Page 231 of Cursed Evermore
The thought of my uncle’s innocence didn’t sit well with me. And I wasn’t being a bastard because I despised him. That gut feeling of his guilt was still there churning inside me. Until I had proof of his innocence my thoughts remained, even if itwas contradictory to this new information. I felt that sometimes things didn’t make sense because they weren’t supposed to. If I’d put together a master plan to kill the king of Galaythia I’d make it just as hard for anyone to find me or figure me out.
“What we’re sensing is the remnants of one powerful glamor spell mixed with cloaking,” Alaric offered, squinting into the ivy. “This is how they've been hiding, and I'm guessing they cleared out when they realized Marcus had been caught. But this kind of magic is beyond the rebels. I can’t imagine them knowing how to create a spell with a signature. It’s too rare a gift. We can’t even do that. Or anyone else we know.”
“Someone of great power is working with them,” I breathed, dread squeezing my insides. “We need to figure out who that is.”
“We do. My guess is something important was going to happen here.” Bastian looked around. “Those herbs must have been meant for some kind of spell. But what? Andwhy?”
“We need to find out what spells use such herbs. And anything else we can uncover to help us piece together what’s going on.”
Gods…the time had come to look into this matter. I’d hoped to find the ring before something like this happened but now it had snuck up on me, demanding my attention. I still needed to find the ring, but if I didn’t act fast this problem would fester and probably grow beyond my control.
We looked at each other, silently acknowledging the situation had grown substantially worse.
Something about this incident felt different. The rebels weren't just one step ahead. They were evolving.
Whatever they were planning, I had the sinking feeling we were already too late to stop it.
Chapter 45
Wolfe
“Beauty Before the Storm”
Imade my way down the wide decorated hallway of the palace. The place I grew up.
I was heading to the ballroom. Tonight was Dreynthor's name day celebration.
My mind churned with frustration. We'd spent the last two days investigating the rebels' new trickery to no avail. Every lead had died cold with time bleeding through my fingers.
I needed something concrete, a new definitive approach. One that didn't rely on scraps of information the desperate bartered in exchange for mercy.
Even worse, the spell to locate the ring continued to elude me. Hours of refinement had yielded nothing but failure. And now, I had to abandon everything for tonight's celebration.
The celebration alone I could endure, but the added burden of hosting the King of Thalyrius and his daughter made my jaw clench.
Had it not been for them, I would have skipped the entire thing. A prince’s absence during an allied king’s visit would be agrave insult. Nevertheless, taking a break to celebrate anything while so much teetered on the edge felt like madness.
But what truly gnawed at me was that I hadn't seen Elariya since the other night. My duties had consumed me so completely that time had slipped away.
This was the first time since bringing her to Galaythia that I'd let anything come before her.
Garrick and Arielle's reports assured me she was safe, had visited Hyxian, and was learning more about her powers. But reports were just words on paper.
She'd be arriving soon with Garrick and Arielle, but since I had to play host I wasn’t sure how much time I’d get to spend with her.
My temper flared at the thought of watching her dance with Garrick, then him taking her back to Vyrenth Hollow while I could only look on from afar. As if I wasn't one of the most powerful beings in the realm.
Garrick was nicer than me and had that charm women liked. I didn't do nice or play with charm. I was villainous, fucked up, and psychotic at best. Calling me rough around the edges was laughably tame and made me sound like a saint.
None of that mattered though. I was still screwed. If ever there was a time to suppress my feelings for Elariya, it was tonight. My uncle was already on to me, knowing she meant more than just the apprentice I made her out to be.
Gods be good, listen to me. Was I an idiot for wanting more?
Maybe.But that wouldn't stop me.
I'd never been good at walking away from what I wanted.
Before I reached the doors, Bastian phased in at my side, stepping out of thin air. Like me, he was dressed in his formal court attire—a midnight blue doublet with intricate gold braiding and the royal sigil of the dragon embroidered in gold thread across the chest.
