Page 26 of The Lost Prince
I bristled.
The third Fireguard stepped over us, the sobbing girl in his arms. He disappeared down the corridor, taking her cries with him.
“What were you doing down here?” the second Fireguard grilled me, frowning.
“Just … exploring.” I winced as it came out.
They grabbed me by my shoulders and hauled me up, uncaring of my ankle. At least it was bandaged, and no longer freely bleeding.
Wait, I was bleeding freely. This was the perfect time to try the first ritual!
“Uh, can I stay just a little longer? To clean up?” I stuttered, making my eyes wide and big like I’d seen some of the younger boys do to Vession to lessen a punishment. It rarely worked with him, but I rarely asked the Fireguards for anything. We had an agreement that worked to everyone’s benefit.
Usually.
The second one looked ready to ream me out, but L shook his head and made a quick motion, indicating the other should go.
“You clean the mess up then,” the Fireguard grunted out.
L rolled his eyes. “Fine.”
The Fireguard grumbled, but he left.
I knew getting friendly with the Fireguard would eventually work in my favor! For a moment L and I stood alone with the corpse of the demon creature, black blood forming into a sticky pool underneath it.
L sighed. “I will come back this way in an hour to clean up. Be gone by then,” L cautioned.
“Of course.” I would only need fifteen minutes. “Do you have a knife I could borrow?”
* * *
Rituals needed key ingredients: the design, intent, a knife, and blood. Also, I had my new bucket of water for when the ritual was over to wash with.
I had everything. I was ready.
The dead demon’s face had stretched in a macabre grin. It was almost as though it was taunting me.
“It’s fine,” I remarked to no one.
Who was I trying to convince?
Glancing at the blood already gathering on the floor, I cut off the rag L had tied. I took what had already spilled and painted it in a rough circle on the stone floor the best I could. The outside barrier could be rough, the design only had to be as geometrically perfect as possible on my skin, so the magick flowed organically.
And yet, I hesitated.
A normal human attempting it would simply die.
And in the past, that was what held my hand.
But after the queen’s revelations, I felt like I had something to prove, and nothing to lose.
There was magick in me. I knew it.
I think I’d always suspected it deep down, but the queen had all but confirmed it. Why else would she use me as an experiment? Why else would she show an interest? Something magickal was going on in the palace, and I was involved. Whatever was in the king’s veins now ran through mine.
Even if I was wrong and was a boring, useless human, I wanted to try this.
I wanted to risk it all.
