Page 135 of Blood Feast

Lio paused to examine the mortars, pestles, and jars. “This is definitely Lustri pottery dating from the end of the GreatTemple Era! I’ve only seen broken fragments in Prince Iulios’s museum!”

Cassia tried to close her jaw, but she was too much in awe of everything they found.

When they reached a dining hall on the first floor, Lio sighed. “No library. I suppose it was too much to hope for, considering that the Lustri had a primarily oral culture.”

“So much died with them,” Cassia murmured.

Two high-backed wooden chairs stood in front of the hearth. Knight lay down on the fur rug in the glow of the flames. For the eternal magefire of a dead king, it was remarkably cozy, although her Hesperine senses warned her away. Like all the magic here, the flames both called to her and repelled her.

Her arm throbbed with the pain Lio had been ignoring. She patted one of the chairs. “Come here. Let me see to your injury.”

He sank onto his seat. Even weary from battle, he looked noble and powerful sitting there. No fire mage for her. This Silvicultrix now ruled the tower with an immortal sorcerer king at her side.

She sat on his lap and examined the break. “It doesn’t need to be set. A good long drink should set you to rights.”

He traced the vein on the inside of her wrist. “And you, my rose? Are you all right?”

She knew he wouldn’t accept her blood until she set his mind at ease. But she struggled to find any reassuring words. “I’m not sure I can forgive my ancestor for what her magic did to Mak.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“You are not allowed to tell me to stop blaming myself when you are so occupied with your own self-blame.”

He sighed and looked away, the fire casting his elegant profile in gold.

She turned his face back to her. “We learned this already, my Grace. Hespera taught it to us at the End, when my Gifting mighthave destroyed me. We have to forgive ourselves. Can you help me remember that?”

“You’re right. That lesson is a gift we must carry with us always.” He gave her a sad smile. “Let us remind each other of it, every time we have a new regret, until our stubborn minds finally learn.”

She ran her hand down his chest. It was not their minds that were the trouble, but their broken hearts.

“I know,” he whispered.

“Since we had to leave home, we’ve done nothing but get ambushed. We cannot afford to go into our next battle so blind.”

“No,” he agreed. “But we don’t have much time.”

“No,” she replied tightly.

Peace and war. Preparation and time. So many imperatives pulling them in opposing directions. So many conflicts that seemed to have no solution.

“I don’t think we have a choice,” Lio said. “We have to stop here until we’re ready to face Miranda. When we go to meet her at Castra Roborra, we need to be prepared for anything.”

Cassia traced the furrow on his brow, and he closed his eyes. “How close do you honestly think Kallikrates is to the door?”

“Closer than us,” Lio confessed.

“Yes.”

The magic inside her felt so heavy suddenly, too much even for her immortal frame to carry.

She saw the heart hunter’s lifeless body in the snow. The broken bodies of innocent mortals at the lighthouse.

The blood pouring from Mak’s heart. Her own bleeding hand, reaching toward the door.

“I’ll keep trying,” she promised Lio and herself and everyone Kallikrates would destroy if she laid down to rest.

“And I will keep trying with you,” her Grace swore.

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