Filed To Story: Cursed Legacies Series Free PDF by Morgan B Lee
What a waste of her time.
As if a damn prayer is going to save these con artists from me. The last time I prayed was six months ago, when my first and only love died in my arms and took the better version of me with her. All that hell and suffering my keeper fought so damn hard to survive for the sake of countless innocents, only for her to be gone in the next breath?
Yeah, no. The gods can rot for all I care, right along with everything we should have had together.
I level a look at the other two. “Anyone else want to join my collection?”
The priestess wisely rushes out of the library without a single word, dipping her head respectfully as she goes. But my irritation lingers when the Second High Prophet of Galene remains in place, watching me calmly in his ceremonial purple robes.
“Everett Frost,” he greets quietly. “The Knowing has blessed me with a great sense of clairvoyance. Knowing what I do of these last several hours, I am compelled to share what I have sensed of the telum.”
The irritation quickly transforms to silent outrage, crystallizing in my blood.
Of course. Of fucking course I have to go through this again.
I’m not surprised another corrupt jackass is milking my keeper’s posthumous infamy for attention. Her name is on everyone’s lips—a whisper, a rumor, a byword, an inspiring story. They use her name like it’s a godsdamned joke. Amid the Upheaval that some blame her for, everyone wants to pretend they knew her.
Worship her or loathe her, no one will let my keeper or her name rest in peace.
It’s torture of the purest kind. I won’t sit here and listen to it anymore.
“Get out,” I warn him.
The prophet perseveres. “Everything is about to change. I have sensed Maven Oakley.”
“From the Beyond?” I snap. “In case you haven’t noticed, my keeper is dead, so keep her precious name out of your godsforsaken mouth before you join your friend.”
When he has the gall to open his mouth again, I freeze him, too.
Lillian starts to protest, but I turn and stride out of the room. I’m too riled up and volatile right now. Being around anyone is a bad idea unless they deserve it, which she doesn’t.
Lillian catches up with me as I storm back through the large courtyard.
“Everett—“
“Save it.”
“It’s not about what you just did. Please slow down.”
I don’t want to slow down. I want to get to the only place I’ve wanted to be for six months—at the honorary graveside of my keeper, whose body the gods didn’t even leave for me to mourn.
Lillian huffs. “Wait. Everett?—“
“
What?” I demand, whirling to face her as snow flurries around us. “Just spit it the fuck out!”
Lillian winces, stumbling, and I realize ice just encapsulated one of her feet.
Shit.
Now shame is mixing with the bile and anger. I glare at the ice I summoned by accident. Even after it’s melted, Lillian waits patiently for me to calm down, which just makes me regret losing my temper more.
I cover my ruined face and try to even out my breathing. “I wasn’t trying to?—“
“I know. It’s all right.”
It’s not all right.
I’m not all right. I will never be all right again, because the memory of my snowdrop’s beautiful voice is like a dagger in my head.
I love you.
Ravens squawk nearby, fluttering to places where they can see me better.
Lillian is quiet for a moment before sighing. “You haven’t eaten since Sunday. I made soup and bread. If you sit down with me for a proper meal, maybe you’ll feel bet?—“
“I’m not hungry,” I manage, but I know I sound tired as hell.
Lillian clearly wants to protest out of concern, but she shivers because the snowfall has gotten more severe the longer I’ve been out here. She motions for me to follow and hurries back into the castle for its little warmth. I go indoors and start toward the isolated western wing of the castle because I haven’t checked on the iron prison yet today.
She doesn’t leave my side, blowing warm air into her hands as she tries to find the right words. “I think you should have listened to more of what that high prophet had to say.”
“No need. It was a lie. They keep leeching off of her memory, and it’s fucking disgusting.”
“This time could be different,” Lillian insists gently. “I’ve heard a lot of prophecies and listened to a lot of holy people throughout my life, Everett. I know he’s truly clairvoyant. Maybe?—“
We both slow to a stop when we hear the screaming.
“Foirnach ahr stad! Oculi ima mo’ceblath uraiseth!” Silas screams from inside the old classroom that he converted into a prison.
None of us know what he’s saying most of the time. Not even Lillian, who speaks fluent fae. He’s the one who built the damn iron enclosure, but I’ve kept him in there, hidden from anyone who would kill a necromancer on sight.
Which is most people these days.
Silas’s frantic voice breaks before he dissolves into hysterical sobbing.
“Did he eat today?” I ask, my voice barely audible as I decide this isn’t a good time for a visit.
She shakes her head.
I’ll have to tell Douglas to magically force-feed him again. Keeping this deranged fae alive has been exhausting, but I refuse to give up. And it’s not just because my keeper had me promise to take care of him. If I’m honest, seeing the cutthroat, annoyingly sharp prodigy I knew as a child reduced to this condition is just…harrowing.
I turn away from the iron hell comprised of stone, bare-boned iron fixtures, chains, and the iron cocoon he stays in most of the time. Heaviness weighs on my chest as I try not to think about what’s left of my old quintet.
“What about the Decimuses? Any word from them?”
Lillian tries warming her hands again. “A caster transported here earlier with a message about the water elementals you sent as reinforcements to the Purcell mountain range last week. They’ve been helping to contain the worst of the fires, but…”
Her hesitation tells me it’s bad news, so I make an educated guess. “But the dragon’s been killing them again.”
“Yes,” she admits sadly. “And there have been more hunters than ever trying to get to him.”
On autopilot, I’ve started wandering toward the only courtyard not filled with frozen trophies. The one that contains a large greenhouse now filled with snowdrops and a simple, honorary headstone, along with what few things she left behind. Douglas enchanted it so that only I and Lillian can enter, but I want to be completely alone right now.
Hurting alone is always better.
“Don’t let the soup go cold on my account,” I tell Lillian.
It’s clearly a dismissal, but she stays. “Everett. Can’t you sense it? Even as we speak, I feel like something has changed. Maybe my prayers are finally being answered. If you could hang on to hope for a bit longer?—“
Bitterness makes my words too sharp. “Hope is useless, and praying is for idiots. I should’ve listened to my keeper sooner because she was right about the gods. I’m done with them.”
New Book: Returned To Make Them Pay
On her wedding anniversary, Alicia is drugged and stumbles into the wrong room—straight into the arms of the powerful Caden Ward, a man rumored never to touch women. Their night of passion shocks even him, especially when he discovers she’s still a virgin after two years of marriage to Joshua Yates.