Ward Against Disaster (Entangled Teen) (Chronicles of a Reluctant Necromancer) by Card Melanie

Author:Card, Melanie [Card, Melanie]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: richelle mead, necromancer, young adult, sherrilyn kenyon, paranormal romance, first love, wizards, manga
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC
Published: 2015-01-18T16:00:00+00:00

Nineteen

Half an hour later, Ward paced the sitting room where Talbot’s men had put him, his teeth still chattering, his chest still tight with rage. Celia waited in the room across the hall and both doors were guarded. Nazarius and Jotham were with Talbot, likely trying to convince the Duke not to execute Ward for using blood magic.

Except all Ward could think about was what had happened. Please, Goddess, it couldn’t be Diestro’s curse. It just couldn’t be. It had to be something else, like the foreman’s rith had rare powers, something, anything.

But a rith couldn’t possess more than one person at a time. An enraged spirit couldn’t divide itself up to control many spirits. Nothing could. Except the curse. And all those people had been possessed.

The word curse raced through him over and over again. The only way he stood a chance of doing anything against the curse was with true, human blood magic. His hand, now wrapped in a bandage, still wept blood, but just his blood wouldn’t be enough. He needed more, a lot more.

His stomach churned, and the cold within him sank lower into his gut. He couldn’t believe he’d thought that. It was exactly what the curse wanted. It was bad enough he’d used as much blood as he had trying to control the rith. He couldn’t cross the line to a true blood magi.

And yet, he’d never be strong enough any other way. There wasn’t time to wait for the Necromancer Council of Elders to arrive, and even if they did, there was no telling whether they’d be able to destroy the curse, either—especially if the first attempt more than two hundred years ago, with the Union’s most powerful Brother of Light, hadn’t destroyed it.

But Ward’s soul was already on the edge of being damned, if it wasn’t already. What was his soul compared to the lives of thousands?

He rubbed his face with his freezing hands. Goddess, this was such a mess. If he could just focus maybe he’d be able to figure out what had to be done. He shoved his hands in his pockets to warm them. His fingers hit the locket, and he pulled it out. When he’d used the locket to uncover a secret grave, the gold oval had pulsed with light. Its magic had thrummed like a heartbeat, sure and strong.

Now…nothing. It was a plain old locket. He slid his thumb over the small, dark stone inset in its top. Celia might like it. It was simple—probably too simple for what she was accustomed to, since she was the daughter of a nobleman—but he could use it to show her how he felt.

Which was ridiculous. She probably didn’t want any gifts from him. And really, he was only avoiding the only possible solution to the imminent problem at hand. He knew what had to be done to even just hold the curse at bay. He just didn’t want to accept it.

The door opened with a creak. Ingrith stood in the entrance holding a tray with a pitcher, a washbowl, and a towel.

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