Page 98 of Nocturn

“The Lore of Old will tell you exactly what the suppressants are stifling.” A thrill of irritation sparked at her deflection, but she continued speaking. “There is a more pressing issue. Your Lord Draven needs to be told the truth.”

“My?” The bloom trembled inside me. “I am but a Vessel⁠—”

“Lies told to keep you in line,” she intoned. Her voice did not shift, but it held weight. “You must make him believe you are his bondmate—you both are an Elysian Pair.”

Rapid thuds smashed against my chest. “What if I cannot?” I cried. “Lord Draven is a volatile man when contradicted.”

A smile flitted across her lips.

“Collect your grimoire, Amara,” she murmured. “What you sought so carefully is now yours.”

“So the Articles of Prophecy⁠—”

“Is the grimoire.” She cocked her head. “Now this falsehood was my doing. The records they set ablaze was a show for Cassiel.”

I gawked for a few moments under the regard of her steady gaze, giving me no other choice but to turn to the grimoire.

“The very thing they used to track you, will also drive their downfall, Amara Ixchelca.”

The surname took my breath from my lungs.

It had been so long. I struggled to remember the scent of sweet blooms my mother always smelled like, or how father would scratch his temple when I frustrated him . . . Those were the memories I worked to cling to over the various annums that had passed, yet my family name had faded from my memory.

I was not a Nadien—an orphan. I lifted the thin booklet. As soon as it was in my hands, a glamour fell away from the grimoire, showing me the leather cover and its thickness that encompassed my stretched out palm.

The leather of the cover was made up of stitched-up sections, varying in colors. There was something quite familiar about the texture.

“It’s skin,” Lucinda interjected with glee in her tone.

I stopped petting the grimoire. The prophet chuckled. I hugged it to my chest.

“One final thing before you go, Amara,” she intoned. “When the time comes, you will take Lucinda with you.”

A loud scoff came from the other glass enclosure. Lucinda was already on her feet with a scowl settled on her face.

“Mother, I cannot leave you.”

Mother?

“You will. When the time comes. You will leave me and you will not turn back. I refuse to have this consciousness switched to you. I will not sacrifice you when many other children have been sacrificed to pass on the prophet. It ends with me.”

They stared at each other, Lucinda with a stiff upper lip, and the prophet calm. It was obvious they had had this argument many times before. Just as she mentioned the original council switched their consciousness . . . it also applied to the prophets.

The prophet turned back to me. “I will free her, and she will meet you whilst you flee,” she intoned.

I had just been assigned a companion.

“Do I⁠—”

“You will only need to protect her until she leaves the Kingdom. Then fate will handle the rest.” She smiled secretively. An intense wave of fear washed over me.

I hugged the Lore of Old in my arms, tucking it tight to my chest, and ran from the closing bookcase.

Egan had begun pacing when I reached the top. His gaze fell on what I hugged, but I was already rushing past him toward the feeder wing. I would hide it and return to the Ball. Our footsteps pounded across the hall, reverberating off the walls.

“You will get yourself slaughtered!” Egan hissed, yanking me by my arm. I twisted it and got loose. We had reached the door leading into the feeder chamber, and I whipped it open.

Turning to face him, I said, “That was already my fate.”