Page 60 of Shattered Jewel

“What is it?” he asks, reaching over my shoulder to take the book from my hands. His fingers briefly brush against mine as he pulls away with Jonquil’s logbook—and photo.

“Hey—” I grab for the photo without thinking.

Kaspian deftly moves it out of my reach, his one-handed limitation not affecting him at all. Rather, he inclines his head at the newly raised vantage point of the photo and muses, “You’ve been holding out on us, beastie.”

I snatch the photograph back from Kaspian’s by jumping for it, my fingers crumpling its fragile edges. “Yes, he’s the spitting image of my brother, but that doesn’t have anything to do with our current issues.”

His expression shifts to one of keen interest, zeroing in on the snapshot that wavers in my unsteady hand. “Did you always know of this ancestor?”

“No,” I admit, smoothing out the creases I created. “But the resemblance is uncanny, so we must be related. This manor has been in our family for centuries. I think it was built for the founding Wraithwoods, but his last name is Jonquil, not Wraithwood, and—” I shake my head. “Like I said, finding out who he is and how he relates to us isn’t a priority.”

Kaspian’s attention drifts from the photograph to me, a trace of understanding sparking in their emerald depths. “How do you propose we discover who he is?”

I give him the once-over, certain that the sympathy I saw in those crushing eyes of his was a trick. “Nothing. Not until we solve Maverick’s treasure hunt first.”

At his uncomfortable silence, coupled with his piercing focus, I relent. “Fine, I’ll start by asking Gram about it when I next see her.”

Kaspian nods, his expression returning to his usual apathy before laying the logbook on the desk so he can sift through the pages, studying with rapid intensity.

I lean forward, my cheek nearly brushing his as I try to decipher the cramped, elegant script and linear and circular symbols. I inhale his clean, aftershave and aged whiskey scent and nearly get drunk off it.

I ask tightly, “What was he logging?”

Kaspian’s finger stills on a page, his body tensing near mine. “You may want to know more about him sooner than you think. This man was practicing in the occult.”

Goose bumps creep over my overheated skin under my coat. “What?”

“These are the same symbols the Sovereigns use in their rituals. Not the ones you saw today, but others.”

My mouth goes dry. I push off the desk. Tear off my coat to help me breathe. “No. No.”

Kaspian sighs, his fingers tapping idly on the desk. “Nothing is impossible when it comes to the Court.”

I back away until my spine meets the icy stone wall, the biting cold of it searing through my clothing. My heart pounds violently against my ribs as I grapple with Kaspian’s words. My world is spinning, my breath coming in shallow gasps. “I’ve just been flung headfirst into a nightmare, and I don’t know how to wake up, Kaspian.”

My vision splits in two: the first is of Kaspian, his eyes steady on me, a rock against the tumultuous storm in my mind. He’s there, an arm’s length away, ready to catch me should I fall apart.

And the second is reality: Kaspian’s face smoothing into his unfeeling stone and his voice following suit.

“The Cimmerian Court has existed for centuries,” he explains, his voice as close to an eye roll as it can get. “No doubt your Jonquil was a part of it. Really, beastie, how are you surprised? Are you so naive that it never occurred to you Maverick’s involvement is because of his heritage? Don’t be so foolish.”

“Stop it. You’re being cruel.”

“You mistake bluntness for cruelty,” Kaspian counters, his voice dripping with annoyance. “You think I enjoy this? Do you think I want to be stuck in this shitty old office with you, and before that stuck in a godforsaken library with you, and before that shot by your fucking mom? All my problems at the moment are centered around you.”

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” I snap, my hands shaking as I dig my nails into my palms. “This type of violence has existed in your life for years. You’ve trained for it, and I’m positive you crave it as soon as you crack your eyes open in the morning. That’s if you even sleep, you fucking demon. You basically live on scorched earth. I was thrust onto it.”

“We all have our crosses to bear. Mine was being birthed into the Valenti family. Yours is being a Wraithwood.”

I snarl at his relentless tone, my temper flaring hot and deadly. “It’s not that simple. You act as if you’re the only one who suffers in this situation.”

Kaspian’s lips rise into an empty smirk. He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out an object glinting in the lamplight—a large silver locket that looks centuries old, with a broken ruby in the center.

I leap away from the wall. “The amulet—you have it?”

I make a move for it, but Kaspian is faster. He palms it before my back leaves the stone, the ruby’s glimmer from the lamplight dying in his clenched hand. His eyes slide from his fist to me with a mocking slant.

“Your necklace was probably found by Maverick here, in this room,” he says. “The silver has small symbols etched on its inner surface matching the ones written by Jonquil in this logbook. Your innocent Mavvy was quite the explorer.”

---