enjoyebooks CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 40
POV: Evangeline
“Marc,” I say, kneeling in front of him and gripping his trembling hands, “you must not speak to William again. Not ever. Do you understand me?”
His lower lip wobbles. “But he wasn’t mean to me. He just wanted to play—”
“No,” I interrupt sharply, then soften my tone when he flinches. “Sweetheart, he is dangerous. He is not your friend. If you see him again, you run to me or Georgina. Immediately.”
He frowns. “But—”
“No arguing,” I say, voice cracking with fear. “Promise me.”
Marc swallows. “I… I promise, Mama.”
Adrian clings to Georgina’s skirts, whispering, “I told him William was creepy…”
Georgina strokes both boys’ hair. “I’ll keep them close,” she assures me. “I won’t let them out of my sight.”
I nod gratefully, though panic coils in my chest like a living thing.
After I send the boys with Georgina, I step into the corridor, rubbing my temples. My mind feels like splintered glass—fear, grief, exhaustion cutting into every thought.
“Your Majesty?”
I look up to see Lady Rosemary approaching, her armor glinting under the torchlight. Her presence is firm, grounding.
“Rosemary,” I breathe.
She stops in front of me, her eyes scanning my face. “Georgina told me you’re finally out of your room. How are you… holding up?”
“I’m not,” I admit. “But I don’t have the luxury of falling apart anymore.”
She nods solemnly. “Then hear what we’ve learned. It concerns you as much as the king.”
I stiffen. “Tell me.”
“Lord Henry is not who he claims to be,” she begins. “His true name is Henry Morien—the same Henry who disappeared decades ago after being cast out of the northern magical orders.”
A chill crawls up my spine. “Continue…”
Rosemary nods grimly. “We also confirmed something else. William… is Henry's son.”
Silence swallows the hallway. My mind freezes for a long moment.
Rosemary’s voice softens. “Sebastian remembered an oracle telling him the child wasn’t his. Henry must have been in Cordelia’s life long before anyone realized.”
My mind reels. “So Henry is using William—his own child—as a weapon?”
“A tool,” Rosemary corrects. “Henry wants revenge. He wants Sebastian to drown in guilt. A guilty man is easier to break.”
I close my eyes. “And he’s succeeding.”
Rosemary hesitates, then says quietly, “Evangeline… Sebastian is not himself without you. He tries to lead, but he’s unraveling.”
My throat tightens. “I can’t face him. I can’t look at him without seeing Alexandro fall.”
“I know,” she says gently. “But he blames himself for everything. He’s carrying too much alone.”
“I’m not ready to forgive him,” I whisper.
“You don’t have to,” she says. “But don’t let Henry tear the two of you apart. That is exactly what he wants.”
I exhale shakily. “I need answers before I can face Sebastian. Answers about magic… curses… runes…” My mind jumps, gears clicking. “Rosemary, is the old archive still open near the capital border?”
She raises a brow. “Yes, but it’s barely staffed. Why—”
“I need to go,” I say, backing away. “Right now.”
“Evangeline—”
“I’ll take two guards. I’ll be safe.”
She studies me, then nods reluctantly. “Be careful.”
I rush down the corridor before fear can root me in place.
***
The old archive sits far from the bustling capital, half-swallowed by overgrown vines and leaning stone. My guards wait outside while I slip into the dim, dusty interior. The smell of old parchment and forgotten secrets hits me instantly.
Shelves tower overhead, creaking under the weight of books untouched for decades.
I run my fingers along spines marked with runes and sigils. “Black magic… curses… bloodline rituals…”
At last, tucked in a corner wrapped in brittle cloth, I find a thick tome with a blackened cover. A warning rune—broken and faded—marks the front.
I open it carefully.
The first page reads:
“Curses of the Dark Vein: The Blood That Sings.”
My pulse quickens.
I flip through pages until a section catches my eye—illustrations of spiraling runes, diagrams of severed magical bonds.
There. A passage titled:
“The Curse of Endless Flow.”
My eyes widen as I read:
“A powerful curse that binds black magic to a host must be severed by three seals. Each seal breaks when the cursed bearer experiences a shattering state—pain so deep it fractures the soul. When all three seals are broken, the curse itself collapses.”
Three seals. Three shattering events. My heart races.
Cordelia’s death. That day five years ago—the runes lifted from her body and spelled the message:
“One seal broken. Two seals left.”
I grip the book tighter.
“That curse…” I whisper. “It didn’t belong only to Cordelia. It must have come from someone before her.”
My blood runs cold.
Henry.
Cordelia called him her past lover.
She must have carried the curse from him. And when she died, the seal broke and part of the curse passed into him—strengthening whatever dark power he wielded.
Everything begins to slide horribly, painfully into place.
“He’s growing stronger,” I breathe. “The more hearts he shatters...”
My mind races. If William suffers… If the kingdom suffers… If Sebastian suffers… No. I can’t think like that. Not now.
I close the book and tuck it into my cloak. “I need to take this to Maximilian. And Rosemary. They need to see—”
A sound cuts me off. A footstep. Soft. Deliberate.
My heart leaps into my throat. I turn slowly.
A tall figure stands in the narrow aisle between shelves, blocking the only exit.
Dark coat. Silver-threaded gloves. A slow, knowing smile.
Lord Henry.
His eyes gleam in the dim light as he dips his head in false politeness.
“Your Majesty,” he purrs, voice dripping with amusement, “how delightful to find you here.”
My breath stops.