I shake my head mutely. I know what Verity is feeling right now. It’s the same sensation of jealousy, hatred, and confusion that I felt when I saw her kiss Sadal in my gardens. She was equally under his influence as I was under Erzur’s. My gaze drops to the vial, now neglected in the sand and I feel a wave of nausea.
I manage to turn away in time to avoid vomiting over Erzur’s shoes. I heave up everything I’ve ingested in the last day, including Erzur’s potion, spilling it onto the sand. She cries out in disgust and Thal stares at me, appalled.
His coldly furious gaze darts between Erzur and me and he shakes his head. "I once told Verity to trust you, to be patient with you. But you don't deserve her."
He stalks away. I drag my sleeve over my mouth, breathing hard. Tears swim in my vision from the force of my vomiting but I blink them back. I can feel Erzur watching me, wondering if I’m still under her influence. I try to summon the will to be angry, but I feel nothing. It’s too late now. Verity saw what she saw. And perhaps it was best that she witnessed my unwilling betrayal. Perhaps now she’ll hate me so completely it will be easier for her to let me go.
Erzur’s fingers drift over my shoulder, as if to draw me back, but I wrench away from her. Feeling tired in my bones, I stride away from my future wife. Shoulders hunched; I head deeper into the ruins. There’s still some daylight left and time to search. Erzur doesn’t follow me, and I’m grateful for that. Eyes glossy, I wander through the city until the sun begins to set. Only then do I realize I’ve been avoiding facing Verity. But night is coming, and I’ve found nothing.
I have nothing.
Chapter 16
Verity
I stare into the flickering flames just outside the building we’ve made camp in. They lick at the velvety darkness, pushing it back, but the darkness still pushes in at it. In the embers, I see Erzur twisted around Altair, her full lips over his. I’m cold despite the flames. A loud pop breaks the silence in the camp as one of the logs snaps and the fire settles. I draw my knees up to my chest, making myself small and shielded.
“Are you alright?” Serus asks, somewhere near my feet.
I nod even though my red-rimmed eyes give me away. “Fine,” I mumble.
Serus’s tail flicks out over my ankle, as if to comfort me. “I know your thoughts, Bloodbane. I’m unsure what to do. Do you require verbal assurances?”
“No,” I say, snorting mirthlessly. “Let’s just focus on something else.”
“I see,” Serus says. I see his amber eyes catch the firelight. “Such as?”
I sigh. “I would kill to be watching reality TV right now. Something mindlessly entertaining.”
“Yes, I’ve seen how much you enjoy such entertainment,” Serus agrees.
I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips at Serus’ attempts to be human. “I’m fine, Serus, really.”
There’s a sharp howl in the distance, cutting through the night air. I glance up from Serus and over the flat roofs of the surrounding buildings. A shiver trails down my spine, like a spider dancing over my skin. I grip my arms, fingers digging into my own flesh. Thal and Moritz are both on guard duty, stationed at separate ends of the camp. I search for Thal, and when our eyes meet, he gives me an encouraging wink. My shoulders relax and I try to convince myself there's nothing to be frightened of. Except whatever ghosts and spirits haunt this place.
I catch sight of a red cloak from the corner of my eyes as Cleo takes a seat beside me. I edge away unconsciously, still nervous to be around my supposed mother. She withdraws a small scroll where our notes on Altair’s curse have been scribbled. My tongue flicks out over my lips at the sight of my own handwriting, so desperate and eager to save a man who would betray me.
"I think we're close," Cleo murmurs. "I've spoken to the old witch, she says your magic is strong, more akin to the ancient kind. You may be the key to ending his curse permanently."
“What do you mean ‘ancient kind’?” I ask, brows furrowing in confusion.
“Old magic is the magic of names, familiars, scrying, and runes. New magic is blood and potions and spells,” Cleo explains, her blue eyes locked on mine. “I’ve seen what you do, and I believe the old crone is correct.”
I chew the inside of my cheek. “I use blood to make it work.”
“So, you need a little help.” Cleo shrugs.
“So you’re saying a spell or a potion won’t be able to break the curse Maaz put on him?” I ask, tilting my chin down.
Cleo nods. “It isn’t strong enough. Maaz liked the old magic too, though she was never very good at it.” Cleo smirks. “She thought it made her more appealing to Sadal.”
I grimace. I almost feel bad for Maaz; no one was as desperate as her for Sadal’s affection. “I don’t know how to create a rune, or how to employ anything beyond what I read in the Bloodbane text – and none of that was powerful enough to tackle something like this,” I say.
“We use symbols and intersect them to mean something greater. It’s like writing a sentence, or a word.” Cleo reaches for a piece of charcoal and scratches three intersecting symbols on the paper. “This is the rune to call someone to death’s hands.”
“To kill them,” I clarify, heart pounding. She nods. I feel almost sick. That was too fast, too simple to be so deadly.
“I can’t make the run to save Altair for you, but I can show you the steps,” Cleo says.
For the next hour, Cleo shows me different symbols and I jot down the ones I feel most drawn to. She says my intuition will be my guide, even
