Page 64 of Winds of Ruin
Lark’s eyes widened in realization. “The mirror…” she mused. “And a sleep curse.”
“Keep going,” I demanded with an impatient wave of my hand, moving to her side to look over her shoulder.
Lark took a deep breath, continuing to read, pace quickening.
“‘Only the Prince knew how to wake her. A kiss to the stone, then to the lips from her truest of heart would break the spell.’”
Flipping the page quickly, Lark read, “‘But the Princess’ choice of confidant was a mistake. Needing money to feed her family, the maid stole the valuable stone and left a counterfeit in the tomb.’” My hand shook, and I stared at the rise and fall of Emmerick’s chest.
A mirror, a tomb, a stone. A memory of Fen’s voice echoing through a cave. “It seems to be about a sleeping Princess.”
“There’s a drawing of the stone.” Lark gasped and lifted the book up to me. “And Sources! Aunt El, I know where I’ve seen this before.”
Chapter 28
Larkspur
This time of year, silvery peaks topped the mountains. The glistening of ice contrasted so wonderfully with the pink blossoms of the everplums at Lamoreaux, and snow clung to the boughs of trees around us.
With the storybook in a heavy leather bag at my hip, I found Dritan trimming back the dead branches of the hedges in front of the estate, preparing for spring.
Sweat beaded off his brow despite the frigid temperatures. Aunt El paid him enough to put himself through an apprenticeship with a blacksmith in Helos; he’d learned on this property that he enjoyed working with his hands. Now he spent half his time at the forge and the other half fighting shrubbery. My aunt still lingered at the bottom of the hill, unsaddling and caring for Mayra.
My hands shook as they smoothed over the carcanet. Anticipation built in my stomach; it felt like a flutter that I couldn’t get rid of whenever I drew near my soon-to-be husband.
Dritan wrestled a thick branch, grunting and straining to close the sheers.
“Is that bush besting you, my betrothed?”I whispered into his mind, and he jumped.
I huffed a laugh, watching him turn to find me; when he did, the corners of his mouth pulled up. If we weren’t in broad daylight, and within eyesight of Aunt El, he’d have kissed me. I could feel his desire. The thought counted.
“Princess,” he said in greeting, but the sultry weight of the title made that fluttering sensation travel lower in my stomach. “I didn’t expect you today. Were you in Luz visiting the Faulkers? How is Angeline?”
I’d tried to convince Dritan to come with me to the cottage.
“Not today. Angie’s condition has worsened overnight. Leo wanted privacy after Aunt Wyeth checked in yesterday. The infection has spread, and the healers don’t know if they can control it.”
“That’s awful.” He frowned and set the sheers down, wiping his forehead with the bottom of his tunic. “How is your Aunt El taking it?” he whispered.
“Day by day. That’s how she handles matters that she wants to avoid. Since Angie’s health took a downturn, she won’t visit.” I paused, cautiously eyeing Dritan. “You are sure you don’t want to speak with Leo? I’m certain he would love to meet you.”
His frown deepened. Sadness leaked from him, and I tried to ignore the taste of bitter remorse.
With so little proof of his lineage, Dritan feared he would not be accepted or, worse, would be deemed a liar. He’d skirted meeting his grandparents whenever they’d visited Lamoreaux.
“There is nothing I can do or say to make matters easier for him.” He seared me with a knowing gaze. I wouldn’t press him. He understood that, but he also knew that I disagreed.
The Faulkers’ love ran thicker than blood. Leo would want to know him—Angeline would too.
I cleared my throat and pulled my thick fleece coat tighter. “We found something about the Sethe curse.”
His expression brightened, and I couldn’t help but match his smile. I had plenty who supported me, plenty who loved me, but Dritan was the only person I felt truly at home with.
I wouldn’t hear my parents’ thoughts on the matter until they had no choice but to accept him. That dusty old book of prophecies had made enough decisions on my behalf. This choice would be mine.
The tinny sound of water filling a metal bucket echoed from down the hill.
Dritan placed his fists on his hips to survey his work. “Well… are you going to tell me or keep me waiting in suspense?”
