Page 107 of Shattered Jewel

I don’t know what’s more galling: the fact that I so easily said boyfriends, or that my life now includes violence and bloodshed.

Despite the gravity of our conversation, Clover laughs, and I share in it.

We both sober as we return to the books splayed in front of us.

“These names,” Clover says, “Were part of Sarah’s underground network. These people helped her with her cause. That’s why I’m shocked to learn the Nightshades betrayed her. I always knew Cav was a manipulative bastard, but to keep his family’s betrayal a secret from us the entire time he helped to find the treasure…”

I’m unable to explain Cav’s motives, since I’m not quite sure of them myself.

I say, “His reasons are valid in his mind. His ancestors’ destruction over the centuries and his solid belief that Sarah had something to do with it—Cav’s poisoned. They’ve tortured him down to the marrow of his bones. I’m working like hell to rid him of it, because I know who he is inside. He’s not callous and evil.”

I trail off, swallowing the lump that’s formed in my throat, thinking about Cav. The pain he’s endured, the horrors he’s witnessed, are a vital part of him now. It makes him dangerous, unpredictable. But beneath that hardened exterior is a man who bears the weight of his family’s sins. A man I’ve come to deeply care for despite what it could cost me.

Clover seems to read my thoughts, her eyes softening. “That’s a heavy burden to carry for someone else, Elara.”

“Isn’t it what we’re doing here?” I counter with a forced smile. “Carrying the burden of our ancestors’ sins so we can set things right?”

She nods slowly, an appreciative smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You’re a stronger woman than I gave you credit for.”

My cheeks heat at her praise, but I quickly brush it off. The Elara I wanted to be, the one I molded myself into the minute I step foot on TFU campus, doesn’t exist anymore, no matter how much I’d like to get that popular, social, ignorant girl back. “Turns out, I’m not just a pretty face.”

“But why these men?” Clover asks abruptly. “Why Wilder, Cav, Kaspian, and Axe? Have you thought about why they were brought into the Cimmerian Court?”

“They’re legacies,” I supply. “Initiated because of their family lineage, dating all the way back to?—”

“Oh my God.” Clover gasps and turns the logbook of names clockwise. Her eyes flick up and down rapidly as she reads them over. “I’d thought the flowers were all code-names Sarah used to protect her agents. Nightshade and Jonquil weren’t disguised, for reasons I’ve yet to figure out. But the others … do you think some of these flowers could be your boyfriends’ families?”

“Boyfriends,” I echo, the word still sitting clumsily on my tongue. “That’s a possibility...”

“These men aren’t just legacies,” Clover interjects, flipping through the pages with a fervor. “They could also be descendants of Sarah’s allies.”

The truth crashes over me, leaving me cold and shaken. If Clover’s right, then that means...

“Then it isn’t just me. They’re all linked to Sarah, too.”

A pang of fear settles in my heart as I consider what this could mean for us — for Cav, Kaspian, Wilder, and Axe. Our relationships are complex enough as it is, without the added pressure of a shared destiny.

“We need to find out for certain,” Clover announces, lowering and getting comfortable on her desk chair. “Same with your lineage. Sarah’s daughter was young, but not so young she couldn’t have had a baby. I always had a feeling the Anderton lore went a lot deeper. There’s nothing better than a good, witchy mystery…”

As Clover begins to delve into the historical records that clutter her desk, I look down, towards the broken Heart tangled in its chains. The rippling fire gives it a sinister pulse, like it’s imbued with centuries of blood.

I picture the faces of the men I’ve come to adore. Their peculiar smiles, their eyes in various stages of bleakness. They were taken in by the Court so young, their humanity stripped bare until glorious, honed weapons took their place.

Cav, with his eerie handsomeness and uncut sapphire eyes that see too much, yet reveal so little. Kaspian, whose beauty almost hurts to look at, and whose mind is equal parts supernova and black hole. Wilder, the embodiment of raw power and bottled rage, who seems untamed, yet harbors a gentleness that touches my very soul; and Axe, his scars echoing his tumultuous past—cruel, blurred, and troubled.

Each name represents a life lived under the burden of past sins, profound secrets, and undeniable attraction.

Each name is now inexorably linked with mine.

Chapter 27

Elara

Wilder drops me off at Farrow Manor after a solemn, quiet ride in his car.

When I left Clover’s room and returned to him, he must’ve seen something on my face, because he didn’t drag me out of the Vultures’ home and insist I tell him everything. I was expecting him to go so far as to lock all the doors in the car and refuse to let me out until I gave up every reason why I wanted to meet and talk with Clover.

Wilder did none of those things.

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