Page 16 of The Curse of Golden Blood
With a flick of my wrist and a whispered trigger word in the old tongue, the sigils carved into the obsidian flared beneath my feet—and split me apart in illusion.
"Pick one," I said. All five voices spoke at once, echoing over the roar of the storm.
She whirled, breathing hard. She hesitated as I stood there, waiting, the multiple copies of me lined up in a row, patiently facing her.
This part of training was essential. If our Vessels could distinguish between illusion and reality, even just once, their odds of survival were significantly higher.
She took one step back, then another. As though she were running calculations in her head.
And then she stopped moving.
Her chest rose once—sharp, sudden—then held. Her pupils dilated, and she threw back her shoulders.
I sensed it the moment before she moved. The dagger flashed through the rain in a perfect, vicious arc, flying straight toward me.
My fingers snapped up and caught the blade mid-air, stopping it a breath before it could pierce through my sternum. "Too slow."
Her chest heaved as she glared at me, her lips trembling slightly. I let the dagger evaporate.
"I found the right one, didn't I?"
She had. That clever little mortal.
I inclined my head, and the illusions around me faded, revealing only the original.
"You did," I said. "How?"
"If I tell you, will you answer one of my questions?"
"That depends on the question."
"Just one. That's all I'm asking."
"One."
"Who killed Ciradyl Tavora?"
"Who?"
"You know who. My sister. "
"I do not know."
"That's a lie."
"A fae cannot lie."
"You just did."
"No," I murmured, stepping closer. "I did not."
She stiffened as I came nearer, her hands closing into fists at her sides. She did not shy away, though. Not from me. No, that little mortal would sooner cut out her own heart than give in.
"Your turn." I lowered my head and leaned in. "Tell me how you found the right me."
She exhaled. The breath seemed to carry something of her resistance with it. "I chose the real you because the others didn't have this."
Her fingers brushed the agralt chain hanging from my neck. It held a small, round pendant, etched with the sigil of the Thunder Court.
