Page 50 of A Crown of Tears and Treason (The Curse of Silver Secrets and Cruel Shadows #1)

Chapter

Fifty

EVIE

“ I want you to get me a carriage. Have it waiting for me at the end of the road, the night before the wedding. Ask around, anyone and everyone. Find me the biggest one, and let it be known it’s an emergency.” I opened the satchel, gingerly taking out the scrolls one by one and placing them on the library table, as Goose and Leesa looked at me like I’d lost my mind.

Perhaps I had.

Leesa was the first one to speak. “Your Grace…why? I’ve been reading up on Protectorate wedding rituals and I haven’t seen anything about the new couple leaving right after the ceremony. You will go on your official visit to the outskirts of the Clan with His Highness, but that happens much later. Though, I’m sure if you tell the prince you’d like to introduce a new ritual–”

“You don’t need to tell the prince about this.” To make more room on the table, I closed the portal books that connected me to my cousins, now sadly completely dormant. They each had their own issues and fiances to deal with right now, just like I had my own little mission. Pieces of a larger puzzle we all had to uncover and gather together to save the Protectorate without anyone discovering our plan.

I stacked the books on the closest shelf, making sure they were perfectly aligned and ready for our next conversation, though gods knew when that might happen.

When I turned, Goose and Leesa were watching me with a horrified look.

“Just find the carriage,” I said. “Trust me, it’s important.”

Trust me , Valuta’s voice slithered in my mind, and I suppressed a shiver.

Zandyr’s presence pulsed against thoughts, caressing, as if he’d sensed my turmoil and was checking if everything was alright. I sent a reassuring ripple as a reply, hoping he wouldn’t barge his way here just to confirm I was safe. He had too many important things to do, all that once, everyone pulling him in all directions. Constantly. Right now, he had to plan a new watch schedule at the borders. His informants foretold another skirmish with the Serpents, and with both of us leaving the safety of Phoenix Peak’s walls, even for half a day, he wasn’t taking any chances.

I felt a shadow of relief from his side. Perfect.

Time was ticking.

I rested my fists on top of the table, nodding at the scrolls. “I am not leaving Phoenix Peak tomorrow without opening at least one of them.”

Goose and Leesa exchanged a worried look. They were so cute together, even with apprehension brewing between them.

“I have a hunch and I want to either confirm it–” And never sleep a day in my life again. “–or put it to rest. Are you helping me or not?”

They gave me twin nods, less hesitant. Perhaps using my queenly voice was useful.

The three of us stared down at the scrolls, just like we’d been doing every day since I’d stolen them.

We’d tried incantations Goose had found in dusty books. Leesa had tried imbuing the library with special unlocking ointments. We’d even attempted to unfurl them gently, with no luck.

At one point, we’d even considered steaming the damn things open–they came from a Clan that reveled in dampness, it wasn’t that far-fetched.

Nothing worked.

They sat there, mocking us with their obstinate crispness.

“Perhaps we need a spell we simply haven’t found yet,” Leesa ventured, biting her bottom lip; Goose was so concentrated on the scrolls, he didn’t even blush at the movement.

“Would the Quoriliths have a special spell to open their scrolls?” I began to pace, hands clasped behind me.

“ If these scrolls belong to the Quoriliths,” Leesa said.

The awful truth. We still didn’t know if I’d risked my life for nothing. They might as well have been ancient stew recipes for all we knew. Until we found out who they belonged to, I clung to the hope I’d found the right texts.

“Let’s say they are true Quorilith writings.” They certainly reeked of havoc and chaos and the last thing I needed was more doubt. “How. Do. We. Open. Them?”

Silence, ugly and fuming with defeat, settled over us. Neither of us were versed in Quorolith magic, what if it obeyed the newer Clan rules of a magic-wielder teaching you the spells?

If Leesa dug her teeth into her lower lip any harder, she might swallow it whole. The wrinkles on Goose’s forehead were getting deeper and more concerning. His mouth was constricting by the second, eyes bulging as he kept on staring.

“Think, think, think,” I whispered, my pacing turning hectic. “Protectorate would protect a text with a spell–”

“Blood Brotherhood does that, too, but we also use sacred herbs or any natural thing with sap. To make it flow and stick,” Leesa said. “And the Morgana Clan uses hair and skin for theirs.”

That sounded horrifying, but logical.

“Each Clan is messed up in its own ways.” There was an answer, just as the edge of my thoughts. I could feel it. “Each has its signature. Protectorate Protects. Blood Brotherhood relies on living things. What do we know about the Quoriliths?”

Leesa shivered. “Vicious. Deadly. Terrifying.”

On the surface. The superficial things people saw at a glance, not the howl of the sea breeze between the branches or the sandy scent it drafted into the forest.

“They were ruthless.” I slowed my steps. “They destroyed their own lands to get revenge on their enemies and traitors. With blood and–”

Goose gasped, snapping out the trance.

“Your Grace, give me your switchblade,” he said, voice filled with the tremble of possibility. “Please.”

He didn’t need to ask twice. I flicked my only weapon out of the bracelet and just handed it to him. Trust went both ways.

Goose swallowed thickly under our waiting gazes. He opened the blade and wrapped his left palm around it. With a hiss between his teeth, Goose swished the weapon, cutting his hand.

Drops of blood began to trickle. With heavy breaths, Goose raised his palm over the closest scroll. The one that reeked the most.

One.

Two.

Three drops of his blood fell onto the dry parchment. As fast as they fell, they vanished. Sucked right into the ravenous parchment, as if it had been thirsting for eons.

“A sacrifice for Quorilith knowledge,” Goose uttered, completely still.

A breeze blew from the window, straight into the scroll.

Nobody breathed as the second ticked by.

It had to work. It needed–

With a creak, the scroll began to unfurl.

“It worked!” Leesa cried out. She jumped and wrapped her arms around Goose’s neck. Goose blinked away his stupor, shaky hands slowly curling over her back.

“Well done, Goose,” I said as they unraveled, her with a huge smile, and him much redder. “I knew you had it in you.”

“Right?” Leesa beamed. “He’s super smart.”

She took off the ribbon in her hair, blonde curls falling around her shoulders, and coiled it around his palm, patching his wound. And Goose, gods help him, sat there, not seeming to know what to do with himself.

“Thanks,” he mumbled at last with a small smile. Then he went back into that super serious, focused state.

With steady hands, he gently tugged on one end of the scroll, Leesa grasping the other. My fingers twitched to touch it, but I waited.

And waited as the parchment’s creaks and crinkles rang out in the library, matching my rapid breathing. This was it. I hadn’t risked my life for nothing. I’d get what I’d been so desperate for all these months.

Answers .

Inch by inch, the two of them unwound the worn, yellowed paper, with blue splotches at its torn edges.

The anticipation evaporated just like the blood drops as the scroll lay before us, open and bare . There was nothing written on the parchment.

Leesa and I gave twin sighs. Disappointment beat inside of me. “Maybe we need another spell for the words or symbols to show.”

If there were any to be found. It could’ve been a decoy or simply a piece of paper someone had thought to save before the entire Quorilith Clan dissipated.

“What are you talking about?” Goose stared at the parchment, mesmerized. “They’re here. The scroll is full of symbols. Or letters, I can’t really tell. But they’re here.”

With a frown, I stepped right beside him, but no matter how hard I looked or squinted my eyes, nothing appeared. “I can’t see anything.”

“Neither can I.” Leesa sniffed. “Maybe only the one who made the sacrifice can see it.”

“That means…” My gaze trailed to the other scrolls. “Whoever gives their blood is the only one who would have access to all of them.”

That complicated matters.

“I can give my blood again, Your Grace, no problem,” Goose said quickly. “But the ink is already fading on this one. What if I can’t bring it back?”

Dread gripped my heart. “Can you read it?”

Goose shook his head. “I don’t think I can make sense of the letters. I’ve seen some of the symbols in ancient texts before, but I need time and resources to decipher them. Hopefully.”

“Transcribe them. Fast.”

Goose nodded, already grabbing a nearby pen. “We should wait until I crack the code for the other scrolls.”

“You’re right.” I folded my arms, thoughts running. “Write down every single symbol and share them with Leesa. Until we crack the code, nobody else touches the other scrolls.”

I didn’t trust Quorilith magic. The symbols could vanish as soon as they appeared, perhaps never to be brought out to the surface again. We couldn’t risk that. Not when we were so close. We needed a copy and a code before we moved on to the others.

“I want to know as soon as you decipher the first few words,” I said. “And look for any mention of mind-bending. Or mind reading. Or implanting thoughts and controlling emotions.”

Valuta’s voice tried to slither its way into my thoughts once again. I shook my head to cast it aside. Not now. Not when I knew we had the right scrolls and we were that much closer to finding out what in Xamor’s name was going on. Now I could leave Phoenix Peak tomorrow with the certainty that we had a lead.

Goose and Leesa frowned at me and cast a furtive glance between them, but nodded all the same.

At the fringes of my mind, I felt Zandyr’s presence growing.

I suppressed a quiver and turned, leaving Goose and Leesa to their glances and their smart ways. I trusted they could decode whatever heinous details had been hidden behind the death trap in the Archives.

“And don’t forget about that carriage,” I called from down the hallway, heart galloping.

Zandyr would be home soon, and I had to steel myself against the talk we were about to have.