Page 24 of Cursed (Wicked Heirs #2)

My mind swirled with dark thoughts as shadows twisted through the room.

I sat at the vanity. The Bloodstone Grimoire lay open before me, its pages whispered to me—and the secrets I could scarcely comprehend only a few days ago had begun to reveal themselves to me. The cryptic symbols glinted under the soft glow of the candles I’d lit, but they seemed to taunt me as my fingertips traced their jagged lines. A pulse of power thrummed through my veins—three distinct beats aside from that of my own heart—

The power I had stolen from my stepbrothers had woven around the magic that flowed through me, and now I worked feverishly to harness it.

But every page I turned felt like failure, and each time I drew the blackened silver dagger across my skin, the secrets revealed on the ancient pages offered no comfort and no solution.

With every delicate brush of my skin against the parchment, the unsettling whispers grew louder and coiled around me like tendrils of smoke—seductive and sinister. I read ancient spells filled with forbidden magic that promised the strength and control I yearned for, but I couldn’t forget the price it demanded. Each of my stepbrothers had been gifted this book—and each of them had bent it to their will. The horrifying images inked on the pages described painful rites that would strip a sorcerer of their power, and with it their life. Their soul.

That was how they had enhanced their powers—that was how Lucian had grown so powerful and taken control of the Necromi.

Of all Messana.

A sharp knock shattered my concentration and echoed through the stillness like a thunderclap.

I jerked back, breath caught in my throat, as the grimoire momentarily released its hold on me.

I waited, hoping that it was just my imagination—but the knock echoed again.

Harder this time.

“Avril?” Titus’s voice was muffled by the door.

Gods, he was strong. How could he get this close?

“Just— hang on,” I called out. I slapped the grimoire shut, though the image of the swirling sigils burned behind my eyelids. I took a breath, rubbed my palms against my thighs, and walked across the room to unlock the door. I forced a smile onto my lips, but I could feel how unsteady it was.

He stood on the threshold, his hands flexing at his sides.

“Titus—” I feigned surprise. I hadn’t seen him since the seduction in the library… when I’d stolen his magic.

In a brief moment of panic, I wondered if he could sense it on me.

Or if he could remember what had happened— I was hopeful that the spell had wiped their memories, but I couldn’t be sure. Not really.

“What— What do you want?”

“I want to talk to you,” he said. He moved to step into the room, but the sigils stopped him and he frowned. “Will you invite me in?”

“Oh— I’m sorry, someone must have refreshed the sigils… I didn’t realize.” I stepped back and nodded as my magic rose inside me—original and stolen. “You can come in.”

His mouth twisted, but after a moment, Titus stepped inside. His dark gaze swept over the room, and surprise flickered in his expression as he sensed the strength of the enchantments, and I hoped he wouldn’t question their origin.

“You’ve been busy,” he said. His voice was stiff, but the rumble of it sent a chill down my spine and tightened my stomach.

“Maybe,” I replied and forced nonchalance into my tone. His hand twitched, and the door swung closed behind him.

“You’re studying the grimoire,” he said. “I recall I offered to help you—”

“You did,” I replied.

Gods, he didn’t remember.

Or was he testing me?

“I remember,” I said. “I wanted to figure it out for myself.”

“And how is that working for you?” His question was casual as he sauntered toward the vanity.

“It’s— it’s working fine. But— Why would you want to help me?” I asked, as suspicion coiled around me.

Maybe he was testing me.

“Because,” he said as his fingers trailed over the edge of the vanity. I winced as he paused—my blood stained the wood from where I’d cut myself to reveal the grimoire’s secrets. “I know what it’s like to be wound up in the darkness of this book. But you don’t need to struggle with it— My brothers and I, we’ve stained these pages with our blood, too.”

In that moment, something shifted within me and I thought I saw a flicker of vulnerability in his expression—a crack in his cold exterior—and then it was gone.

All at once, an image flashed through my mind—I had imagined it, dreamed of it—my father’s last moments and his desperate pleas for mercy as Lucian stood over him.

“I don’t need your help,” I snapped.

My heart thudded violently against my ribs. If I let myself entertain his offer, if I acknowledged the spark of empathy that ignited in the depths of my heart, I’d risk everything.

But I couldn’t stop the swirl of longing and dark lust that being near him awakened in me.

“Let me prove myself,” he said as he stepped closer.

As he approached, a new awareness rose over my shoulders—I could sense his emotions… His intentions… And I couldn’t ignore the sincerity that was woven into his words. But there was something else, too. Desperation.

My eyes narrowed.

But why? What did he really want?

Could I use this against him? For my own ends?

I had used him once—all of them. I had used their lust for me to get what I wanted.

Could I do it again?

The notion was both thrilling and terrifying.

If I could harness his guilt, his magic, perhaps I could shift the balance of power in my favor. The thought sent a rush of adrenaline through me.

“Help me decipher it— There has to be more in those pages. More than what I’ve already unlocked… And then maybe I’ll consider…” I trailed off and Titus’ eyes narrowed.

“Maybe you’ll consider what?” he pressed. A challenge flared in his eyes, embers of something deeper that threatened to ignite between us.

“Maybe… I’ll consider trusting you,” I replied, though every fiber of my being screamed against it. “But I have to think about it.”

I expected him to argue, but Titus only nodded and walked toward the door.

The whispers of the grimoire rose in my mind—as though it applauded my decision. I wondered if Titus could hear them, too.

Manipulating my stepbrothers had already brought me more power than I could handle— But maybe they would be the key to what I truly sought…

Freedom.

Freedom from this place.

From Lucian.

From everything I feared.

* * *

The library was dim, and shadows curled around the towering shelves like hungry wraiths. They seemed to follow me everywhere now—but I wasn’t frightened of them anymore. I sat nestled between the shelves, lost in the musty pages of an ancient tome that I had remembered from the library at the academy—but the contents were much different.

Perhaps Lucian was right, perhaps the Sages were keeping knowledge from us…

Or were these the lies?

My fingers traced the jagged edges of the parchment as I read, but my thoughts drifted—lost in the whispers of the grimoire that followed me everywhere. Their constant buzz had become both a comfort and a curse.

“Avril?”

I sat up straighter in my chair.

Valen.

His tousled brown hair caught the faint light like an ethereal halo. He hesitated—I could feel his apprehension. And, just like Titus, something more.

“Valen, you don’t have to lurk…”

His presence was magnetic, and I swung my legs out of the chair as he approached. I wanted to be close to him, even as unease coiled tighter in my gut.

He crossed the room with fluid grace and his eyes flickered over me.

“I wondered if you’d be here,” he said.

His voice was steady, yet I could hear the same tone of desperation I had detected in Titus’ voice only a few days before.

What was going on?

I closed the book and met his eyes. “Do you need something?”

He hesitated again. “I wanted to offer my help.”

“Help?” I echoed, and I couldn’t stop the skepticism from creeping into my tone. “I don’t need your help…”

What did he want from me?

As much as I wanted to trust him, I couldn’t push aside the danger that followed behind him.

“You do,” he said firmly. “With the grimoire,” he clarified as he took a few cautious steps closer. “I know it can be overwhelming. The grimoire is strange—” He tapped his fingers against the side of his head. “The whispers— they never really go away.”

My lips pressed together, and I said nothing.

Valen didn’t seem disturbed by my silence. “I thought… I thought you might want my help. I’ve used the grimoire before. It— It is a powerful book. With many hidden secrets.”

“I know,” I murmured.

“Maybe I can help you make sense of it. Before—”

There was something in his voice I didn’t like. “Before what?”

In that moment, I caught glimpses of his past—memories interwoven with cruelty and moments stolen from innocence. I felt the sting of his regrets brush against my mind. The echoes of laughter turned harsh, the pain of a bond that had twisted over time. Yet beneath it all, there was a flicker of something softer—a protective instinct that flared to life whenever he thought of me.

“Before what?” I pressed.

Valen blinked, and I wondered if he was aware of what I’d seen—or if he’d sensed the unintentional intrusion at all.

“Before— Avril, I just want to protect you,” he said.

“Protect me?” I scoffed. But I couldn’t dismiss the warmth that gathered in my chest at his words. There was sincerity in his words, and despite myself, I said, “What makes you think I would ever trust you?”

“Maybe I don’t deserve it,” he replied, and his shoulders slumped slightly. “But please, let me try.”

The pull between us was undeniable, a silent thread that bound our fates together, even as I plotted to use him and his brothers against their own father.

“I’ll think about it,” I said.

Valen nodded. “I’ll be waiting,” he said. “You know where to find me.”

He walked away and left me with the flickering candles and the fire that burned low in the hearth.

The shadows grew around me and the whispers of the grimoire fell into place just behind my thoughts.

I felt like I was living the same moments over and over— Not so long ago, each of my stepbrothers had offered me their help to decipher the grimoire’s secrets. But that was different. When they had come to me before, I’d been afraid.

But even though I could sense that they still wanted something from me— Now I was the one in control.

I was the one with the agenda. An agenda that was more powerful than theirs.

And they couldn’t do anything to stop me.

Not now.

Later, as I walked back to my room, my focus remained tangled in thoughts of Valen—his sincerity, his regrets—even though I had clouded their memories with the spell I cast, and I wondered if my angry pleas had truly reached them. It was the only way to explain their sudden change of heart. Even Titus had seemed different… What it really meant was that I wasn’t helpless anymore.

Had Bastian had these same thoughts?

As though I’d summoned him from the darkness, Bastian emerged from the shadows like a specter.

In the daylight, his appearance was angelic—but in the shadows that wreathed the hallway and coiled around us, he was anything but.

Though I feared all three of my stepbrothers, Bastian was the one who was the most unpredictable.

Even with my newly stolen magic, I was still in awe of him, and I worried he could see through all of it.

He had been the hardest to subdue—and I had been the sickest and most overwhelmed by the power I’d stolen from him.

Were his memories as foggy as Titus and Valen’s?

“Have you come to haunt me, too?” I asked.

His pale eyes flickered with an intensity that made my skin prickle. He stepped forward, confidence radiating off him, yet there was an underlying humility in his demeanor that caught me off guard.

“Only if you’ll let me,” he replied, a smirk playing on his lips.

Something twisted in my stomach, but I didn’t have time to give in to such things. Not now.

“What do you want?”

Was my voice really as unsteady as it sounded?

“Just to offer my help, sister,” he said smoothly. “The grimoire can be… difficult to control. I don’t want you to struggle with it needlessly. It nearly took Valen… he probably wouldn’t want me to tell you that, but he wasn’t strong enough.”

“Until he was,” I said.

Bastian nodded. “Until the grimoire forced him to be.” His pale eyes narrowed as he looked at me, and I worried he could hear the desperate pound of my heart. “I can help, you know.”

I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms defensively over my chest. “What’s in it for you?” I retorted.

“Look, I know I haven’t been the best brother,” he said as he stepped closer, and I could have sworn that his expression shifted to one of sincerity—but only for a moment. “But I’m willing to make amends. Let me assist you.”

“Why should I trust you?”

He shrugged. “Maybe you shouldn’t… But I can help you. You won’t be able to unlock the grimoire’s secrets on your own. I only showed you how to open the door—”

“I don’t need your help,” I countered. “The grimoire is a challenge— but I have to navigate it on my own. Isn’t that the point? I’m supposed to… rise to meet it? Or something?”

Bastian chuckled. “Rise or drown,” he said.

“Is that a threat?” I shot back, trying to swallow down the surge of fear his words ignited in me.

“No, it’s a promise.” His smirk faded, and for the first time since I had arrived at Withermarsh, I saw a hint of sincerity in Bastian’s pale eyes. “A challenge, like you said... But you don’t need to face it alone.”

I stared back at him, and my mind raced as I weighed the risks involved in accepting his offer. He had been hard to overpower, and it had taken so much effort to contain and restrain him while the spell took hold—

Could I do it again? I couldn’t suppress the shiver that passed through me.

I needed all three of them on my side.

His pale eyes flashed with what seemed like genuine concern, and I drew a shallow breath. His help was tempting, but if I took it, I risked putting myself back in his control. Despite my stolen magic, I was still walking on thin ice.

“I’ll think about it,” I said tersely.

He held the gaze a moment longer before nodding solemnly. “I’ll be waiting,” he said.

With that, he turned and disappeared into the shadows as quickly as he had appeared.

As I watched him go, my mind clouded with doubt and uncertainty.

Even though all three of them had agreed to help me with the grimoire, I wondered what they sought in return.

Unsteady now, I made my way through the house and back up the grand staircase to the safety of my bedroom.

As the door creaked shut behind me, a suffocating silence swallowed the sound of the latch as it clicked into place—had it always been so quiet in here? It was as though the sigils I’d laid on the doorway kept everything out...

Good.

I stepped toward my vanity, where the Bloodstone Grimoire lay open upon its surface—a ravenous beast begging to be tamed. My heart thrummed against my ribcage as I approached it, drawn into its magnetic pull.

With a flick of my fingers, the candles ignited. I allowed myself a smile as they sparked and flickered—I’d never been able to do that before. I had been denied such a simple thing.

But as quickly as they flared to life, the warmth of the candlelight seemed to be absorbed by the ancient parchment.

I traced my fingertips along the faded sigils and smiled as their texture became rough and alive beneath my touch. Whispers flickered from the pages, ghostly tendrils curling around my mind.

Whatever knowledge I had dragged from these ancient pages—I knew there was more hidden deep within it.

I hated to admit that my stepbrothers were right—but there was more I could learn. More power to unlock.

What if different information was provided to each sorcerer who touched these pages? Or did the grimoire only reveal what it wanted… What the sorcerer needed most? I’d needed the resurrection spell—and the magical hemorrhage…

Had the grimoire guided my hand and led me down this path—a path I couldn’t turn from now.

The book I’d been reading in the library had suggested as much—but there was no way to know if it was true.

I saw different things in the grimoire after absorbing my stepbrothers’ magic than I had seen with my own power—but what else was hidden from me?

What had my mother unlocked?

And my father? What had he seen that had led him to betray Lucian?

The grimoire’s whispers intensified, a swirling vortex of arcane words and chilling premonitions in my mind. I shut my eyes tight, determined to reclaim my thoughts.

I had to harness this power—not just for myself, but to dismantle Lucian’s grip on my life.

Titus, Valen, and Bastian— what about them?

As much as I had tried to forget, I couldn’t deny that each brother held a piece of my heart—guilt-ridden pieces I could use as leverage. The spell I had invoked bound me to them... and their power mingled with mine.

But I needed to keep them at arm’s length while drawing them closer.

Could I really do it? Could I convince them to betray their own father for my sake?

A shiver ran down my spine as I imagined wielding the power of the grimoire against Lucian—the way its dark magic would course through me and fill me with purpose and cruel power.

What if they tried to stop me?

“But what if they helped?” the grimoire whispered.

Lucian was the true enemy, a tyrant ruling with an iron fist.

My father had tried it—he had dared to stand against Lucian.

But he had failed.

What if I could do it?

What if I could become the weapon that shattered his dominion?

“Lucian will fall,” I whispered, “and I will be the one to take him down.”

It was a new thought—but a sudden one.

Escape was my goal. But if I escaped without removing Lucian from his position of power, there was no doubt in my mind that he would come after me. Nowhere would be safe. And when he caught me, and he would, I would be the newest addition to the horrifying portrait of tortured souls on the wall of his study.

I swallowed hard as the grimoire conjured terrifying images in my mind of the torture I would be subjected to if I failed.

The triumphant expression on Lucian’s sharply angled face.

The utter glee in his pale, dead eyes.

I couldn’t fail.

My life depended on it.