Page 41 of The Ashes and the Star-Cursed King

And there was just something about the way he said it…

Something about the snide little tone to his voice that made me think of the two open locks to my room.

Vincent’s study, the only open door in the entire wing.

And this device, sitting right there, ready to be found.

Would Vincent ever have left such a valuable object out on his desk? Even in the throes of warfare?Especiallyin the throes of warfare?

Watch that face of yours,Vincent whispered to me, but it was too late. The sparkle of satisfaction in Septimus’s eyes said he saw my realization.

“Every bet I’ve placed on you has been a winning one, dove,” he said. “Over and over again.”

Raihn abruptly stepped out from behind me, crossing the table to stand across from me. His hands clasped behind his back, his face hard despite the smile at his lips—a strangely joyless expression.

“You’re lucky, princess,” he said. “It turns out, you’re not just a traitor. You’re also useful.”

I’d been manipulated. Was Raihn a part of that, then? Using my grief and my captivity against me? Of course he was. After everything, that shouldn’t have been surprising. It certainly shouldn’t have hurt.

“Most offspring aren’t able to use blooded instruments of their parents, or vice versa,” Septimus said. He ran his fingertip back and forth along the glass shard, spreading black blood along its edge. Unlike when I had done the same, the device didn’t react at all.

I watched it with my jaw set, far too transfixed. I wanted to take his hand off for rubbing his tainted Bloodborn blood on my father’s property.

“The fact that you were able to actually use this, and communicate information to your general… that’s unusual and impressive,” he went on. “Perhaps it’s because of your Heir Mark. Who can truly understand the magic of the gods?”

I didn’t know why it made me so uncomfortable to hear this. To think about all the connections I still had to Vincent—the connections that he had told me my entire life didn’t exist. Part of me wanted to cling to whatever I had left of him, wear it as a badge of pride.

Another part of me hated him for it.

I shut those complicated thoughts away. “So you plan to what, cut me open and start dripping my blood all over Vincent’s possessions? As if I haven’t had vampires lusting after my blood my entire life. Creative.”

Septimus chuckled, the way one would laugh at the antics of a small child.

“Notallof Vincent’s possessions. Just some of them.”

“Your father had a lot of secrets,” Raihn said quietly, in a tone that meant so much more than the words alone.

My biting response died on my tongue, because even I couldn’t argue with the ugly truth of that. Too many secrets.

Then Septimus said something that I truly—down to my bones—was not expecting.

“You’re familiar, I assume, with the story of Alarus and Nyaxia?”

I—what?

“Of course I’m familiar,” I said. “Is there a soul in Obitraes who isn’t?”

What the fuck could that possibly have to do with anything?

“I don’t like to judge,” Septimus said, lifting one shoulder. “So you must know, then, that Alarus is the only major god ever to have been killed.”

“Get to the point, Septimus,” Raihn grumbled. But even as he scolded Septimus, he was watching me.

Septimus raised his hands, in a lazyfair enough.

“We’re vampires. We know death better than any other. And we all know that any being that dies leaves something behind. Bones. Blood. Magic.Offspring.” Septimus gave me a knowing half smile. “And that goes for gods, too. As what we leave behind holds some of our power, so, too, do a god’s remains.”

Despite myself, my curiosity was getting the better of me, just because what he was saying was so… bizarre. “You’re talking about finding Alarus’s… corpse?”

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