Page 100 of Elysian

Perhaps Liadan was not one with potential. I turned the thought over in my head, the grimoire’s lines circling my thoughts. Unless it must be activated.

“I need a blade,” I announced. Blood held meaning, and perhaps that was how it would draw out what it must. Morak neared and offered it.

“Liadan, cut your skin,” I said. Liadan took it and I kept the stone in hand. “If this does work, you may be a viable Warlord.”

I pressed the stone to the slice made across his forearm. Blue welled in a thin line. The stone warmed in my hand upon the blue blood touching it. I raised my eyes to his. He watched me without any reaction. Yet, a thin red line rimmed his iris, right where the blue met the pupil.

My shoulders relaxed. I had been right. Now we knew who could be a Warlord. Liadan continued jumping from one face to the other.

“A red rim crowned his pupil,” I explained for Liadan’s sake.

Morak hissed a breath out. “This changes things,” Morak whispered. “How do we Awaken him?” He turned toward me.

It was so fast and abrupt that his approach had me stumbling back. Cassiel hissed, moving before me to grab the collar of his linen shirt.

Morak held both hands up, mouth pinched. “Apologies, Your Highness.”

‘He’s seen reason. He needs us.’ Of course Cassiel took the opportunity to make his point.

Morak’s grin was vicious. “We can change the tides.”

Liadan caught on quickly, and he looked at me, then at Cassiel. “Do you recall Awakening?”

“No,” Cassiel said, frowning.

“I am sure it is in the grimoire.”

“Keep reading,” Morak ordered. He peered at Cassiel and straightened, running his hand down his chest. “Apologies.” Cassiel rested his hand on my shoulder. “I will speak to the Elders about how we will proceed,” Morak announced.

“Elders?” I asked hesitantly.

“It is how we lead in the Resistance. A collection of Elders will vote on a decision.” He must have seen the concern on my face. “It is not only bluebloods. Redbloods have a say.”

The council members were advisors to Cassiel . . . but they had been the ones driving their plans forth. Would this method of decision-making differ?

Shouting came from the other side of the door.

A deep voice rang out. “Morak, that girl wants to come in.”

Morak seemed to know exactly who he spoke of because he rubbed his face with a sigh. “Let her in.”

“Lucinda,” I breathed as the door opened and I saw who stood beyond it. She strode inside, her skirt fluttering about her legs. “Thank Saints you sent them to find us.” I kept my hands to myself to not reach for her. “Had your mother told you what would happen? Is that why you sent them to find us at the estate?”

“Yes,” she announced, stopping before me. From her stride, I expected her to pass me by.

Her panther wraithling entered and edged to the side of the study. She angled her head to Morak. She shuffled from foot to foot, eyes darting about.

“Are you . . .”

Lucinda grabbed my arm, stopping the words. “Will you speak to me in private for a moment?” She dragged me after her, near to her wraithling.

“Lucinda,” I muttered.

“Amara,” she retorted and faced me. “Do not mention my mother or what she was.”

I frowned. “What?”

“It was not mother who told me of what was happening. I have been having dreams.” Her lips pursed. She seemed almost frightened.