Eversworn: Daughters of Askara, Book 3 Read Free Page B

upon my shoulders. Squinting upward, I calculated the remaining hours until my departure. Flexing my spine, I loosened muscles coiled tight by nerves and stole a final glimpse of the consulate’s garden lit by sunset colors. Red clay stained my pants and shoes, casualties of my private war to coax life where there was none. Rubbing a succulent leaf between my fingers, I hoped one of the boarders took an interest and tended my plants after I was gone.
    Although, once I left and took my magic with me, they might die regardless.
    On that somber note, I unearthed my grimoire. Oiled leather rubbed softly beneath my fingertips. As I brushed aside dirt clods and revealed the well-insulated tome, awareness sparked.
    “Sleep,” I soothed it.
    After allowing brief skin-to-page contact, the book’s flare of sentience snuffed out in a pulse of latent magic. Once I was sure it rested contentedly, I rewrapped it and tucked it under my arm.
    I hadn’t added to its contents during my time at the consulate, or much at all during my life. Instead, I’d focused on my healing craft both before and after Roland. To his dismay, I loathed borrowing knowledge from the grimoire. More precisely, I hated paying its price for information.
    I had no choice now. Brielle—
    No . I crushed the thought, not daring to even think her name.
    Exhaling through the guilt making it hard to breathe, I unclasped my locket and stared at the portrait inside, a dangerous concession to my shame. I’d braided a portion of the hair Roland had given me, and it coiled inside the opposite frame. I took one last look, one dangerous glimpse, then I closed it as a child’s laughter tickled my ears and echoes from the past crackled my heart.
    “Isabeau?” Lindsay jangled my nerves as she entered the yard. “Would you like a drink?”
    “No, thank you.” A mumbled incantation tripped over my lips and hid the grimoire from view. “You don’t have to come to me.” I smiled and sat back on my ankles. “I’m on my way.”
    “You’re fine where you are.” She waved away my words and stepped in my direction. “I was wondering what to prepare tonight. Do you have a taste for anything?” Another step and she would see the hole and wonder at its cause. “We have fresh vegetables. I thought a nice stew?”
    Magic built in my hands, too hot and too dangerous to be mine. I glanced at my side, where I’d tucked the invisible grimoire. Its anticipation made my spine tingle. Sensing Lindsay’s approach, it yawned into wakefulness, lending me its power, eager for me to make use of it, desperate to exact its price if I did.
    “No,” I whispered to it. “She is no danger to me, or to you.”
    She laughed. “Who are you talking to over there behind the bushes?”
    “No one, I just—” I pleaded with her, but she kept coming. “Wait there.”
    The book all but purred, urging my fingers to uncurl. I made a fist instead and quashed the power fizzling from my fingertips. Eyes closed, I took a deep breath and pitted my will against the grimoire’s. Our silent battle lasted only seconds. Thrumming with annoyance, the book conceded the point, leaving me sweaty and shaking. The sooner we left the consulate the better.
    “Oh. You could have said you were gardening.” Her brow creased as she inspected my work. “Are you sure you should be planting?” She eyed the hole then me. “You’re not sore?”
    “I am somewhat tender.” I wiped sweaty palms. “Would you brew some chamomile tea?”
    She brightened. “I will do my best.” In her eagerness to please, she left without a fuss.
    Pain from unspent spell craft crippled me. I hunched forward, bracing my palms on the dirt, creating a circuit to diffuse the magical static clinging to my hands. Nearby flowers plumped, blossoms unfurled and vines withered. Petals fell. Scorched earth filled my nose, and I sneezed.
    Dangerous to have awakened my grimoire before having the strength to control it, but my other choice was