Page 93 of Unraveled
Ash stands and brings me along with him. He’s so large he blocks what little light comes from the lantern, his bodyand wings casting a shadow, and his eyes taking on a glowing appearance.
“So, does that mean Nera will turn into a bird like you if she connects with her spirit?” I grin at the glint that shines in his expression. “What do you think her spirit will be like?”
“My family believed the spirits that connect with us match our temper. Naheli, for example, is calm and reasonable?—”
“More like sassy and snippy,” I scoff, shaking my head as a drying spell wafts around us, leaving traces of Ash’s magic clinging to our bodies. I suppose both things can be true. Naheli is sassy and mischievous, but also calm—and perhaps even reasonable. “You think Nera’s spirit is going to be stubborn and strong, craving freedom and adventure?”
“Yes, and it will be what keeps her sane—and safe—when Sylas comes for her. The seelie kingdom is not like Aphelion. The only spirits roaming freely there are evil ones.”
I shiver, remembering the creatures Ash talked about. The Naga, serpents that eat magical humans.
“Even the shadows will try to kill you there.”
Whatever playful mood I was in is dampened by the horror of Nera’s future. Judging by Ash’s sulking expression, he is there as well.
“Can we do anything to stop Sylas from taking her?”
He swallows, thickly, before shaking his head. “I’ll try anything, if—when—it comes to that. But the contract is binding.” He hesitates, pain flashing in his features as we step into the room. “He’s her mate, Monster. Even if I hate him, she belongs with him, much like he does with her.”
I’m angry at the old king of the unseelie, her father, who gave Nera away in an unbreakable magical bargain with the seelie. I’m furious that if I’m able to lift this curse, I may bind my friend to another prison, when all she wants is to be free.
But perhaps Nera will use her vast power and strength to carve out a destiny for herself. One she wants, instead of the one males are forcing her to carry.
Chapter 31
“The more Ipage through these grimoires, the more I think you’re right. The strix must have an ulterior motive to hold on to these.” I shut the book I’ve been trying to read for the last hour and put it back on the table. “Though I guess mastering the art of casting glamours could be useful...”
I glance at the cover of the book, reading the name embossed in gold on the first page.Morla Skye.
“What did you just say?” Ash turns to me, his face paling.
“That I think you’re right, the strix must be up to something?”
“No, the thing about the glamours.” He steps away from the window he’s been standing in front of, staring at the gloomy afternoon, for at least half an hour. Taking the grimoire, Ash studies the spine with a growing frown. “Skye...”
There’s a familiarity in his inflection that makes my stomach twist with something ugly. Morla Skye has to be someone he was close to.
“You know her?”
His nostrils flare as he tosses the book onto the table, and it bounces unceremoniously before falling to the ground with a thump.
I blink, watching the trail of magic the grimoire left behind. Ash’s jaw clenches tightly, and his face reddens as if he’s trying to speak, but can’t. His expression is pure, stone-cold rage.
Ice chases the heat of jealousy that previously took over my heart, and somehow, I know who this is.
The hybrid woman who loves—or hates—roses. The one who cursed Ash and his kingdom. It has to be to elicit such a reaction. Someone who was close enough to him to steal right out from under his nose. Someone who lived in the castle and wrote books for his personal library.
If I ask the right question, he may be able to answer. “Is Morla the one who cursed you?”
He hesitates, swallowing deeply before nodding. He tries to speak twice, but fails. Whatever safeguard the curse has, it prevents him from telling me details of who she is and possibly what she did.
“You already told me back in Hedrum she was one of your tributes. But did she become more? A friend—someone close to you?”
His face brightens, like I struck gold with my simple question.
“Unlike most of the souls we take during the Hunt, the wordtributefits Skye very well.” He takes a deep breath, looking at the ceiling. “She walked right in and offered herself to my father. She claimed—truthfully, it turns out—to be a wielder of great power. My father refused to allow a hybrid to work for him and ordered the guards to kill her.”
“Gods . . .” He sounds horrible.
