Page 137 of As Above, So Below

Eve scoffs a dark laugh, shaking her head. “You can’t be serious, Artemise. Please tell me this truly isn’t what Celesta has asked.”

“The ritual requires the use of blood magic, Eve,” Artemise says, her voice going cold and firm. “And without the Sovereign King’s approval, it cannot happen. This ritual has to take place. It’s Celesta’s only opportunity where everything she needs aligns. I would rather not contest King Alaryc, but I will if I have to.”

“Blood magic?” I repeat as I try to wrap my mind around a conversation where I’m missing critical pieces. “Blood magic is outlawed across Eldoterra. Why would Celesta require the use of blood magic in a ritual?”

Artemise levels a stern glare in my direction. “Curses forged in blood can only be broken by blood.”

And I am Celesta’s blood.

She really does seek to break her contract with Netharis.

What blood magic ritual does she know that I don’t? I’ve spent centuries studying and learning dark arts meant for creatures of death. And would any ritual be stronger than the bindings of the god of death?

The night of Celesta’s ascension and the ritual conducted then comes to mind. My brows shoot high. Artemise sacrificed—killed—the man upon the altar to draw down the moon goddess. All the remaining years of his life in exchange for a few moments to see her.

“No.” As I shake my head, my spine straightens. “I will not return to the hells.”

“No one is going to return you to Netharis, my child.” Artemise leans, stretching an arm across the table toward me. “You are protected here. Celesta is asking you to return the parts of her she’s given you.”

What does that even mean?

Whatpartshas she given me?

As the words sink into my brain, a male voice cuts across the garden.

“High Priestess.”

Following the source of the sound, my head swivels left. A tall fae in silver armor emerges through the sanctum doors into the open space. Sharp lavender eyes scan the garden, catching on our table as Artemise stands from her seat.

No one else dares to move as the Captain of the Royal Guard strides swiftly toward us. Behind him, rows of royal guard stream into the garden and people begin to take notice.

“What is even happening right now?” Eve whispers in disbelief beside me.

“Captain Cyran,” Artemise greets with sugared tones and a smile. “What is the meaning of this?” She peers past him at the dozens of guard.

Cyran. The same guard who chased me through the South Ward. He’s tall. Taller than Ryc, and Ryc has me by at least a foot.

“Sovereign King Alaryc has set a decree.”

All the blood in my body pools in my feet. Eve’s hand finds my bicep where she grips me tightly, neither of us able to tear our eyes away from Cyran, waiting for his next words.

He removes his silver helmet, revealing a handsome russet face and curling lavender hair. Tucking it under his arm, he pulls a folded note from a pouch at his waist beside his sword and extends it to Artemise. She takes it.

“The temple will be under royal guard until further notice.” The tone he uses doesn’t invite argument.

I almost heave a sigh of relief. It’s not an order to be brought to the castle. Beside me, Eve’s eyes slide to mine. Her expression tells me she still has reservations.

Hastily, Artemise breaks the seal and unfolds the note. Her scowl grows deeper with each passing second. She refolds the note and huffs a sigh.

“This is unnecessary, Captain.” She gives the note an agitated shake. “Celesta keeps her devoted safe. The wards are infallible—”

Ignoring her, Cyran gestures with a point and the guards behind him disperse. They move through the garden, pairs posting themselves at each entrance. Others continue into the temple itself.

“High Priestess,” the Captain of the Guard shifts his weight, “it isin the interest of the Sovereign King to ensure Vestaris Moonshadow remains safeguarded against threats—”

“This vampire attack in the Twilight Mire isn’t a concern!” Artemise interjects, her voice growing wild.

“Both outside of the temple and within,” Cyran finishes despite the interruption.