Page 72 of Petals for Vicious Secrets

The navy ink vanished from her skin, but her smile lingered for a while longer.

From what Lenna had seen while being in her room, she still had the very basic golden sparks that she used to play with before her Fifth Ceremony. Which probably meant she also could send ink. The perks Ciaran had referred to. Not actual useful powers, but some fancy party tricks. So she sent her golden ink to the silver-eyed man.

She opened the doors of the main chambers of the Ruler of the North House and found her parents in a meeting with many members of the Northern Elite, just as a servant had informed her a few minutes ago.

“Not so sorry to interrupt,” Lenna said, tilting her head to the side with a smile.

Veronica Brachyan stood up, something like relief in her eyes. Jasper Brachyan looked at her as he said, “We shall postpone our reunion.” The members of the Elite left the room without asking questions, some gathering the papers and items spread on the wide table.

The last Elite member closed the door behind him, and Jasper, Veronica and Lenna didn’t move.

“Nothing like some awkwardness in your own home,” Lenna said. “Shocked to see I didn’t bleed to death after the five Lawful Stabs? Or that I actually care to say hi after none of you bat an eyelid when the fucking Organ Mandor was stabbing me in your fucking faces?”

“Watch that mouth, Lenna Brachyan,” her father warned.

“I don’t need to watch anything anymore, actually. Lucky you, I pissed the Organ Mandor so much that he striped the heirloom from my blood and passed it to dear Ayla. Lucky us, Thyria didn’t break in half because apparently our blood is similar enough to cope with it. Lucky me, I won’t have to play your political bullshit games any longer.”

“You never behaved like the heir of this House should,” her father said, his lips tight in a line.

“We love you, Lenna,” her mother said, and Lenna almost choked with laughter.

“What a funny fucking way to show your love,” she said, grinning. “I came home to seek some sort of emotional shelter. So naïve of me, I know. But so revealing, to realize I have lost nothing here. Not anymore. I won’t be around much longer. Don’t miss me too much.” She blew a kiss in the air and left the room.

She hadn’t mentioned that she was not a panom anymore, but she didn’t need their pity or their shame. It was her own fucking problem. No one else’s.

46

Hope

The view of Corentre across the windows was breathtaking. That the wall covering a whole side of the dark living room Ciaran had moured them to was fully made of glass instead of bricks or wood didn’t make it easier to stop staring outside.

The red-tinged moon was very visible, but its red reflection on top of the small, very formed white clouds hovering over the roofs of many low buildings was beautiful. Small flickering lights illuminated the streets, converging on the very center of the city.

The sight of an extraordinarily big crystal dome crowned the middle of the impressive palace that all the flickering lights seemed to lead to. The stars reflected on its radiant cupola, as if all the light on this planet and above led to the same place. Hope inhaled at the magnificence of the palace and how small and insignificant it made her feel.

Because she knew what that place was. She had already been in the throne room of the Organ House, and it had ended catastrophically. And she also knew who was inside.

Nina muttered something about coming back soon and her steps grew distant before a door closed somewhere in the house. Hope didn’t need to hear him to know she wasn’t alone.

“How do I kill him?” she asked, staring at the white jeweled walls of the palace. The hatred tasted bitter in her words.

Ciaran walked towards the window, leaning his back on it. Hope blinked, unable to decide if she would ever rely on a piece of glass to keep her alive with such ease and lack of worry. The look on his face looked like something between respect and interest, but she doubted it was because of the window.

“No human being will ever be able to kill the Organ Mandor,” Ciaran said, looking at her. She couldn’t help but notice he had not only a metal ring on his bottom lip but also a few on top of his ear, barely visible underneath the dark hair. “Can I have your hand?”

Hope hesitated for only half a second, before extending her hurt hand to him, her healthier hand touching the hilt of a blade with her fingertips. He held the offered hand, not missing the movement of the other one.

“Just because Nina trusts you, it doesn’t mean I do.”

“I could have killed you last night if I wanted to. I could have killed you this morning when you were asleep. I could kill you now,” Ciaran said, and Hope side-smiled at how bold he was for believing his magic was faster than her blades. At this short distance, she had the advantage, hence why she had deemed safe to give him a hand. He seemed to read the I’d-love-to-see-you-try in her face, and she could have sworn a hint of amusement glittered in his eyes before he added, “But I don’t have a single reason to do so. I’m not your enemy.”

“Why do you want my hand?”

“To tell you how to kill him.” Ciaran closed his metallic hand and the bandage on top of hers vanished, revealing the deep cut that had worsened so much after digging the grave. At least her skin was clean now. He didn’t flinch as he said, “I need some drops of your blood.”

“My blood is in high demand as of late,” Hope sighed. “Help yourself.” If he could truly tell her anything of use, she would definitely take it.

Ciaran’s metallic hand drew a small line in the air above Hope’s hand. She held in a gasp as the scab reopened for the Fifth knew which time.

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