Curse-Maker- the Tale of Gwiddon Crow by Alydia Rackham

Author:Alydia Rackham [Rackham, Alydia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781794112582
Published: 2019-01-28T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

I awoke too early on the morning of the fourth day.

I opened my eyes, and stared into the low fire, feeling inside me that the sun hadn’t yet come up. My brow slowly furrowed, and I groaned. I shifted painfully, and pressed my hands to my gut, drawing my knees up toward my chest.

These past three days, I had been doing everything in my power to ignore it, but the deep ache in my gut had spread through all my bones, and the hurt that had wracked my body when I fell down the stairs had not faded like it should. If only Baba Yaga would answer me…She would know a potion that could make me feel better…

A black cloud covered my thoughts.

Baba Yaga. Who had written that letter to Mordred…

I twisted, pressing my face into the furs I was lying on, and let out another groan through my teeth.

I pushed myself into a sitting position, feeling a cold sweat break out on my forehead—and my vision blinked in and out once. I sat very still, regulating my breathing, until that sense of dizziness passed. I started to get up…

Sat back down.

I stared into the fire.

I felt so weak. As if I’d been lying in bed with a fever for weeks. And there, behind my heartbeat, I could almost feel the Great Seal. Like something alive and burning, deep inside me, yet as faraway as the moon. It listened to me, saying nothing. Like a panther watching its prey from the darkness.

I gritted my teeth, reached out and braced my hand on a bench, then pushed myself up onto my knees, took a breath, and got all the way to my feet.

My stomach turned over. Maybe if I walked around a bit…

I left the guardroom, taking slow, elderly steps, setting my hand against the chilly wall as I went, and stepped into the Great Hall.

The huge chamber’s cold emptiness greeted me silently, and my shuffling footsteps echoed against the hard walls. The torches burnt low, the shadows deep. I took deep breaths, focusing only on reaching the next pillar in front of me, then the next, then the next…

My toe kicked something. I stopped.

The something skidded away from me on the marble floor, then slid to a stop. I frowned.

It was a book.

I blinked.

It was Mordred’s book.

I hadn’t given it a second thought since the day I arrived. But now that I recalled, I had dropped it when I had turned to a crow, trying to flee. And I hadn’t laid eyes on it again until now.

Wincing, I closed the distance, laboriously bent down, and picked it up. Its cover felt warm. Setting my teeth, I tucked it into my belt, turned around, and made my way back to the guardroom.

I had started sweating icily when I came back to the hearth, and sank down, panting. I pulled one of the rugs off the floor and covered my legs, shivering as I set my shoulder against the side of the fireplace.

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