Page 87 of The Incendiary

TWENTY-THREE

ARYELLA

Given how much truth I kept from you, and for how long I kept it, this advice is hypocritical for me to give. But the answers you deserve matter most, so it’s advice I implore you to follow. Don’t let anyone leave you in the dark. Ask questions.

Keep asking them until you get what you need.

Trust your gut.

And always assume your uncle is hiding something.

—FROM THE BUTCHER OF NYRIDA’S LAST KNOWN LETTERS TO QUEEN ARYELLA I

I still hadn’t found an opportunity to break into Elias’s quarters and search for the key to that secret room. I wasn’t positive it was hidden there, but it felt like the best place to start. As the person in charge, the key to any restricted information about dark magic that this fortress contained would be in his possession.

If I had to, I would find another, riskier time to break into his quarters, consequences be damned. I was starting to consider using other methods of coercion. I could pretend to take him up on his “offer,” find a way to get what I needed, then get out again. I really didn’t want to play that game, but I would if it helped end the blood oath.

Today, there was another issue I could no longer ignore. I didn’t want to talk to Simeon, but my most recent nightmare had me shoving some of that reluctance aside. In the letters Gavin left, he told me to assume Simeon was always hiding something. There was so much I didn’t know. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that the nightmare—that voice, those hands, the castle—had something to do with the source of our magic.

Some answers were overdue. I had already waited too long. I still planned on making him answer for himself face-to-face. For now, I could hide behind this identity, but I had to prepare myself for when my ruse ended.

Before Mavic and Mina left for supper, I told them my stomach hurt and I wasn’t going to eat. I had hoarded some rolls and jerky from the mess hall during lunchtime, knowing this was my plan. I was barely hungry, but even four months after sending Gavin away, his voice still reminded me to eat. I couldn’t let myself become weak again like he’d found me in Warrich.

While eating, I thought of all the questions I needed to ask Simeon. The list was endless. I would have to prioritize what I needed to know over what I wanted to know and doubted he would be truthful either way.

After swallowing my last bite of bread, I decided it was time.

“I know you’re watching me somehow, Uncle,” I said aloud to the room. My voice sounded louder, even over my pulse pounding in my ears. I glanced around and wondered what I looked like to him. He was probably sitting at a table or desk, observing me in some sort of glass ball. “Well, I have questions, so send me one of your little notes if that’s how you’d like to do this.”

A piece of parchment roughly the size of my palm materialized on the bed beside me.

Ask away.

I ground my teeth together. Even though I asked, the phrase was grating. Sure, ask away so he could decide what secrets to continue to keep.

What magic is this you’re using?

I watched the note disappear. When it returned, I knew his words would be carefully crafted to make me believe what he wanted. I began to read the next note before it fully materialized.

The magic Molochai and I discovered four hundred years ago is a system of knowledge. Of spells and curses.

I flinched. Curses, like the one I was told killed Christabel.

Where are the spells?

His reply came faster this time.

There is a book. A grimoire. Two copies. Molochai and I transcribed them ourselves after discovering our power. I have one. He has the other. Only our families can read it.

I scribbled back, Transcribed from where?

He didn’t answer, so I tried something else.

Molochai has more than the grimoire. He has shadows.

I remembered them under my skin, in my veins, poisoning my blood, violating me with incomparable agony.

That is something else, Simeon wrote. It is corrupt. I will not speak of it here.