed, and then it replied, “I warned you once before, girl. Beware eyes of venom, the winding coil’s twist, and death’s slithering kiss.” The sprite elongated the last syllable like a hiss.
Frustration flared in my veins, and I tried to banish the irritation from my voice. “Yes, I know, but we still don’t understand who?—”
“You fail to understand, even as the truth is unfurled before you? Knowledge is seeing with both eyes open, Little Arrow.” It sputtered out a laugh.
I frowned. There it was again, the same axiom my father liked to quote. The Book had used it before, but it seemed to take on new meaning in light of the looming ritual.
Casimir remained silent, watching me with careful eyes.
“What about your warning, the one from before?” I pressed, reciting what I could remember of the Book’s prophecy.
“Beware the lips of sweetly word, treachery wears a friendly disguise.”
I awaited the Book’s answer, ignoring Casimir’s eyes burning a hole into the side of my face. I hadn’t shared this particular riddle from my night in the infirmary.
“Ah, you wish to know who has betrayed you?” the sprite rasped.
I waited, still not looking at Casimir. At once, two lines appeared below.
Two foes I foretold, as false as night.
One unsuspected, the other lurking in plain sight.
My body went cold, as though suddenly submerged in icy water. Two people had betrayed me? No, it wasn’t possible. The only people I trusted were Casimir, Gwen, and sometimes August. That meant?—
“Farrow,” Casimir interrupted urgently, trying to stop the catastrophic train of my thoughts, but I silenced him with a look.
I turned back to the Book. “Who?” I demanded.
“Beneath the moonlight’s cold embrace. One lover bleeds and the other fades.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Casimir hissed.
The sprite giggled. “Bloodmagic demands a price. Two will pay with their lives, Darkseer.”
Casimir visibly paled and then slammed the Book shut on the table before us. He stood and began pacing the room, fists clenched at his sides while I tried to wrap my head around this declaration.
One lover bleeds and the other fades?In spite of myself, my cheeks burned at the use of the word “lover.” Did the sprite mean Casimir?Two will pay with their lives. Two lives. But whose?
“Arden,” Casimir suddenly stopped his pacing, his golden brown skin unusually pale. “You know I’d never?—”
“I don’t believe you would betray me,” I said.