In the Wake of the Wicked (Veridian Empire #1)

47. Rose

47

Rose

M y fingers trailed along the collection of glass vials on a bookshelf. Some were clear and empty, others tall and full of a dark liquid, and several more were rose or sage-tinted with crushed flower petals layering the bottom. All were marked with cream labels bearing Ga— Theodore’s hurried, cramped cursive. Bay laurel sprigs, eye of rowan, vervain, wishbone powder, snake skin shavings.

“Your note said my father had made some incredible discoveries with Alchemy,” I began after we’d spent several minutes in silence while he finished what he’d been working on. “Did any of that have to do with…blood magic?”

I tried to keep the unease out of my tone, but he caught it anyway. “Tell me, Rose. What has you so convinced that blood magic is such an atrocity?”

I craned my neck to peek at him, still seated in his chair with notes spread on the desk before him. “It’s dangerous,” I said. “Unnatural. People who use it end up ruining their lives. It’s too unpredictable and powerful.”

He stopped writing and leaned back, twisting his quill between gloved fingers. “And yet, it intrigues you, does it not? ”

I pressed my lips together, refusing to give voice to that part of my mind.

With a knowing look, he continued. “Unpredictable and powerful, yes. But only when not controlled properly. Many people have used it incorrectly and ruined their lives, as you say. But have lives not been ruined even when using magic in an orthodox manner?” He raised an eyebrow. “The type of magic doesn’t necessarily matter. It can all be dangerous. It depends on the wielder, you see.”

“But Alchemy is based in the earth around us,” I argued, repeating what I’d heard others say in Feywood. “We defile that by taking blood or—or bones or skin”—I gestured to some of the glass vials beside me—“against something’s will instead of working with nature to give us its power.”

Theodore steepled his hands in front of him. “I don’t disagree with you. Forcefully taking anything and bending it to your whims is dangerous. But that is not the foundation of blood magic.” He stood and began pacing. “Blood magic is, in its base meaning, the use of power found within that which bears life . How is that unnatural? How is the blood that runs through our veins unnatural? It’s innately the most natural power we possess.

“The other five provinces use magic that flows within them. They don’t require a conduit or outside force to conjure shadows or light or illusions or whatever it may be.” His hands moved animatedly as he spoke. “This fact was what sparked your father’s curiosity so many years ago. Why is our magic type the only one expected to source power outside of ourselves? Why should we be any different, Hamilton wondered?”

I stared at him, transfixed by his passion and conviction, remembering the same thoughts that had captured my mind days ago when Callum confronted me in the great hall. His spiteful words echoed all around me, lighting a fire beneath my skin.

“You think you’re so clever with your little plants and potions. But you’re nothing without them, are you, Feywood?”

“People get carried away and lose themselves, taking their magic too far or stealing power that is not theirs to wield,” Theodore explained. “ That is where the danger lies. Harming others, using force or violence, destroying nature. But”—he pulled the glove from his left hand finger by finger, then grabbed a letter opener from his desk—“when given willingly …it is magic unlike anything you have seen.” My eyes widened at his exposed hand, which was riddled with dozens of thin, white scars.

In his next breath, he pricked the tip of his forefinger and muttered, “Vellus . ”

Instantly, he disappeared.

But it wasn’t just him .

Every single item in the chamber vanished into nothingness. Every book, every charm, the desk, the chair, bookshelves, all of it , save for the lit sconces on the walls.

Gone.

It wasn’t a mere invisibility spell like I’d cast hundreds of times. This was…unbelievable. Unthinkable.

Lips parting, I breathed, “How did you?—”

His voice materialized behind me. “It is as natural as drawing breath. It is our birthright .”

In the blink of an eye, the chamber went dark, the sconces snuffed out. “You can do it, too, Rose,” he whispered in my ear.

Suddenly, my dagger appeared in my open hand, the feel of cold steel burning my palm.

Was it truly possible? To practice Alchemy with nothing but our blood? No more bags and pouches, no more relying on what herbs were in my pocket or if I would have enough time to arm myself before it was too late. No more sickly taste of dried leaves on my tongue or fear of running out of charms.

No more tricks . No more weaker magic .

What was wrong with that? Theodore was right—as long as one didn’t go too far, as long as they didn’t mess with the balance of nature, this was no different than what Rissa did when she shifted, or Lark when she wielded her shadows.

I raised the dagger, my hand trembling so hard in the dark that I couldn’t see where I was aiming. Invisible, wrinkled fingers clasped around my wrist, guiding me.

My breath caught as the blade inched closer to my skin, the air around us stretched tight with expectation. It was like my blood knew what was happening; my pulse pounded in every part of me, drawing the dagger nearer. Calling for it. Pleading.

The sharp tip bit into the pad of my thumb, and I gasped at the sting. Without thinking, without waiting, I whispered, “ Incendar .”

Half of me believed it wouldn’t work. That Theodore was playing an elaborate prank, and I would look like a fool, chanting spells into nothingness.

But in my heart, I knew it was real.

My body erupted and flooded with power. While casting normally felt like a tightening in my chest, this felt like liberation . I was weightless yet full of strength at the same time, my magic vibrating and flowing within me, blending into my essence until I couldn’t separate it from my very being. It was as if I had never truly breathed until this moment.

I’d cast the fire spell intending to create a small flame at my fingertip to light the dark space before me. But the moment the word left my lips, the entire room lit with a golden glow.

My mouth dropped open. Theodore must have banished his invisibility spell, for all the items were back in their place, and each candle in the chamber had ignited. Dozens of tapers lining the shelves and floor, every sconce on the stone walls, the candelabras above our heads. They flared to life with fervor, flickering in time to the thumping of my heart.

I met Theodore’s gaze, his eyes mirroring the wonder and energy likely gleaming in my own.

“I did it,” I breathed.

“And how do you feel?” he asked, bringing a handkerchief from his pants pocket and wiping the small trickle of blood from my thumb.

I glanced around the chamber again, taking in the light, reveling in the power still racing through me. With a deep breath, I closed my eyes, and a smile curved the ends of my lips.

This was what it was supposed to be. Nothing separating me from my magic, nothing holding me back from what I was meant for. Alchemy in its purest, most natural form.

“Free,” I finally said, locking eyes with him once more. “I feel free.”

Theodore smiled, and a spear shot through my chest. He looked so much like the father I remembered from my childhood. The father I’d lost.

But maybe…maybe I hadn’t lost him completely. Maybe I could find him here, in a dark, invisible chamber, with the man I’d spent my life despising.

“Can I show you something?” he asked. I nodded, and he led me to a tall book stand in the corner of the room. It was made of dark wood, with beautiful etchings of vines spiraling up its length. Atop sat an old leather book, the pages weathered and frayed on the edges.

Theodore carefully set his hand on the open page. “This was your father’s Grimoire, Rose.”

I blinked in surprise. “But I already have his Grimoire back home. My aunt and uncle gave it to me when I turned sixteen.”

“That must be one he created after he and I parted ways. This ”—he gestured to the book—“was his first. It contains his notes on blood magic and the spells and potions we crafted. And it’s exceptionally detailed,” he added with a hint of a smile. “Hamilton was a thorough researcher, whereas I was a bit impatient. Always wanting to act. He would often have a theory and wanted to take time to investigate it, but I grew restless, eager to put it to the test.

“Once, we were attempting to spell our house cat to be able to speak to us. I was a tad ambitious and ended up casting on every animal in a half mile radius from our home.” He chuckled lightly, a sound I’d never heard from him. “You should have seen the two of us. Me, desperately running from a horde of wild creatures, and Hamilton racing through his notes to fix my mistake.”

I grinned at his story, trying to picture the two young men and their adventures. My eyes lingered on the Grimoire, my fingers itching to explore its pages. To feel this new connection to my father.

Theodore’s gaze flickered from me to the book. “Go on,” he encouraged.

I swallowed and took a step toward the stand, reaching out a hand to brush against the old pages. “Can I read it?”

His hand covered mine. “Rose, you can have it. It’s yours by right.”

My attention snapped to him. “What?”

When he closed the Grimoire, a small cloud of dust puffed in the air. He clasped the book shut with a leather strap, his fingers skating across the etchings of the moon and series of constellations on the front.

“Treat it well,” he said, placing it in my open arms.

A rush of emotion flooded me as I stared at the cover. The heaviness of the leather tome sat in my heart like a weight, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It wasn’t burdensome. It filled me. My chest expanded as I drew a deep breath, something settling inside.

Another missing piece finding its way home.