“The ritualwillkill you, but the fire will not let you go. You will be reborn at a significant cost. Niethal will instruct you to say these phrases.” He pushes the book in front of me, but I don’t understand the language. “But at the end, add this.” He guides my hand, tapping my finger on a single word.
When he lets go, a coolness lingers where our skin touched. “It will alter your path. Keep whole that which you care for most. Niethal would have you burn until nothing but ash remains, but that is not what the Fates demand. They demand magical balance, and he’s trying to disrupt that again.”
I stare blankly at him. “Whoareyou?”
“I am as ancient as the stars in the sky and walk with the future and past at my side. I have been called many names, but none is correct. For now, call me Atarric and speak nothing of our visit.” He pushes back from the table and stands with the ease of someone much younger than he appears.
“Wait! You said I could ask questions at the end.”
“Did I?” He gives a devious grin. “I must have forgotten. Old age will do that to you. Remember the word, Grace. Remember who you are.”
He moves toward the door, but instead of going through, he vanishes.
I jump to my feet and search the room, half expecting him to reappear, but he doesn’t. It appears he took the book with him as well. The table we sat at is now bare.
“Ready to go?”
I flinch and clutch my chest. “Stars above, Reagan! I swear you startle me on purpose.”
He chuckles as he bows, hand over his heart in apology, but the grin on his face says otherwise. I take a breath, regaining my composure before asking, “Whowasthat? And where did he go?”
The smile fades from Reagan’s face and becomes serious. “He was no one, and it would be best if we did not speak of him here.”
“Fine. Atarric was confusing enough. I’ve had my share of weird for the day.”
The corner of Reagan’s mouth ticks back up. “Now that we’ve stopped at the library as you asked, His Majesty awaits you outside.”
“I didn’t ask to stop at the library.”
“Sure, you did. As we were leaving your room, youbeggedme to stop here first.” He raises his eyebrows, feeding me the story.
I roll my eyes. “Fine, yes.Iasked to go to the library. Now, what does Niethal want?”
Reagan signals for me to follow. “He is going to teach you the ritual but doesn’t want you burning down the castle. He was worried the new king might not like it if you did.”
I snort. The idea Niethal would think of Isiah is laughable.
“Yes, I’m sure Niethal is very concerned about the furnishings.”
As we walk through the grand foyer, singe marks litter the carpet. I step over the burned spots, and guilt gnaws at my insides, thinking of the lives I took.
What did Niethal do with the bodies?
My thoughts quiet as we exit the castle into the bright mid-afternoon sun.
We find Niethal under the shade of a large tree, gazing at the city. As we approach, he turns and folds his arms across his chest. “Why are you late?”
Reagan bows deeply. “Apologies, Your Majesty. Grace asked to see the library. She said she’s bored in her room all day and wanted something to read.”
I shoot Reagan a side-eye, and the corner of his mouth twitches.
Niethal’s eyes dart between the two of us. “Well, next time, wait until I am done with her before making extra stops.” His eyes remain wholly focused on me, but says to Reagan, “You may go.”
Reagan bows low and heads back into the castle, leaving us alone.
Niethal faces the city again, and I join him.
“It is a charming town. Quaint for my taste, but I can see the appeal.”