Malice

lost in the storm. Or, my vicious thoughts keep circling back to what must be the truth—she’s grown bored of me. I was an amusing distraction, but my novelty has worn off. Exactly as I knew it would.
My bell rings.
I’m at the door in two heartbeats, and Aurora hurries in, pulling her scarf from around her face and slamming the door behind her against the gales. I’m so relieved I’m nearly dizzy, scolding myself for thinking the worst of her. And then, more than that, for even caring what Aurora thought. I’m letting her get too close. But I have no idea how to push her away.
“I’m sorry,” she says, dumping her sack of books on the worktable. “My mother insisted I dine with her tonight. And then she refused to let me go, wanting to discuss the new developments.”
“New developments?”
She’s soaked to the bone and I fetch a blanket for her. She slumps into a chair in front of the hearth. “A suitor.” She rolls her eyes, wringing out her hair. “Elias, a younger son of Ryna.”
“Ryna.” The kingdom directly above the island of Cardon—where Corinne had come from and broken Eva’s curse before they…I wrench my thoughts away from the Crimson Cliffs and the broken bodies beneath the sea. “Ryna specializes in…silk production?”
“I’m surprised you know that.” Aurora feeds a few dried beetles to Callow, stroking the kestrel’s snowy breast. “Silk and astronomy, apparently. Some of their scholars compared the star charts from the night I was born to the prince’s. And it’s a match.”
I dislike him immediately. “What does that mean?”
“Dragon knows.” Aurora groans. “But most of all it means that he will be coming here. Mother is sure he’s the one.”
Dislike sharpens to hatred.
“But you’re not.”
“I don’t particularly care.” But the angle of her shoulders tells a different story. “Elias was extended a royal invitation years ago, but he refused. Now that the stars have spoken, his parents are forcing him to come. But I wager he wants to make the journey about as much as I want his slimy lips on mine.”
I throw a handful of peppermint leaves and cinnamon cloves into a mug to make her a tincture. “You don’t know that they’re slimy.”
“They’re all slimy.” She scoots closer to the fire. “All the more reason to break the curse myself. Send the star-chosen prince right back to his scholars and his silk trade. Have you collected what we need for the summoning ritual?”
I chew my lips as I fuss with the kettle, my gaze flitting to where the deathknot stews in its brackish fluid.
Aurora doesn’t miss it. “What is that horrible thing?”
“Deathknot.” A patch of moldy fur on the deathknot’s bulbous end glares at me. It’s better that we just leave it in its jar. Better yet, drop it into the sea. “I picked it up from Hilde, my apothecary. It’s for the ritual.”
She needs no further explanation. The chair teeters as she flies across the room and snatches up the jar. “This looks like it could have come from Malterre itself.” She inspects every angle, fascinated and terrified at once.
Kind of like how she feels about you, that voice whispers. I smother it.
“It probably did. I don’t think Hilde has ever had someone ask for it.”
“Well, what are we waiting for?”
“It’s not quite that simple.” I push the mug into her hands and open the Nightseeker book, examining the looping script and faded diagram of the ritual for the hundredth time. “Are you certain about this? Because I’m not. This magic is clearly forbidden—I don’t know how your father would feel if he knew we were using it. But I imagine he wouldn’t approve.”
She sips the brew. Nods. “That’s fair.”
“It’s not just me I’m worried about,” I go on. “You, too.”
Aurora watches the jar as she thinks. “I know. And you’re right.”
Relief blooms in my gut, then just as quickly wilts at the look in her eyes. They’re determined and sure. Reckless.
“I’m worried about what will happen if we don’t use the book.” She sets down her mug. Her scent of appleblossoms twines with those of my enhancements. And I’m surprised at how much I’ve come to expect it here. “If I’m gone, what will happen to the realm?”
“I thought your mother was working with the Etherians. There must be some plan.” How can I make her understand? I don’t want to hurt her. Don’t want to see her face as the duke’s was—lips limned in blood and eyes glassy. “This is dangerous. It could—”
“Kill me?” She laughs. “So can the curse. I know you’re trying to protect me, Alyce, but I’m tired of feeling that my fate rests in someone else’s hands. Someone I don’t even know. That’s what killed my sisters—waiting and hoping. I won’t follow in their footsteps. And if I die because I’m trying to take some control over my own life, so be it.”
Dragon’s fucking teeth. I know exactly how she feels. It’s the same as my secret lessons with Kal. My arrangement with the king and my plan to take the gold he pays me and run.
“Fine.” I pour more water into her mug. “But the ritual only works if you have a connection to the person, or spirit, summoned.”
She sits back down, frowning. “We don’t have anything like that.”
“Actually…” This is the part I dreaded. “Because the Vila cursed you, I think we do.” Aurora gives me a puzzled look. “I think we could use your blood.”
“You want my blood,” she repeats. “For the summoning ritual?”
From her lips, I can hear the idiocy of the suggestion. A flush creeps up my neck.
But Aurora only picks up the nearest paring knife. “How much?”
We spend the next half an hour preparing. The diagram from the book must be drawn on the floor, a difficult feat since the stones are perpetually damp. I scatter sage and yew and other herbs inside the faint chalk lines. While I work on that, Aurora tends the fire, bringing my large iron