Page 54 of Heir to His Court

He gave me knowing look. I finally slid my hand in his, palm up, Lavendre at my side with her flinty, unblinking stare.

“If that book harms my Lady,” she said, “I will strip the skin from your muscles and make you eat it.”

Dean Alawarre actually rolled his eyes. My estimation of his age decreased—or perhaps his younger students had rubbed off on him—and of his courage, increased.

The blade sliced into my palm.

ChapterSixteen

Pain flared. I ignored it as Alawarre cursed, muttering to himself. “My apologies for the enthusiasm of the cut, Lady. I'm rather clumsy with a blade.”

He ignored Lavendre, or appeared to—he shifted away from the table slightly.

I held my cut palm over the book, suppressing the childish urge to press a fresh print onto the book's open page. The moment the first drop of blood dripped onto the paper, glowing symbols began crawling in straight lines from left to right, forming sentences.

The Dean retreated another step.

I glanced at him. He shook his head, and addressed Lavendre. “It's better if neither of us touch the book, warrior. These artifacts can be volatile in the early stages of bonding to an owner.”

I tilted my head, watching words form in a language I didn’t recognize. Interesting. Shrugging, I reached out and plucked the book up—

—when would I learn?

My first thought was Alawarre had betrayed me. My second thought was Embry had set a trap; why I was not certain unless he'd possessed prescience.

Understanding more about the nature of Fae power than I had several weeks ago, I did not panic though I couldn’t turn, or open my eyes, or breathe.

Realms cursed voids. I hated voids. Even in the gray misty place where I retreated to speak to Darkanwas a sense of form, of passing time.

Here there was nothing.

Nothing became pain.

The worst pain because I couldn’t draw in breath to scream. It was worse, so many times worse than when Juhainah had trapped me in my own mind in an attempt to take over my body.

What are you?

The disembodied voice came from nowhere and everywhere without warning. It was not me. It was not Raniel. It was not Juhainah. I couldn't tell if it was male or female, old or young, Fae or ancient.

Through the. . .what was pain when there were no physical nerves to feel it?. . .I tried to think.

About the meaning of the word what. About the meaning of the word are.

I am Aerinne Capulette. No—Aerinne Kuthliele.

That is not what you are.

No.

What. Are.

The entity asked the essential question. What; being the extent of. Are, a tense of the word be; existence.

I have no answer for you. I don't know.

It was too big a question. What could I say? That I was a daughter? Lady of my House? That the entirety of my existence was informed by my simultaneous need to avenge my mother and bring her final wish for peace into fruition?

I had also spent the entirety of my existence killing. Killing to protect, but also to assuage my awful emptiness. I struggled daily to bridge the two halves of my nature.

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