I narrowed my eyes, confused by her anxiety. Adrian was her blood, but even more than that, he’d always defended witchcraft. “Are you afraid of him?” I asked.
“I am not afraid,” she said, and a strange hardness darkened her eyes as she spoke. “But I do not wish to be a weapon.”
Internally, I flinched at her words, though I knew what she meant and why she said them. As Yesenia, I had been used in that way—as a weapon to criminalize witchcraft, to strike fear in the hearts of the whole of Cordova. I had been used to lift Dragos to the status of hero, and for that, not only had I died, but so had the whole of my coven—and thousands more.
And despite all the signs, I had still wished for peace. I had begged for understanding. I had believed that if only I could teach, they would see, but in the face of a vicious man, it had killed me.
I knew the truth of this world, and the only way to survive as a woman with power was to use it.
“Then become your own weapon,” I said.
“If it were that easy, then I would,” she said and paused. “Come with me. I have something to show you.”
I expected Ana to lead me out of the sanctuary, but instead, she returned to the alter and slipped behind it. I followed, though the space was narrow, and watched as she pushed open a door.
I was not very surprised that something like this existed within the Red Palace. It was Ana who had shown me several secret passages throughout the castle.
“Come, I want you to go first.”
“Where is it I am going?” I asked as I approached.
“You will see,” she said, standing aside so I could enter the dark passageway. “Wait.”
I did as she instructed, watching as she reached for something just inside the doorway—a torch, which she lit using the candles outside the entrance.
“Take this,” she said, handing it to me, and then she closed the door, and the only light was what I held. Despite the warmth of the fire, the passage was cold. I could feel the frozen air seeping through my dress in spite of its thickness.
“I will be behind you,” she said, and I started forward.
The tunnel curved to the left and then descended into a spiral staircase. I took each narrow step slowly, feeling the dust move beneath my feet. I kept one hand on the wall, which was also gritty and rough. The turn of the stairs eventually led into a room. Without the support of the stone wall, I felt as if I were floating, and it was dizzying. I exhaled slowly and deliberately as I continued down, inhaling the unmistakable smell of old books. It was a scent that clogged the air, making it thick with dust.
I held the torch aloft as I made it to solid ground and took in the room. It was a small, round library with shelves of books, and what did not fit was stacked on the ground or on the desk, which was large and crowded with papers and candles that had burned down to nothing but a pile of weeping wax.
“Are these spell books?” I asked, and when Ana did not reply, I turned to face her.
My hand trembled, a deep part of me overcome with a myriad of emotions I could not quite place. There was a side of me that felt almost joyful and a side of me that felt tortured by the symbolism of these books—one for each witch who had died.
“They are,” she said and took the torch from me, using it to light others around the room before securing it within its own holder. When she was finished, she returned her attention to me. I tried to swallow past the thickness in my throat.
“Zann was right,” I whispered.
The familiar feeling of shock ricocheted through me, but it was quickly replaced by anger. I curled my fists and turned to look at the many and varied volumes. Some were leather bound and some were stitched; some were rolled parchment. These were the spell books of powerful covens and the personal spell books of free witches, and they were all connected by their horrific and systematic murders.
“Ravena must not know,” I said.
“I do not think she was as valuable to Dragos as you,” said Ana.
“I was valuable enough to die.”
“You were valuable enough to start a witch hunt,” she said. “And that gave him power for years after your death.”
I had yet to process how I had been used by Dragos, but the thought brought Ana’s words to mind.
I do not wish to be a weapon, she’d said.
I understood what she meant, and yet I still wanted to be a weapon.
I touched the spines of the books with the tips of my fingers. Their energy was varied—some light and airy, others dark and heavy. I wanted to hold each one close to my heart. I wanted to mourn each one as they deserved, but neither of those things brought justice.
None of them allowed for vengeance.
“Does Adrian know about this?” I asked.
I turned to watch her reaction, but her expression remained stern.
“I…never told him,” she admitted.
“Is it because you feared he would use you?”
“He would,” she said. “Without question.”
I frowned. I wanted to argue with her, but instead, I said, “I will not keep secrets.”
She nodded, and while she seemed sad, she also seemed resigned.
“I suppose you will have to tell him if we are going to learn spells,” she said, and my heart rose into my throat. It was strange to feel emotional about the thought of speaking a language, but this one was etched in my soul, and in truth, I never thought I would again. “I have been thinking about what you said, and perhaps we can find a counterspell for the crimson mist. It would be a first step toward what we really need.”
“What do we really need?” I asked.
“To summon Ravena,” she said. “And bind her magic.”
Fourteen
Isolde
Leaving the small library felt like coming out of a cave, and when I emerged from its darkness, I felt changed in a way I could not really explain. I had stood among tomes that had belonged to witches who had existed before me, witches who had crafted their realities with words and intentions. I felt overwhelmed that so much potential was at our fingertips and deeply worried that I would not be capable of harnessing any of it—at least not in the way I’d been able to as Yesenia.
I just hoped Ana would be powerful enough to cast the spell.
I went in search of Adrian. Despite telling Ana I would keep no secrets from him, I thought of how she had worried that he might use her and found myself wondering if she was right to be afraid, given Dis’s connection to Adrian.
Just how much influence did the goddess have over him?
The fact that I did not know made my stomach turn.
I headed for the garden. The castle bustled with activity as the servants prepared for tonight’s Winter’s Eve celebration. Blackthorn branches were draped over the threshold of the entrance to the great hall and the Red Palace, and thistle hung in the windows. As I left the courtyard, a fire blazed, smelling strongly of garlic.
I found Adrian in the snow-covered garden, at the edge of the pool where he usually stood and watched his fish swim. He had laughed when I called them his pets, but he visited them often, especially on days he sought peace. Except today, they did not seem to bring him the same comfort, because he stood with his hands fisted at his sides.
“Is everything…” I started to ask, but then my eyes fell to the pool where his fish were floating, bellies exposed and bloated.