Page 37 of A Crown So Cursed
“It won’t,” Gwendolyn said.
She padded over to the wardrobe to retrieve the dragon-scaled book, deeming this the right time to show him. “Look,” she said, holding up the tome. “I havenofear of what the Rite of Blood will bring because Iknowthe truth.”
He gazed at her in surprise.
“You found it?”
She nodded.
“Read it?”
She nodded again. “Iamof the blood,” she said, smiling. “This tome holds our history—yours and mine, separate and combined.”
“So you know?”
“Not quite everything,” she allowed. “But given time, I will. For now, I know enough, and this book is a gift beyond measure. I will cherish it always, Málik. I will learn from it. And no matter that I do notlooklike Curcog, I will be her in more than spirit. Her memories will be mine.”
He nodded. “It was a wedding gift from my grandmother,” he said. “Though it will only reveal what transpired before that day.”
Gwendolyn smiled compassionately. “I could never measure the worth of this sacrifice—this precious, precious gift. It is almost as though she knew I would need it someday.”
“She did,” he said. “My grandmother was an oracle.” His expression turned faraway. “She had already had one failed escape, and her exile and imprisonment were too much to bear—but that is also why I fear keeping you imprisoned within Tech Duinn, Gwendolyn. It will diminish you eventually.”
“Whatever my fate, Málik, I will be grateful for the time with you, and I have the Druids and the Púca as well. This is not the same as what Locrinus did to me.”
He was silent for a moment.
“You understand that, don’t you? I have come here willingly, and I will stay here willingly, and whatever my fate, I shall embrace it.”
He nodded, seemingly a bit more appeased.
“Can’t we show this to them? Doesn’t it not prove everything?”
“No,” he said. “That tome will only reveal what it wishes to reveal. And even if it did, you would betray our true names and provide them with the means to compel us. No one can know you are truly Curcog—no one but those who already know. Esme, your father…” He trailed off.
“Yes, that is true,” Gwendolyn agreed, still thinking.
She knew her father had, for a good reason, introduced her to the court as Niamh of the Golden Hair, eschewing her true name, just as no one knew Málik’s, or Esme’s. Esme was not Esme. Her true name was Gráinne.
She carried the book back to the bed and sat for a moment, nibbling at her lower lip, trying to think of some other way to use the book.
What if there could be a witness she trusted to whom she could show the book?Who would it be? Only Esme,she determined. But Esme wasn’t here.
She trusted the Druids, but the Fair Folk did not…and she would give them yet another reason to dispose of them. Sighing, Gwendolyn closed the book, her fingers brushing the cover as she considered more possibilities. “If not this way, how do we convince the court?”
Málik’s sigh was deep. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as he contemplated their limited options. “Knowing and proving are two different things,” he said. “The Rite demands more than words.”
“Blood?” she said.
“There is another way.”
“What?”
“Manifestation.”
“So if I could somehow change myself?”
“Without artifice,” he said. “A glamour will only work on mortals.”
