Page 99 of A Sun Scorched Bloom

Lea took a deep breath and opened her hands, allowing the witch to continue.

"The moonflower's magic was stolen with the death of your grandmother."

"Queen Emmaline," Lea breathed, the memory of her vision flashing through her mind. The king had taken her blood, and as the moonflowers had dropped into the growing puddle beneath her, they had turned black and disintegrated, just as they did every time she grew them.

"Yes. Her blood was used to create the Lonely Death. It is a funny name, don’t you think?"

"I don’t think there is anything funny about the slaughter of innocents." Lea’s shadows reached toward Eudora, itching to wring her neck.

Eudora waved her hand in the air as if wafting away smoke. "But you see, that is where the humor lies. Those who die of the Lonely Death, are notdead. Not until the king steals their magic, sucks out their very souls, taking what he wants and discarding the rest."

"What do you mean? They are gone. All of them. My mother…"

"Adelaide, yes. The disease is gruesome, appears to take the lives of those infected, but the soul remains. That is how the king can steal their magic. Their heart continues to beat. Slow and soft, but a beat nonetheless. He can only steal magic that is alive, but weakened. A brilliant spell, really." Eudora’s eyes sparkled as if in admiration.

"That can’t be true." Lea’s hands began to shake, and she squeezed them into fists, her fingernails cutting into her palms.

"Would you have gone near someone with the disease? Had someone only bothered to check for a pulse, they would have realized the dead weren’t really dead at all." Eudora smiled, and Lea felt the urge to shove her shadows between her teeth and down her throat.

Anger wasn’t an appropriate word for what Lea felt. It was sorrow and rage and an all consuming urge for revenge. A dark, wicked fire flickered beneath the floor in her chest, its smoke floating through the small crack and escaping to wrap around her heart as the room grew darker, the flames of the candles only suggestions of light. Smoky gray shadows floated into every crevice of the room, pulsing with her own heartbeat.

"There it is, girl." Eudora’s voice deepened. "Embrace the darkness. You will need that fury to do what is required of you to grow the moonflowers."

Her dark magic skipped in response, thumping against the floor in her chest. "Tell me what I have to do." Lea would do anything. Absolutely anything to save the lives of those infected.

"It was lifeblood spilled from your grandmother’s throat to create the spell. To break it, blood must be given back to the flowers. It must drown the soil where they grow, and the seeds must consume it. Only one with the blood of the wronged in their veins may pick the petals. They are owed to you, and you alone."

The right person, at the right time, with the right intentions…Her mother’s letter grew warm in her pocket.

"Just water the soil with blood, and as long as I am the one to pick the petals, it will work?"

Eudora tilted her head, as if she wanted to say more. "With enough blood, yes. That will allow them to grow."

"And have your visions shown you this? Have they shown us successfully killing the Nestruirs and growing the flowers?"

"In one reality, yes. You must be careful with the decisions you make. There are many possible outcomes." Eudora reached for Lea’s cup, still overturned on the table in front of her, but Lea snatched it with her shadows, placing a finger on the inside and swirling the leaves.

"I will make the right choices," Lea said, standing and commanding her shadows to open the door to the stairwell. "And I will decide my own fate. Not you, and certainly not your gods' damned tea leaves." Lea placed the cup back on the table with a thud, the china cracking near the handle as Lea walked calmly from the room, her shadows swiping the small green vial hiding in Eudora’s sleeve.

Chapter 65

Janelle

Janelle’sbodywasonfire, but she wasn’t certain if it was from kissing Erik or from his explosive anger when he'd seen her scar. It wasn’t exactly how she’d planned on telling him what had happened to her, the reason she stayed emotionally detached. Actually, she would have preferred to never have told him why she chose to stick to the physical aspect of relationships, but he’d felt the jagged lines on her skin, and she’d had no choice. Janelle had known what he’d find as he slid her pants down, and she’d let him do it anyway. That’s how much she wanted him—enough for him to know the truth.

She was broken. Scarred. Not only on the outside, but deep inside her soul as well.

The cool sea breeze kissed Janelle’s skin and blew her hair around her face, the heat at her back from the inside of the room almost tolerable now that she was standing in the open air. Janelle looked up at Erik who was staring intensely out at the ocean, his hands gripping the thick railing so hard, Janelle feared it might shatter.

"Say something," she urged, the silence causing her skin to itch and her scar to burn. The muscles of Erik‘s jaw bunched. He ground his teeth together, and with a heavy sigh, he turned to face her, pulling his eyes from the reflection of the moon dancing along the waves.

As he met Janelle’s gaze, he almost looked like a different person. His eyes usually twinkled, and the dimple on his right cheek normally peeked out with the hint of a smile he wore at all times. Erik was always so happy, so different from her… From everyone she knew, actually.

"Will you tell me what happened?" His voice sounded deeper, rougher, as if he’d had to force the words from his throat.

"It doesn’t matter." Janelle grabbed his hand. "It’s in the past."

"It matters to me,"Erik said, pulling her closer. "It's not in the past if it follows you when you sleep. If you don’t feel safe. If whoever hurt you is still breathing."

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