I give him a slight glare, all exasperation. After the first time cutting myself with the blade, I have no interest in doing so again. I won’t find Ruvan prone in bed again, halfway to succumbing to the curse. Especially not when we’re hardly on speaking terms following the revelation of our marriage…
“We should know more what the blood silver does—or what they intended for it to do—before we experiment too far with it,” I say.
Callos leans back in his chair, folding his arms. “Sometimes, the only way to learn magic is to take a risk and get a bit bloody.”
“Speaking of getting bloody”—I leverage the opening to shift the topic—“I need both of your help.”
“With what?” Winny asks.
I hoist one of the sickles I’ve been working on. It’s far from perfect. Far from passing as a hunter’s sickle. But I want to make sure my base premise is correct before I spend my remaining days honing it. The moon is growing full and time is running out.
“We’re going to the old castle,” I announce.
