10. Morgan

Damien and Blazego their separate ways—Blaze to rest in his room, and Damien to handle matters in the kingdom that need attending—leaving Amber and me on the roof.

We stay up there for hours, chatting until the sun starts to go down.

In those hours, I tell her everything that happened in the past few days.

Meeting Blaze in Zermatt. Our quest to find the quill. Not telling him I'm also a blood witch. The night we spent together in the tent. How angry he was with me—and still is—after I was forced to reveal the truth.

Everything.

Well, almost everything.

I leave out one part.

The wind, and the way it whispered to me, telling me not to trust him.

The way it kept urging me to kill him.

Speaking the words out loud feels too horrible.

I also don't want Amber to worry that Blaze's spell will have an adverse effect on her, too. After all, he did the spell on her with the Crimson Quill. The quill strengthens his magic, so he won't make mistakes like he did with me and his mom.

The spell he did on her was also the only possible way to stop her magic from fading completely.

If she lost her magic, we'd lose our chance against the shadow souls.

Which means the spell is a risk we needed to take.

"You should talk to Blaze again," Amber eventually says. "Now that he's had time to cool down, maybe he'll be ready to listen."

"I don't know." I bite my lip and sit back in my chair, gazing out at Central Park sprawled out ahead.

Everything looks so peaceful out there.

I'm imagining what it must be like to be one of the tourists taking pictures of themselves enjoying sunset in the park when a breeze picks up, moving against my face in a way that instantly sets me on edge.

No, I think, gripping the arms of my chair. This isn't anything supernatural. After all, we're up on a roof. It's perfectly natural for it to get breezy on roofs.

But the wind picks up, brushing against my ear, demanding my attention.

You saw the look in Blaze's eyes when he used the quill on Amber. The darkness.

This time, the thought isn't mine.

It belongs to it.

The wind.

I blink, trying to focus on Amber, but her words don't reach me.

Power like that doesn't just strengthen, the wind continues. It overflows, spills out, and corrupts.

Its warnings are eerily similar to those Langwerda gave us in her cottage.

She told us that the last wielder of the Crimson Quill—one of Blaze's ancestors—gave it to her to hide away because he feared its potential for misuse. And after Blaze bound the quill to himself, she told him it has the power to change, create, and destroy.

That's right, the wind speaks in my ear, egging on my thoughts. His power is a ticking time bomb. It's changing him. Making him dangerous. You need to stop him—before it's too late.

I pull my legs to my chest and wrap my arms around them, trying to block out the wind. But it's no use. It's a storm around me, haunting me, tugging at my mind, refusing to back down.

Blaze has served his purpose. He got the potion out of Amber and into the compass. He's not needed anymore.

My heart pangs at the wind's harsh words, yanking me back into the present.

Because Blaze is needed.

By me.

"Morgan?" Amber's voice cuts through my dark thoughts. "Are you okay?"

No, I think. The literal air around me is telling me to kill the guy I might be falling in love with.

"All good," I say instead, shooting her a smile that I'm sure is far from believable. "Just tired."

She waits, assumedly for me to say something more, but I don't.

"Okay," she finally says, although from the way she looks at me, I can tell she knows something isn't right.

I need to get out of here before she can start prying for the truth.

"I have to go." I stand up, trying to push the wind's whispers from my mind before it can convince me to do something I'll regret. "Good luck tonight. I'm sure you'll do great."

Amber frowns, then stands as well. "I'll walk back with you," she says, and I don't fight her on it, since our rooms—and Blaze's—are all on the floor reserved for guests.

It would be strange to run away and leave her alone.

"Just promise me you won't let me go to Blaze's room," I tell her. "I'm too tired to talk to him. I need to wait until I can think straight."

I also need to avoid being alone with him minutes after thinking about killing him.

"Sure." She flashes me another concerned look, pauses, then adds, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," I snap, and she flinches at my sudden harshness. "It's been a long few days. I just need to lay down and get some rest."

"Got it," she says. "No problem."

The elevator ride is tense and silent, as is the walk down the hall. Luckily, my room is closer than Amber's. She's all the way at the end.

The best and largest guest room, for Damien's intended bride.

"Good luck with Lysandra tonight," I tell her, now that I can think somewhat clearly again. "I don't know what she's going to offer, but you need to be cautious with the fae. Always. If something sounds too good to be true, it definitely is."

"You don't want me to make a deal with her," Amber says flatly.

"I don't know," I admit, since despite my ability, I don't know everything.

Far from it.

From the way she frowns again, I can tell that wasn't the answer she was hoping for.

"I'm sorry," I add. "I really have no idea what she's going to tell you. I tried to see, but I kept coming up blank. It's why you need to go yourself."

My eyes dart down the hall, a few doors over, to where Blaze is staying. He's in there right now with the Crimson Quill, experimenting with it, testing his limits, pushing it further than he should…

No. These aren't my thoughts. They're from the wind—from the seeds it planted, to get me to turn on him.

To get me to kill him.

"I have to go." I reach for my key and unlock my door, wishing Amber good luck again before entering my room.

The moment I'm inside, I lean against the door, taking a few deep breaths to center myself.

The wind's whispers are gone. The echoes of what they said remain in my mind, but for now, I'm safe.

For now.

I can't continue like this forever. There has to be a way to heal my mind from whatever Blaze's spell did to it.

Especially because my sister Willow's blood magic specialty is healing. She's only ever been able to heal physical injuries, but it could be worth a try to have her heal whatever Blaze did that harmed my mind.

The biggest issue is that she's with Zara, the others in the Blood Coven, and Ambrogio's corpse in that creepy cathedral they've designated as their hiding spot.

AKA: their lair.

My chest hollows at the thought of my sisters. I miss them. So badly it hurts.

I need to know how they are. I've been trying to resist doing it, fearing it will be too painful, but I don't want to fight it any longer.

I'm going to scry to see them.