“How the hell do you know my name?” I hissed, feeling like a complete idiot. “What are you?”
A heartbeat later, the Book answered. “Manners, Little Arrow. If you want me to reveal my secrets, you’d do well to remember to respect your elders.” A pause. “Your countenance displeases me. Where is the Dark One?”
Insults aside, something about that crooning, cruel rasp chilled me to the core.
“If you’re talking about Casimir, he’s not here right now. He—uh—lent me—you,” I explained awkwardly.
Another minute passed before the voice spoke again. “And pray tell,” the voice began in a tone of unmistakable annoyance, “what is it you seek from me?”
“Tell me about the ritual the Bloodthorn Order is planning. I need to know how I can stop them.”
Another pause. “Why do you seek to stop the rebels from completing their ritual?”
“I—It’s my friend, August,” I explained. “Devereaux wants to use him during this ritual. He didn’t realize what the Order was when he was indoctrinated, and now he’s in danger.”
“Your friend? Or your paramour?” the Book taunted.
I winced. “Does it matter?”
“I enjoy gossip as much as the next creature,” the voice crooned.
I sighed. “Fine, yes. I was in a… thing with him. But it’s over now.”
“A thing? What does the mortal girl mean, ‘a thing’?”
“Never mind about that,” I huffed, beginning to feel frustrated. “What can you tell me about the ritual? Or about the Order?”
The pages began to rustle again, and I stared in astonishment as an invisible hand began scrawling inky words across the blank page before me.
Twenty-four years ago, the Queen Consort, Nymara Pax, ascended to the throne following the suspicious demise of her husband, King Caladryn. Upon her coronation, Nymara demanded vows of fealty from her subjects across all six castes: Ereborn, Siphoners, Bloodweavers, Morphers, Nytherians, and the Alchemists alike were commanded to appear at court and vow their allegiances, including the recently disgraced Graves family.
For several years, the Ethervaleans dwelled in relative peace under Pax’s rule, but eventually, resentment among the courtiers festered. Nobles who once held power under the deceased King Evander and later under Caladryn, began plotting in secret; the surviving members secretly swore to seize power at the first opportunity.
When King Evander’s own son and heir, Devereaux Graves, came into possession of an ancient text which contained the secrets to unlocking a lost form of magic, known as ‘blüd-majik,’ or ‘bloodmagic,’ he seized the chance to enact his revenge. Along with his co-conspirators in the nobility, Devereaux refined and expanded the limits of his powers until he was ready to organize a coup.
The council convened a hearing to address rumors of civilians dabbling in bloodmagic, reminding citizens that the practice was strictly forbidden to all but the Queen. They saw the Order’s use of bloodmagic for the threat that it was. But after enduring Pax’s reign for decades, the seeds of mutiny could not be unsown. Led by their young and ambitious lord, the Bloodthorn Order launched what would become a bloody rebellion.
I flicked to the next page, raking my eyes over the words that began to appear all too slowly.
The Queen discovered their betrayal. Enraged, she vowed to punish the usurpers. For a time, Devereaux and his Order’s coup seemed successful, thanks to their network of spies and assassins at court, but the Queen wielded unforeseen powers of her own. Within months, Nymara Pax’s own spies arrested the Order infiltrators and quashed the rebellion. As punishment for their betrayal against the crown and council, she ordered that their flesh be marked with the Moros as a reminder, a punishment for their rebellion. The families of the traitors were tortured and imprisoned while Devereaux and his disgraced Order were banished to the human realm.
With cold, prickling awareness, I thought of the eye-shaped brand—the Moros—seared into Casimir’s skin. A reminder that they are always watching. Casimir had said his involvement in the rebellion had been coerced…but he’d left out pertinent details. Why had Devereaux and the others been exiled, rather than killed?
“Tell me more about the rebellion,” I demanded, forgetting my plan to find out about the ritual. “What’s Casimir’s role in all of this?”
“Don’t be greedy, Little Arrow,” the Book purred. The tenor of its voice was at once cruel and trilling, a rough, teasing lilt that grated against my ears.
“Why did Casimir fight alongside the Order in the rebellion against the Queen? And what exactly is bloodmagic? Is Devereaux planning to use it in the ritual?”
The Book sighed, bored with this persistent line of questioning. “I grow weary of your questions...” it complained. “Why not ask the Darkseer himself?I smell him on your skin.”
“The Darkseer?” I repeated. The phrase sounded strangely hollow on my tongue.
“Yes, Casimir Wrayburn is a Darkseer,” answered the voice. A pause, and then it said, “He is the only Darkseer.”
Again, August’s question roared in my ears.“Has he even bothered to tell you the truth about what he is?”
Was this what Casimir had been hiding from me? My stomach churned, and I felt like I might be sick. The more I learned about him, the less I knew for certain.