Page 110 of Cursed

We dragged Elder Craster through the thickening shadows, and his body was like a ragged puppet strung along between my brothers. Each step echoed in the stillness, but the whispers that snaked through the darkness were unsettling as they crept over my skin.

The Council was already here, which meant Lucian was, too.

Craster let out a muffled whimper, and I looked back over my shoulder at my brothers. The old man’s eyes were wide and frantic, and there was a wound over his left eyebrow that had wet the side of his face with dark blood. His eyes darted between us as he struggled against his bonds.

A surge of power rippled through me, dark and heady, and I realized it was impossiblenotto relish every moment of the old Sage’s humiliation. “What?” I demanded.

Bastian and Valen stopped short.

“What?” Valen echoed.

“We have to keep going,” Bastian said. “Lucian will be pissed— it’s almost dawn.”

“The old man wants to say something,” I snarled. “Get that gag out of his mouth.”

Bastian’s lip curled. “Are you serious?”

“He hasn’t used his magic on us,” I snapped. “He knows it’s futile.”

Bastian shrugged and yanked the frayed cloth from the old man’s mouth. The Elder let out a ragged gasp.

“What the fuck do you want?” I growled. “Say it now, but know that it’s not going to change anything.”

“Lucian’s new bride,” he croaked. “The Velez girl— I know— I know something—”

“He’s lying,” Bastian barked. “What could he know?”

Valen’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

“Perhaps we should hear him out,” I murmured, my eyes still locked onto the Elder’s fearful gaze. His watery violet eyes held a desperate glint that I found intriguing. “Speak.”

“I—I know what she is… What Dario has done…” His quaking voice barely echoed in the chamber.

“Dario?” Bastian scoffed. His gaze turned dark as his grip on the Elder’s arm tightened. “Dario Velezfailed, old man. Don’t you remember? He’s long dead, and all his plans were ground into dust beneath Lucian’s boots.”

Bastian was right— But I was curious now. “And what, exactly, did Dario Velez do?”

“The grimoire—” the old man choked out. “He—”

Before the Elder could continue, a voice sliced through the chamber’s gloom and echoed around us.

“Titus! Bring the traitor forth to face his judgement!”

Bastian’s lip curled into a grimace as he jerked the Elder forward. Together with Valen, they forced the old Sage onward to the awaiting council.

I watched them pass, but my brain was on fire with what he’d said—it wasn’t enough to do anything but leave more questions. But I couldn’t do anything.

I forced my legs into motion and followed my brothers down the corridor and into the main chamber where my father and the members of the Black Council waited.

They glared down at us from a raised stone dais where they stood in a crescent formation.

Lucian was in the center, dressed as elegantly as if he were speaking at a board meeting for one of the most powerful investment firms in Messana. Above his shoulder, the red orb that usually floated above his desk in his study hovered in mid-air. Its deep ruby glow altered the appearance of the other sorcerers in the room and the chamber itself seemed to flex and change with its every pulse. Delicate tendrils of soft scarlet smoke whirled around it like a slow-moving storm and little sparks of red light punctuated its movement.

“There you are.” My father’s smile was always chilling, but this one sent shivers down my spine and ahead of me Valen flinched slightly.

“I fear you’ve forgotten your oaths, Elder Craster.” Lucian’s voice was smooth, like oil on water, as he regarded the man in front of him with disdain. “And I don’t think I need to remind you of the penalty for such an offense.”

“You should be on your knees,” Bastian snarled. He and Valen pushed the Elder forward.

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