Page 128 of The Edge of Darkness

“When I go back to Neveshir. If the spell requires her diadem’s stone, I will have to get it somehow. Might as well have her spill all the information while I’m at it.” Her jaw hardened, as if summoning the goddess was not something she regarded as particularly pleasant. She took one last glance at the unbinding spell, then pushed it away. “I have many questions to ask her.”

I did not know what it was going to cost Nivelle, but asking for the witch goddess’s talisman seemed like a task that might not go over well. “Is there anything I can do to help? Will there be a cost?”

Nivelle lowered her chin, pursing her lips in consideration. “There is nothing you can do.” She didn’t answer whether there would be a cost, but something told me not to pry about it.

We fell silent for a moment, each of us in deep thought, until Maeson spoke. “I was wondering about something. Niall asked me if I could acquire a good amount of Zaldora. Does that have anything to do with this?”

Nivelle looked up, raising her brows in surprise.

I leaned back in my chair as I stared at the witch. “You thought he wouldn’t get you what you asked for?”

“I didn’t expect him to, no.”

I chuckled lightly. “I’m pretty sure there is not a thing he wouldn’t do for any one of us.”

Nivelle took a moment to gather her thoughts, seeming to linger on what I’d said about Niall. By now, I was sure she had started to see the lengths he was willing to go to for those he cared for. And whether she believed it or not, she was a part of this group now. He would see to it that she was taken care of, regardless of the attitude she tended to toss his direction.

“The Zaldora is for you,” she finally said, meeting my eyes. “It was my first thought when it was mentioned that you wanted to try and break the curse. Zaldora seeds, when burned, can inhibit foresight.” She paused, waiting for me to pick up on what she was hinting at.

Maeson figured it out first, and grinned. “You want to use it to stop the Aether from knowing what’s happening when we cast the unbinding spell.”

On the verge of grinning herself, Nivelle nodded. “That is my plan.”

I nodded, slowly, piecing everything together.

“I have the perfect place to prepare the Zaldora,” Maeson said. “I’m happy to help, if you want.”

“That would be nice.”

The two of them knew what they were doing, and I was glad of it, because I was going to need time to wrap my head around everything else this was going to require.

Maeson tucked the book away in her belt and reached for the other stack that Nivelle had brought. “Should we check these for any more information, just in case?”

Nivelle shook her head. “That book is the closest thing to what we are looking for. And if what we’ve found doesn’t work, I fear nothing we attempt will.”

Hours later, I stood beside Maeson in The Elderwood, staring down at my leather bandolier which contained some of my most prized throwing knives. Next to it sat three different daggers, each with a unique handle and blade.

“Quite the collection,” Maeson marveled while plucking at the weapons like they were sweets.

“I do pride myself on having a multitude of rather enchanting pieces.”

Benmoor had quite the trade in precious gemstones and metals, most of which were mined from either the mountains in the far southwest reaches of Calledan, or the treacherous ice cliffs in southern Drastia.

The majority of my blades came from well-vetted vendors, who dealt in crafting custom weapons that favored the ancient style of a curved blade and ornamented handle. Far rarer pieces were produced by more magical means using Old Magic, and those types of weapons were very hard to acquire. I had procured only one such dagger in all my years, and had foolishly lost it to Remic in a bet nearly half a century ago. I was still trying to win that weapon back in every wager we’d made since then.

The daggers that I usually kept on me were a mixed assortment. One of my favorites was a gift from Niall. It had a pitted, black hilt, made from Calledan stone, with a smooth emerald embedded in the pommel. But the blade was the best part. It was made from the bone of a creature steeped in lore, gleaming white, with an edge sharper than any metal.

Maeson’s hand briefly hovered over that particular weapon, but she opted for a ruby-encrusted one with a curved blade instead. “Who knew weapons could be so decorative.” She lifted the dagger, but fumbled it in her grasp.

I quickly caught her wrist in one hand and the blade’s hilt in another. “Careful, they’re deathly sharp. Wouldn’t want you to scar those pretty hands.”

Her skin flushed with warmth beneath my grip. This time, I placed the dagger carefully into her palm.

I’d never seen her with a blade of any sort before. She had always used her gift of fire whenever the time called for it. And though she was very powerful and skilled in her craft, learning to use a physical weapon was vital, especially with the threat that loomed in the north. Earlier, when she suggested I teach her how to use the daggers, I practically leapt at the opportunity.

It was a rare occurrence when she and I were alone together. Perhaps that was for the best, considering I was becoming more of a liability to myself the longer I was in her presence. But this was one of those times when I ignored my better judgment in favor of just being in her company. It was the only thing that took the edge off of this yearning.

This unspoken thing between us had always been there. We both danced around it, not knowing how to approach it. She thought I had no idea about her feelings toward me, but I’d known from the start. It was just far more difficult for me to acknowledge it on my end, given that the Aura tended to make things a continuous power struggle. It used my emotions as a leash. The one thing I wanted to access the most, whenever it came to Maeson, was the one thing that was furthest from my reach.