A Crown of Cursed Hearts (Kingdom of Blighted Thorns #3)

41. Tempest

41

TEMPEST

N o. Never again. Never now.

Pinned to the chair by torturous vines, I glared up at High Advisor Adwarin. He gasped, and his eyelids fluttered before sliding closed as he kept his thumb pressed against my forehead. He yanked on my power, at what made me who I was and who I would one day be.

He wanted to steal my future.

This, I would not allow.

I sucked power up from my well, from that place far below, where light never reached.

Where something waited.

Terror? Evil?

No.

It was me .

I gathered it up and bunched it together, adding to it while he continued to suck away at the top of my well, guzzling it down like a beast at the throat of its prey.

His eyes opened, meeting mine, and his smile was so treacherous, it made everything inside me quake.

“No,” I whispered, then louder. “No.” I didn’t shout. There was no need to, because . . .

. . . I was the one in control here.

A touch of fear cratered his face, and his eyes blazed with the realization of what I’d just discovered.

“No more,” I said. “Nevermore.”

He reeled away from me, his arms flinging upward, a bleat of terror erupting from his throat.

I hurtled my power at him, and it scorched across the floor in white-hot fury.

Tracking him.

Finding him.

His guttural cry jerked out of him as my power sliced up the front of his body. When it reached his chest, it turned inward, gouging all the way through to his spine. I swore I heard it crackle as he toppled backward, dead before he hit the floor.

“Release me,” I snarled, and the vines retreated, snapping away and cowering as they slithered back into the tile by my feet. They whimpered apologies as if commanded by a master. With a feral grin, I rose and sedately walked over to stand over the high advisor’s carcass.

“Come now,” I whispered. “Don’t you have something to say about what I just did?” I cocked my head as if listening, but he was past speaking or harming anyone else again. My shrill laugh rang out until I banked it. Stunned it. “I didn’t think so.”

One blast of power turned him to a pile of ashes .

I did not need to make a dragon do something like that for me.

I pivoted and strode across the room and up to Ivenrail’s cracked-open bedroom door. My hand did not shake as I eased the panel open, and my legs didn’t quiver as I stepped inside and closed the door gently behind me.

At my command, a cloth sack appeared in my hand.

I turned left and quickly made my way around the darkened room. I didn’t generate light, because none was needed. I knew what I’d come for, and I took it.

I gently placed the twisted, thorn-adorned crown inside my bag. No more would he smirk as he stared at something belonging to Lydel.

The fairy still twitched where she’d been pinned to the wax, and with a gentle tug, I drew out the tiny spear, tossing it aside. I closed my eyes and held my hand over her as she lay there, stunned and gasping for breath.

A burst of my power healed her.

She rose to her feet, barely taller than my index finger, and she looked up at me in wonder.

Blessed, she whispered in my mind. I will not forget. Look, and you will finally see. We all perch on the cusp and can fall either way. I know you will choose wisely when you, too, stand on the edge of the blade.

A blink, and she disappeared.

I placed the whispering shards of broken mirror inside my bag. I’d decide what to do with them later.

On to the tapestry. Pausing, I stared at it—memorized it—though I wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t part of the deal I’d made with the Liege. But then, neither were the things I’d already taken and freed. The king and queen’s gazes met mine, and I sunk into their crystal-studded eyes, looking back and forth between them, hoping they could tell me everything I needed to know. But when wind rustled through my mind, growing in volume to howl in terror, I jerked myself back and wrenched my gaze away from them. I sensed whatever they needed could not be delivered now, if ever.

As I rounded the bed, I didn’t peer past the heavy drapes clinging to the four posts and draping partway across each side.

There’s nothing in that bed for you, someone whispered in my mind.

Who is this? I asked, but only silence answered.

I stopped in front of the finger bones spiking up inside each of the wooden segments. Like Triisa had promised, it appeared that all nine remained. Those I’d taken had guided me onto new paths, and there was no returning them now.

With a heavy swallow, I left them. Triisa also told me not to take more, and they weren’t part of my plan.

A clear urn sat on the floor, capped with a broad, simple cork. Since I’d missed it the last time I was here, I stooped down to study it, finding it nearly full of small round discs. I leaned closer, squinting in the dim light, trying to see what nestled inside.

Bone coins. Thousands of them piled within the urn as if Ivenrail collected these trophies as well.

Not interested in touching them, I straightened and continued around the room.

The globes hung in the corner, lightly swaying as if the pulsations of the hearts inside each generated enough motion to make them twitch. A grisly display, they were my main reason for coming here.

Bring me the hearts, the Liege had said. Swear you will, and I’ll give you the collar.

I would’ve done anything for that collar, and he knew it.

With infinite care, I unhooked each globe, dangling them from their string as I carefully lowered them one by one into my bag. The last one clinked when it touched the others, and the sharp tinkle resounded in the room.

I shuddered, my heart slamming against the bony wall of my ribs.

“Come to visit, have you?” someone croaked behind me.

Spinning, I gaped as Ivenrail uncoiled himself from his bedding like a serpent slithering from its nest, its head arching back, and its rapturous, lulling gaze locked on mine. Just like a serpent, he would jerk back to strike.

A flick of his finger froze me in place.

I couldn’t breathe.

I could barely think.

My heart thudded once.

And then no more.