He shrugged again. “Its magic is attuned to the reader. I did warn you to open it when you were alone,” he observed.
“Where did you get it?” I hazarded a guess. “In Ethervale?”
“Of course not,” he replied smoothly, but not before I noted the way the corner of his mouth twitched in discomfort. I knew him well enough by now to identify the smallest changes in his expression that hinted at evasion.
“Really?”
“It doesn’t matter where I got it, Farrow,” he replied, sounding irritated.
“Speaking of…” I went on, “the Book told me a little about Ethervale.” This was, strictly speaking, a lie. But it was a lie I hoped might persuade Casimir to reveal secrets I was burning to learn. “Aren’t the Drekavac worried that someone might accidentally sail into Ethervale’s territory?”
Based on the way his eyes narrowed, Casimir saw through my not-so-sly attempt to needle out the magical isle’s location, but he answered nonetheless.
“You’d be hard pressed to trespass on Ethervale territory by accident,” he said. “There are bloodwards and enchantments in place to conceal it from any curious seafarers, not to mention it’s nearly impossible to reach by land.”
“Nearly impossible?” I repeated, snagging onto the underlying implication.
Rolling his eyes at my eagerness, he explained, “The only way to access Ethervale by land is through the Lacunae Caves, and you know the stories as well as I do. The caves are deadly. Still, I suppose they might be preferable to bracing the tumultuous seas off the coast.”
My eyes went wide. “The Lacunae Caves lead to Ethervale?”
“I would seriously advise against whatever plots that devious mind of yours might be hatching,” he said with a frown, before turning to gaze into the dense canopy of the forest. The dark trees stretched like a shroud along the edge of the campus toward the cliffs.
With a sigh, he said, “Why do I feel that even the smallest slice of knowledge is dangerous in your hands?”
I huffed a laugh. “Is this your way of trying to justify keeping things from me?”
“Not at all. I’ll tell you what you want to know… if it’ll make you feel better.”
I did my best to conceal my surprise at his response. “Then answer my earlier question,” I demanded. “What does it mean that you’re a Darkseer?”
“I thought you’d have figured that out by now,” he replied, once again avoiding a direct response.
“A Darkseer can’t be any worse than a Siphoner,” I reasoned, recalling the words Devereaux had spoken into my mind. “You don’t possess Devereaux’s proclivities for compulsion.” I swallowed. “Or at least, you don’t seem to.”
“What you experienced—what I did to you in the Grotto…” He hesitated. “You already know how my glamour allows me to access people’s minds and sift through their memories,” he said, swallowing hard. “In addition, I can also alter people’s perceptions and void true sight, under the right circumstances. Some Daemons refer to Darkseers asLamacë Myslen. It roughly translates to ‘Mindbreakers.’”
I stared at him. “So, not only can you invade people’s memories, but now you’re telling me you can also manipulate them?” I said, not bothering to hide my disgust.
He nodded in answer and avoided meeting my gaze, but I wasn’t finished probing him.
“What does it mean you can void true sight?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “It means that, in addition to warping memories and manipulating emotions, I can also implant false visions. All of my powers require physical contact, of course. Without it, I can’t glamour a puppy.”
I mulled over this new information. TheBook of Ereboshad claimed that Casimir was a Darkseer. TheonlyDarkseer. Did that mean he was the only Daemon with the ability to penetrate minds and memories? But the word penetrate sounded misleadingly gentle compared to the way he’d blazed past my mental barriers.
I thought back to our training session in the Grotto, how, with ease and imperceptible grace, he’d altered my perceptions and blacked out reality, dredging up whatever memories best suited him. Even if his powers weren’t at their full potency, they were beyond harrowing. My shudder didn’t escape Casimir’s notice.
He contemplated my expression. “Does the way my glamour manifests bother you?”
I huffed a laugh, releasing some of the tension in my chest. “Does it bother you that I can taste lies? Neither of us can help what we are. We’re both just?—”
“Special?” he offered.
“Different,” I corrected. Another question rose to my lips, and I suddenly felt nervous. “I’ve been wondering, though, what do you think it means that I have the ability to taste lies?” I knew that, despite my abilities, I was undeniably and unequivocally human. Mortal. The clouds overhead seemed to darken, the black consuming the blue, and an icy sensation that had nothing to do with the bitter winter air slithered over my skin.
“I honestly don’t know,” he replied, fixing me with a look that raised the hairs on the back of my neck. He fidgeted with his lighter in one hand, the flame flickering briefly before it was snuffed out by the cold. Again, I took in the dark circles under his eyes, the anxious, restless energy in his body, like a coil wound far too tightly.