Greythorne (Bloodleaf 2)

I brought his forehead down to mine. “You told me once to stop running and finally let you find me.” Then I moved my lips to his ear and gave one last coy whisper: “So come and find me.”

Epilogue

Aurelia Altenar, princess of Renalt, was dead.

Her body was laid to rest in the crypt of the Stella Regina in the last open sarcophagus in the main circle of twelve, between the remains of the Stella Regina’s founder, Urso, and her more recently deceased friend Father Cesare. There were few in attendance: the four beautiful girls of the Quiet Canary; Conrad, the little boy with the golden curls who was also the Renaltan king; Rosetta, the wild woman of the woods with yellow eyes and hair of flame; and two young men bearing mythical-beast-shaped charms, one on a necklace chain, the other on a leather cuff. Kellan, his right arm thickly bandaged and tied up in a sling, looked away, jaw tight, as Zan, Conrad, Jessamine, and Rosetta lifted Aurelia’s body into the stone box and settled her into it, smoothing her hair around her face and settling her hands softly onto her chest.

“Do you have any last words you want to tell her, darling?” Jessamine asked, kneeling next to Conrad. “Do you want to say goodbye?”

“No,” Conrad said with a shrug. “Close it up.”

The adults exchanged surprised glances, but they did as he directed, and Aurelia’s serene face disappeared into the darkness beneath the stone-slab lid.

Kellan turned his face toward Rosetta’s shoulder. Delphinia sobbed as Lorelai and Rafaella comforted her. Jessamine took a drink of sombersweet wine and then laid the bottle at the foot of the coffin.

Zan said nothing. He just stared at the stone, measuring his breathing. One, in. Two, out. Three, in. Four, out. Behind the dark fall of his hair, his eyes glinted gold.

The somber gathering slowly dispersed, until only Conrad and Zan were left.

Conrad tugged Zan’s sleeve, producing a pointy-ended box from within his cerulean cape. With a few twists and taps, the top sprang open. Inside it was a glass vial, filled to the top with rich, red blood.

“She gave this to me,” he said, “so that I could keep it safe. And now I’m supposed to give it to you.”

Zan took the proffered gift hesitantly, letting it dangle on its cord as he stared. It was a tradition among blood mages to leave a vial of blood behind for those they loved most. A last bit of their soul, their magic.

The young king said, “She’s not dead, Zan. Not really.”

Zan put his hand on Conrad’s shoulder, crouching to look him in the eye. Carefully, he said, “It’s hard to accept. I know. But your sister . . . she’s gone.”

“She’s not gone,” Conrad said matter-of-factly. “She’s at the Assembly, sleeping. Waiting for you to wake her up.” He tilted his golden head. “I did my part. Now it’s your turn.”

Conrad shrugged Zan’s hand from his shoulder and went to catch up with the others, leaving Zan kneeling alone, shoulders slumped, next to Aurelia’s stone coffin. Her last words echoed in his head, half invitation, half provocation.

Come and find me.

Zan closed his fingers tightly around the vial and got to his feet.

One Year Later

The men, chiseling away at the side of the rock, had no idea if this search area would yield any new results. They were merely following their orders. It was not for them to question, just to obey.

After coming up short so many times, they were greatly shocked when a door appeared in the side of the mountain wall, creaking open as if to welcome them home.

Their lanterns cast spooky shadows on the ancient, cobweb-swathed carvings as they went from room to room until at last they found the entrance to the sanctorium chapel.

At the end of the nave, their lanterns caught the gleam of glass.

They raced back to the entrance and called down the mountain.

“Hurry! Hurry! Tell him the news! She’s here! We’ve finally found her!”