Page 119 of This Dark Descent
Nelda gasped and Ailene yelped, waking Wolf, who, refusing to be left out, barked. Against Mikira’s protests, Ailene met her halfway in a recklesshug. Nelda joined them, her thin arms wrapping around the back of their waists.
Mikira clung to the steadiness of her sisters, to their solid presences, and finally, the understanding of what she’d done began to sink in. Never again would they live in fear of the Kelbras. Never again would their family struggle to get by.
They were safe.
By the time Mikira finished recounting everything that had happened—leaving out only Gren’s death—Ailene and Nelda had fallen asleep on the couch, their faces stained with tears at the news of Iri’s loss. It was late, the fire burning low and the sky dark. She looked at Nelda, whose head still rested on her shoulder. Gently, she brushed her sister’s hair back from her face.
Then her eyes fell on the black book by Nelda’s feet. No, not a book—a journal.
Careful not to disturb her sisters, Mikira picked up the journal and laid it open in her lap. It was soft, supple leather, the first page inscribed with her father’s name in careful script.
The first entry was dated nearly a year ago, marking the journal as one in a series. She flipped through the pages, scanning through aimless thoughts littered with information on enchantments and research into magical animals before finding the latest entry.
It was dated two months ago, the day before Rezek had taken him away.
I’m sure of it now: there’s a fifth stone. How else to explain the enchantment on Mikira’s knives? A charm to carry out their owner’s intentions is surely ethereal, though well beyond anything I’ve witnessed, but the one that would bind the blades to her alone?
It’s the bloodstones.
The journal slipped from Mikira’s hands. She was right—her bloodhadtriggered the bloodstone link. She’d been clinging to some thread of hope that Gren’s death wasn’t her fault, that she’d tried to stop it, but the knives said otherwise. If they were truly enchanted to carry out her intentions, then that meant some part of her, no matter how small, had wanted Gren dead.
And the knife had made it happen.
Was that how the knife had appeared in her hand in the final stretch, only to vanish when she realized she couldn’t be found with it? Reid hadn’t said anything to her about it, but he’d been occupied with getting back to the finish line and may not have noticed the blade’s brief disappearance.
Mikira held out a hand. She’d left the blades in her saddle bag in the barn, but if she was right, then she had only to will them to her. Feeling slightly foolish, she called to them—and watched them materialize in her hand.
“Hells,” she breathed. She let her head drop back, staring at the ceiling. This was all too much, and it wasn’t over yet. There was still the closing ceremony ball, still the matter of freeing her father and seeing her funds transferred from Damien. Reid hadn’t told him what she’d done yet, but who knew if that would change.
She had conned one of the most dangerous men in all of Enderlain. She’d won an unwinnable race. Against all odds, she’d saved her family.
She would weather this too, and come whatever may, she would take care of it herself.
CHAPTER 46
ARIELLE
THEY CELEBRATED LATEinto the night.
The pub was alive with music and dancing and drinks, and she recognized the faces of everyone from Adair jockeys to off-duty constables to the house’s district tenants. Damien circulated through them all, shaking hands and accepting congratulations and requests to meet with the grace of a king. She’d been on his arm for nearly an hour, and never once did he forget to introduce her like a queen.
Mikira’s absence was the only mark on the night. Damien had sent a messenger at Ari’s behest, and Mikira had replied that she intended to stay home for the evening, but Ari wished she’d come. Everything they celebrated tonight was in large part due to her, and Ari missed having her there.
“He’s going to have to pay for the fallout of Loic’s move tonight,” Ari said, now sequestered by the fire with Reid. They were both watching Damien in conversation with a retired general by the bar.
Reid snorted, half-slumped in his armchair. “As long as Loic pays for it more, it’s worth it.”
Ari studied his feigned nonchalance with a critical eye. “What did he do to you?”
He was silent at first, tracing the lines of one tattoo up his forearm, andcoming to a stop at a particularly knotted mess of ink that resembled a crow. “When we were younger, he and his friends thought it funny to lock me in an old mausoleum. They left me there for nearly two days, refusing to tell Damien where I was. Eventually I was able to break the glass and climb out, but I cut my arms up doing it.”
That was where the tattoos came from—they were covering the scars.
“A game,” Ari whispered. That’s what Loic had called it. Perhaps he’d gotten what he deserved. “But how did the Anthir know what Loic had done to Eradas?”
“Shira must have had the Anthir following him,” he said. “But pulled them back when you and Damien engaged Rezek.”
So that they wouldn’t witness anything they shouldn’t. But why see one brother arrested and prevent the other? Did Shira care for Damien that much more?
