Page 71 of Devoted

Emilia leaned forward, her focus sharpening into something predatory.

“The Basin’s magic is intrinsically linked to this Dynasty. To its blood. To its people. And yes, in Blackwood’s hands, he will use that connection to turn us all into slaves. But that was never the intent of the gift, the magic, or the priestess. And all the warlord ever wanted was peace.”

“Well, given the bloodthirsty nature of our species, I’d say he set the bar a bit high,” Dante grumbled, squeezing my knee. “So, could you do it? Could you destroy the Basin if it came down to it being used against us?”

She shook her head, “I’m afraid I cannot.”

“Then what the fuck are we…” Dante rose from his seat.

I laid my hand over his forearm to stop him. I tipped my head to the side, watching her play with the bone key strung around her neck. The way her voice had softened when she spoke of this warlord, probably dead for a millennium, made me curious.

But it was the way Emilia told the story, as though she’d actually been there, that set my hair standing on end.

“You said the High Priestess found the Basin,” I prompted. “Where does one just find a magical relic?”

“Beneath the roots of a sacred oak tree, felled during a violent storm. The earth split open, revealing a hidden chamber built by a forgotten people older than the Celts. At the center of the chamber was an ancient stone basin carved from a single piece of black basalt, its surface covered in runes she was not able to read, though she recognized the power radiating from the stone.”

There was that look again.

As if Emilia was staring straight into the past.

Ice shivered over my skin, as if someone walked over my grave, Dante laying his hand over my arm, his grip firm and steady.

“It took ten of her strongest witches—and all their magic—to lift the great stone from its resting place and drag it back to their village and another month before any of them gathered the courage to access the magic.

“The first three witches who attempted it died the second they touched the surface. They used ancient binding spells, intent on controlling the relic. Then the High Priestess cut her hand and dripped her blood upon the stone—not to bind an ancient power, but to make an offering to the three-headed goddess. And the Basin answered back.”

Unease pulsed inside me as I remembered the book Gabriel brought me—barely a month ago—that told this exact story.

And how the priestess was never heard from again.

“The runes flared bright, the earth shook, and the air trembled, and then… the Basin claimed her.” Emilia pulled in a rasping breath. “But not in the way you think. After so long a drought, the Basin thirsted for blood. For life. And an offering given freely was returned. The gift of eternal life—so long as the Basin endured, so would the High Priestess. As its guardian, and its protector.” She pressed the bone key to her lips one last time, scanning our faces.

“I cannot destroy the Basin because my soul is tethered to that rock. I never meant for this to happen, but it is done. For as long as the Basin exists… so do I.”

In the silence, her eyes caught mine, giving that statement time to sink in.

For me—for all of us—to realize the truth.

That Emilia was the High Priestess who gave the Basin to the vampire warlord two thousand years ago. A dark, terrible gift, the book had said. A weapon to enslave. To judge. To build an empire upon.

The High Priestess hadn’t disappeared into the past.

She’d been hiding in plain sight. Right in front of us.

“Destroy the Basin, destroy myself.” Emilia sighed, with a hint of regret. “As much as I would like to help, I’m sure you understand my dilemma.”

Her gaze stopped on Nico. “Now, then. Let’s get you sorted, shall we? Emberline, will you join us? I’d very much like to hear about your ventures into the Underworld, especially since I cautioned you so strongly against it. Not that you ever listen to reason.”

I expected Emilia to lead us to a different room in the temple, but instead, we left everyone behind and hiked across the uneven, rocky ground to the dark stone abbey, perched like a figurehead at the prow of a great ship. Shadows poured off Nico’s shoulders, his fingers brushing the back of my hand every so often, as though he was reassuring me everything would be okay.

Emilia’s white, ruined dress swirled around her bare legs as she strode in front of us, a queen assessing her kingdom, and now everything made sense.

She wasn’t just old… she was older than any other vampire in our Dynasty.

A witch, turned into something else. Different than our kind.

Something we should fear.