Fire and Bone (Otherborn #1)(71)

Goddess, don’t let it work.

She unties the ribbon and opens the bag, then tips it over her palm. A medallion on a chain tumbles out. A necklace. But as she holds it up, I realize it’s so much more than that.

It’s Queen Lily’s torque. The ancient piece of jewelry was forged out of bronze metal, an intricate knotted design for fire woven in the circle, and an amber stone embedded in the center with a small moth preserved inside.

A piece of history that hasn’t been seen for centuries.

“It was your sister’s, long ago,” Kieran says to her.

“Where did you get that?” I ask, my harsh tone breaking the moment. I glare at Kieran, daring him to tell the truth. “That belongs to the House of Brighid.” It disappeared from the vault around the time of Queen Lily’s imprisonment. Marius assumed the goddess had taken it back, since the legend was that she’d given it to her first daughter personally. What is Kieran playing at?

Kieran ignores my objection. “I hope you’re pleased, princess. I know the torque you’re wearing is weak, and your power can be . . . unpredictable.”

Sage’s fingers shake as she drops the necklace back into the black bag. “Thank you,” she says, barely audible. She clenches the bag in her fist.

Princess Mara nods in satisfaction, and Kieran bows again. Just before they walk away, he turns to me, his eyes hardening in warning as he says under his breath, “Keep her safe for us, hunter.”

I glare back at him, forcing myself not to put a dent in his smug face. He’s a pompous ass, thinking Sage is his because of some forgotten ancient right. She’s not a toy for him to play with. Fortunately, he leaves, following Mara and the rest of the dark clan.

Sage releases her breath and deflates a little, leaning on me for a second.

“You all right?” I ask, trying to gauge her reaction.

She presses her fingers into her temples, shaking her head. “I feel like I’m gonna be sick.”

The pixie, Brea, leaps to her feet, bowing in front of Sage. “May I fetch you some poultice for your ailment, princess?”

Sage cringes back, her mouth open, like she’s not sure how to react.

This isn’t going to work. “That would be lovely, Brea,” I say. “The princess will have the winter mint, though,” I add, hoping to be rid of her quickly.

The pixie looks from me to Sage, but when Sage doesn’t say anything she must decide her princess is agreeing, because she stands, bowing again, then scuttles off to make her useless poultice. We’ll only be able to avoid her for so long, I’m guessing. “That should keep her busy,” I say to Sage once the pixie is out of earshot.

She just goes back to massaging her temples and groans.

“You did well,” I add, hoping to lift the misty cloud that’s filtering from her shoulders.

She shakes her head, looking lost. “I’ll never get used to this. It’s all so flashy. And proper. And how am I supposed to remember all those names and faces? Prince of this, queen of that. Holy Moses.”

“If it matters to them, they’ll make sure you don’t forget.” I decide not to tell her how much she’ll wish she could forget some of them soon. I’m guessing she’s already wishing that. Instead I ask, “Would you like to freshen up?”

She gives me a hopeful look. “Oh yes, please. Just make sure the bathroom has a window I can escape through.”





TWENTY-SEVEN

SAGE

I lean on the counter in the bathroom, pleading with my panicked insides to calm down.

What is wrong with me? I can’t understand why I was so shaken by Kieran again. And this time was so much worse. When he whispered to me, I heard a familiar voice. I wanted to do what he said, and I wanted to hear him say my name. It was horrible and wrong, and the things my mind pictured . . .

I reach up and touch the thin scar on my neck, reminding myself what he did to me, how much I hate him. Because I do; I hate him with the power of a thousand suns. Even more than I hated him this morning. He makes me feel vulnerable and weak. He takes away my will.

And even more frightening, I know he can see it. He’s doing it on purpose.

I wonder if it’s some twisted form of revenge for what my sister did, killing his brother.

I’m still gripping the small black velvet bag in my hand, the medallion on the torque digging into my palm. A torque that belonged to my sister. My sister who’s in goddess hell because she killed millions.

But strangely, relief filled me when it fell from the bag into my palm. And in spite of what my sister was, I want to be wearing it right this second, as if it’s actually mine—as if it’s something I lost, thrilled to have found it again. It’s a bad feeling. I shouldn’t be glad at anything Kieran does.

I look up and study my reflection in the mirror. The painted crescent moon on my brow has dried to a crimson brown.

I have Faelan’s blood on my forehead. Someone else’s blood is on my skin. And I just let him put it on me.

The sensation of it still buzzes in my temples. The smell of him in my head like new life. Like warm grass and rich earth. Strong and comforting.

I breathe in the scent and let it fill me, pushing all thoughts of Kieran from my mind.

I’m loving the smell of someone’s blood. I’m buying into the madness.