Donatella,
I’ll get the blood, and I’ll be careful, but whatever you’re doing—be quick. In three days’ time, the Fallen Star plans to make his claim for the throne. He’s bragged to me that his Fates will continue to torment the city. When he makes his first public appearance, he wants the people of Valenda to beg him to claim the throne and replace the Fates who killed Legend. No one will think to complain that he’s crowned himself emperor until it’s too late.
All my love,
S
* * *
38
Donatella
Tella had naively imagined that the Immortal Library would be as easy to find as the Vanished Market had been. It was almost as laughable as the idea that the word easy still remained in her vocabulary.
She gave a delicate snort.
If Legend heard it, he didn’t react. His broad shoulders didn’t shift, and his dark head didn’t turn away from the waters of the cracked fountain he’d been staring into—the same fountain they’d kissed in front of on the night Tella realized she was falling in love with him.
If only falling out of love with him was as easy.
She’d never before wanted to stop loving Legend. But today, she kept thinking about what Jacks had tried to offer as they searched the decrepit columns that surrounded the ruins of the Cursed Wife. He didn’t have his full powers, so he couldn’t actually take away any of Tella’s emotions for longer than a day or truly change her feelings, but she was a little tempted by the idea of feeling indifferent, rather than feeling everything.
She knew Legend remembered the night he’d carried her here and then kissed her until she’d forgotten her pain. If she closed her eyes, she could recall it all. She could remember the way he’d carried her to the mossy steps before the ruins, how they’d talked of their pasts, and then how they’d kissed. She could remember the soft, asking sensation of his lips against her mouth and her neck and the rough way his hands had dug into the rope around her waist, pulling her even closer to him as he whispered how much he wanted her.
He had to remember. But he refused to look at her. He practically treated her like a stranger. It was the same this morning at the other ruins they’d visited. When he spoke, it was either in short answers to one of her questions, or terse commands.
It was unfair that out of all the plans Tella had recently made, the only one that had worked involved pushing him away. She thought she could handle Legend not loving her, but she wasn’t doing very well with the idea of him despising her.
She circled the fountain again, even though they’d already scoured these ruins for images that might have represented the Immortal Library and led her to the Ruscica. They’d taken turns dripping blood on anything that appeared symbolic. But either the entrance of the Immortal Library wasn’t here, or it would take more than blood to open it.
Legend raked a hand through his dark hair before finally turning away from the fountain and silently starting toward the crumbling steps that led back down to the streets. They were both dressed in the sort of ordinary clothes that made people easy to overlook. Tella was wearing a short-sleeved dress the color of muddy lake water, while Legend wore simple brown pants and a homespun shirt with fraying sleeves—yet the bastard still managed to move with the arrogance of someone who knew eyes would turn his way no matter what he wore. His steps possessed the sort of confidence that some people searched their whole lives for.
“Are you coming?” he said, tone gruff, as he reached the top of the stairs.
“Depends on where you’re going.” The voice that traveled up from the base of the steps below them was crystallized loveliness, clear and delicate and unbreakably strong.
Tella swept closer just to hear it better. Legend tried to step in front of her, but Tella had to see who the voice belonged to.
The woman who appeared at the top of the steps was almost as pretty as the sound of her words. A gauzy peach dress billowed above the cracked ground as she moved, the same way the Maiden Death’s tattered gown had, as if a magical breeze followed wherever she went. She stood taller than Legend. Her skin was pale and hard as marble, her hair nearly shorn to the scalp, and on top of her head rested a thin gold circlet, which made her look like an ancient princess.
“Aren’t you a handsome one?” she said to Legend in that same hypnotic voice.
He replied with an irresistible smile. “Most people think so.”
“Do you think so?” The entrancing woman turned back to Tella.
But as soon as she had asked her question, all Tella could see were images of Legend. She pictured him during Caraval, when he’d waited for her in front of the Temple of the Stars, with only a wide cloth wrapped around his lower half, revealing his glorious chest in all its sculpted splendor.
“You should see him without a shirt on. He’s magnificent.” Tella’s mouth hung open as soon as the words were out. She didn’t even know this woman. And she wasn’t supposed to be in love with Legend anymore.
But Legend didn’t smirk or grin as he normally might have. In fact, he looked murderous.
The woman laughed, the sound as captivating as her voice. It begged Tella to laugh with her. But this time Tella fought against the urge to give in as she took in the woman’s appearance once more. Tella’s eyes darted back up to the circlet around her head. It was covered in ancient symbols, which Tella couldn’t read, but she imagined that if she could have deciphered them, the symbols would have told her that this woman wasn’t an ancient princess, but the Fated Priestess, Priestess.
Her magic was in her voice. That’s why Tella had answered her so honestly. Whenever Priestess, Priestess asked a question, a person had the choice between answering it truthfully or fighting the question and dying. Her voice wasn’t just compelling, it was deadly.
“I can already see that playing with you two is going to be fun,” said the Fate. “Would you like to stay here and play with me?”