Page 28 of The Reaping Rose

Dropping my chin, I take a breath, defeat rushing through me. What did I expect to find here? What have I risked? My father kept my mother a secret for a reason, and I’m only now beginning to understand it.

“You’re disappointed that I do not care about him.” Idunn’s chin lifts when I look at her. “He was just a human, Elorie. He is not us.”

“You find no value in those who aren’t Fae?”

Her head angles. “I find no value in much of what you’ve asked me. Yet I’ve answered your questions.”

“Why did I bother?” I grumble, starting to turn away.

But she moves in a flash that shakes the ground. “Wait.”

“For what? You to disregard something else I care about? First, you disrespect my father, then all humans. It’s my turn next, right?”

“No, you are very important, Elorie Vale. And you need me, do you not? That’s why you came here.”

“I don’t need anything from you,” I lie.

Her grin proves I’m not fooling anyone. But before I can storm off, the ground shakes, and I nearly stumble into the cell. My foot skids to the edge of the runes, a fraction away from grazing them as I quickly take a step back.

Another quake rattles the prison, but it’s unlike when the prison moves on its own. This is a jolt from somewhere else.

Idunn smiles, glancing up as if she sees something. But when I follow her gaze, there is nothing there.

“Is something wrong with the prison?”

“No, no, no, no, no.” Her eyes brighten, her smile widening as she mumbles the words. “That is not within.”

Idunn closes her eyes and takes a deep inhale. Holding the scent in her lungs as her smile grows.

“No, that is not from within at all.” Her eyes blink open. “What have you wrought, daughter of the stars?”

Chapter 10

Callum

Before me, the sword sits half buried in the icy-cold, pebble-ridden dirt. Greer and Elorie warned me that it can’t be moved, but I still tried. The ground is unforgiving, the blade barely wobbling when I tug. It’s frozen. The key to a lock that I can’t seem to wake.

For three mornings in a row, I’ve knelt at this blade, gripped the cold hilt, and tunneled into the core of myself in an attempt to summon a fleck of magic to open a Gate. But the magic in the blade doesn’t appear for me like it did for Elorie. The blue river running through the silver is unmoving.

Quiet.

All around Alyssium, it’s cold. But here, where the blade sinks into the ground, the icy cast of something else lingers. Shadows deepen no matter what time of day. As if the blade swallows any light or swell of magic.

“Come on.” I grip the sword again, my fingers locking tight.

Closing my eyes, I envision driving deeper, and I plummet. The breeze whips my hair against my ears. Its whispers prickle the back of my neck.

I fall and fall, so deep into my being that I’m at the pit of where my magic hides, looking up at myself. But the blade does not wake.

“Callum.” My eyes fly open, and I release the sword.

There’s no one here. Yet among the dark, spidery tendrils wound deep in my thoughts, someone called for me. It’s probably the wind playing games with my mind again. It’s as much a friend as it is foe, haunting me with reminders of something I can’t quite put my finger on.

I dip my chin, defeated. The birds’ chant echoes through the forest. The blade, dull as ever, sits before me. A beacon of what I cannot do—of all the ways I’ve failed these past few months.

Intricate designs decorate the hilt. I run my finger over the careful pattern. I thought nothing of them when I first approached the sword, but this close, I can make out the constellations. Dots tie the threads together in the shapes of runes. Some I know, while others are foreign.

My thumbnail slips into the grooves, and when I pull back, I notice it’s flecked with crimson.