Game of Prythian

Chapter Seventeen

"Why don't you ask Kana?" The carver's head tilted slightly. I swallowed, "She pulled her spies when she got word of something. I don't know what." The carver glared at me, "Or do you-"

"That's enough," Rhysand snarled. "A question for a question." Rhysand repeated. He tallied his fingers and held them up, "You've asked six."

The carver's lips pressed together tightly. He nodded for him to continue. Rhysand asked, "Who's been raiding the temples?"

"You know." The carver said. Rhysand declared, "Hybern."

The carver nodded, as Rhysand questioned. "What does he seek?" The carver glanced at me then went back to Rhysand. "Something long lost."

"The cauldron." Rhysand said sternly, I glanced at him. His face was tight with a silent rage. The carver nodded. "What does he plan to do with it?"

"Something horrible." The carver answered blatantly. Rhysand's lips pressed together in a thin line. "Where is it?"

"I do not know, it is shielded even from my sight." The carver declared. Rhysand asked, "What is going to happen?"

The carver raised his chin a bit, "A repeat of the war five hundred years ago." Rhysand declared, "Why now?" The boy's finger lifted and pointed at me. I shivered a bit. "The pieces of an ancient game long since played."

"Why does he want the cauldron?" Rhysand asked softer. The carver picked at his nails. "Tell me something you've never told anyone." I stiffened, the horrible things, the brutal things all upon which he could have done in five hundred years rushed to my mind.

"In the war I wrecked my right knee. Now everytime it rains it hurts." Rhysand explained. I blinked at him, and he glanced at me softly. "Should he use it the right way, he could bring down the wall."

"Is there something that could stop it?" Rhysand asked, he seemed desperate for an answer. The carver turned his gaze to me. The same process. I blinked, and crossed my arms, gripping my elbows.

"Tell me something you've never told anyone, Cursebreaker." The carver demanded softly. I thought back, I blinked. I exhaled and started, "In death, there was a choice." I continued as my voice shook. "I knew that if I wanted to, I could refuse the power they were giving me. I could die, and go on to whatever awaited me in the next life."

"Why didn't you?" The carver asked. I swallowed, "Because there was something tying me to this place. It's hard to explain. It wasn't our bargain bond, the thing between us." I motioned to Rhysand.

"It was like a power, a guiding hand gripped around me that wouldn't let go." My shaking hands somehow rolled up the sleeve on my left arm. "It left me this," Right on my shoulder was a marking. It looked like a brand. A spirit holding a sword, but the spirit had the wings of a bird. "When bad things are near me it burns. Telling me to run."

Rhysand looked pale. The carver answered, "A long time ago a book was made by the ancients. Built to combat the cauldron. Called the Book of Breathings; it was split into two pieces."

"Who has them?" Rhysand questioned. The carver was silent. Rhysand glared at me, "Don't you offer him one more-"

"The human queens have one half," The carver said. "The other half was given to the Summer Court to guard."

Rhysand nodded, he gripped my hand and dragged me out of the prison. We passed a door and I almost screamed.

Screeching echoed throughout the halls. My shoulder burned, it felt like it was on fire. Rhysand gripped my hand tighter and pulled me to the top. I didn't feel the burning stop until we exited the prison. Rhysand pulled up my sleeve and rubbed at my shoulder.