Page 63 of Winds of Ruin
The damned woman never missed an opportunity to get the first strike. She launched at me. We shared Source magic, so we could not lethally wound one another with Wind alone. The sword she swung at my head would deliver that blow, though.
I raised both blades, blocking her swing, and then kicked her away, flipping backward to rise. “Sources, Cass. Care to tell me when we are beginning?”
“A changing wind gives no warning. You’re forgetting it is your tool. Use it or lose... again,” she taunted. Cass’ mousy-brown hair caught a gale of wind that she spun around herself to wield. She would try to knock me down—most times, she succeeded.
As the gust barreled toward me, I parried it with a barrier of my own, and our winds twisted together, kicking up dead leaves and icy slush in a twirl between us.
“There you go!” she shouted before launching in for her next strike.
For the rest of the afternoon, I narrowly avoided getting my ass beaten.
“I’d like to explore the eastern coastline tomorrow,” I panted out. “There’s a ruin of an old village south of Laome.”
Cass nodded, though her slackened posture told me she was growing tired of the fruitless searches. No evidence pointed towhere the third relic lay. No signs led to a way to break the Sethe curse either. The wind guided me nowhere.
Angeline was growing more ill.
What if Emmerick lost her without ever getting to say goodbye? Leo’s hope waned each day that the fever refused to break.
“You don’t need to come along. I can ask Fen,” I said with a wave of my hand.
“No, no, I’ll be there. Someone’s got to make sure you don’t get yourself killed.”
I huffed a laugh, and we fought on.
My limbs were fatigued by the time I pulled the whistle out from beneath my sweaty tunic. The same chain used to hold a key that I tried my hardest not to think about.
Chapter 27
Elsedora
He lay too still.
Averting my gaze from Emmerick, I took to dusting the small wooden figures on the mantel. Leo had carved them when Emmerick was a boy—a wolf, a bear, a hunter, a rabbit. The fire roared, warming my toes and drying my socks. I’d placed my wet boots by the flame.
Lark’s voice sweetened the air; it helped to have her here with me when I visited.
“‘Once upon a time, in the Kingdom of Phynx, a Princess loved a Prince. When her beloved arrived at the castle gates, he wore a proposal on his tongue and the armor of her enemies,’” she read before flipping a page.
I hadn’t heard this one before; she must have found a new volume. The romances were her favorite. Emmerick’s bleeding heart would likely enjoy them, too, if he could hear her.
After lining up the figurines, I moved on to the windowsill, gazing out into the Luz courtyard. Carts rolled in with wood and grain.
“‘They continued their courtship and spoke through an enchanted mirror, concealing their love from the realms that wished them apart.’”
The story piqued my attention.
A mirror?
“‘The Princess cast a curse upon herself—to sleep so soundly that even the healers would think her dead. All curses required a bargain; this one demanded a timeline. She would need to be roused within a fortnight or risk eternal sleep.’”
Every muscle in my body tensed. Sensing it, Lark glanced up over the book.
“What story is this?” I asked her.
She turned back to the start. “It is just called,The Curse of a Phynnic Princess.Most of these fables don’t have titles—they’re too old.”
My hand covered my trembling lip.
