Quill of Thieves

Chapter 50

Astrid faltered. "What?"

Sebastian's face glowed a warm gold in the light of his latest discovery. Whatever that discovery may be. There was a part of her that feared finding out; he was far too astute for his own good.

"You had your cuff on that night, didn't you? When you healed Abel? You shouldn't have been able to do that, but you did."

Beneath her cuff, the skin of her arm itched. She had worn her cuff that night all those weeks ago. Not by her choice; it was always there. Because it was meant to protect others from her cursed magic. At least, that was what Davina had always claimed. To hide Astrid's connection to the elements from Soleita. To protect her, Davina's only child.

But what if—?

What if her mother had other motives as had been depicted in Lambert's scroll? What if Davina actually despised her daughter's Author gift? The one Davina had always wanted and had never been able to harness.

What if her mother did not want Astrid to have them? So, she had smothered them, instead.

"You are leashed," the Fae warrior, Leolin, had accused in those tunnels.

Leashed.

Could one be leashed to their own mother without seeing the collar?

Despite herself, the answer was automatic:

Yes.

Astrid shook her head, furious with Lambert, Matthias, and whoever-the-Hel N.B. Verilibros was for writing down such nonsense to infiltrate her thoughts. But her anger fell onto Sebastian, who was the closest in proximity, to be fair, and was still reveling in his newest realization with an irritatingly awed expression.

"—If Enzo was an Author," Sebastian continued, "with a soul whose affinity was Spirit, it stands to reason that you would have the same—"

"It hardly matters!"

The words spat from her tongue before she could think better of them. They clipped the air, stinging even her own ears. Sebastian's mouth fell shut in the wake of the outburst. But now that the words were out, Astrid found she could no longer contain them. She wasn't sure she wanted to.

Which was dangerous.

"It does not matter," she repeated. "I am not the carissénas. You are!" Her breaths hurt her lungs. "I am inconsequential."

"That isn't necessarily true," Sebastian rebutted in a soft tone that made Astrid's toes want to curl maddeningly into her socks. "You were chosen, as was I. This tournament—"

Is a farce! She wanted to finish for him, but she swallowed the words like glass and instead admitted, "My blood is tainted, Sebastian."

"It is not," he argued. "Do not believe what others have told you."

Her eyes flickered to the Monverta she and Sebastian had brought to Lambert's office, all but forgotten about in light of everything else that was, in the grander scheme of Rainier, as inconsequential as she truly had been born to be. And, suddenly, she knew how to correct this situation. She sucked in a breath, willing her heart to calm, to fossilize if need be, and turned back to Sebastian.

"It is true. Lambert was correct about that, at least." She lowered her voice, forced her words to waver. "My father—" Her voice caught.

"Niklaus Verilibros," Sebastian added.

The stupidly small fact that he had remembered her father's name sent her guilt tumbling and crashing.

Rising bile burned the back of her throat. "During the purge, he sided with my mother to prevent Soleita from stealing the last bits of Rainier's elemental threads. His elemental threads. He was an Author, trained in Soleita, but he turned his back on them to protect what he thought was right—"