Tallah’s myopic stare dropped down to her tea, and there was a long silence. “I did use it once.” Those watery eyes lifted. “But just so we are clear, I received the information about its power from Rehvenge’s mahmen—and she told me how to ask for its presence. Which is how I know about this.”

As the female indicated the silver dish, Mae sat up straight in her chair. “What did you use it for? Did it work? Did you . . .”

“It was not to bring someone back, no.” Tallah worried the little blue bow on the end of her long, white braid. “In truth, I wanted to disappear somebody. I wanted the female who was taking my hellren from me to disappear.”

“And what happened,” Mae prompted in a whisper.

Tallah shook her head. Then shook it again. “You’re different. Your intentions are nothing as mine were.”

“What happened,” Mae said more loudly.

“The outcome put me here.” Tallah motioned around the simple kitchen. “And it hasn’t been a bad life. A different life, but not bad. It turns out that what I liked most about my old station was what it sounded like as I detailed it to others. The actual living part of things was not quite so edifying.”

“Did you kill someone?” And Mae feared the answer.

“I wanted her to disappear. That is all.” Tallah swiped her hand through the air. “But none of that matters now. As I said, you are different. Your heart is pure. There is no evil shade to what you seek. You want to put matters right and return what was stolen unfairly—and intention matters. I was jealous. Possessive.”

“He was your mate.”

“The heart of another is never ours to demand if it is not freely given. That was the lesson I had to learn. Even after she was gone . . . he did not want me. Therefore, I received what I asked for, but not the result I desired. In fact, my hellren was so consumed by his grief, he could not be consoled, and the harder I tried, the more he resented me. He sent me away, banished me from his great bloodline, and all I could afford was this, given that no one would purchase any of my things. Disgraced females are not a provenance any collector wants. We can turn even masterpieces into junk—and I have no contacts in the human world.”

So it wasn’t that Tallah had been determined to retain her possessions after all, Mae thought.

“I am so sorry.”

Tallah looked around as though she were taking in the cottage as a whole. “I have had a long time to consider my choices, their outcome, and my situation. You make peace with your circumstance, or you destroy yourself from the inside out.” Refocusing, she reached over and squeezed Mae’s arm. “That is why intention matters. I only imagined the female gone. I did not picture my mate and I happy and together. You get what you ask for, so make your intention clear when you seek to have the Book come to you.”

Struck by a compulsion to know exactly what had happened to the other female, Mae nonetheless kept that line of questioning to herself. Besides, this wasn’t about Tallah’s past. This was about Mae’s present—and from out of her most vivid, painful memories, she saw Rhoger collapsing as he came in through the front door, his strength spent, blood on his clothes, a desperate sound exploding out of him as he hit the floor and bounced as if he were already dead.

She had tried to keep him alive. She had failed. He died in her arms, her beloved brother . . . gone.

“It wasn’t fair,” she said. “What happened to Rhoger.”

“I agree. You need to seek an audience with the King. You should tell the Black Dagger Brotherhood what was done unto your brother. They can help you find the assailant who attacked him, and ensure that justice is properly served.”

“If only I knew what happened, though. Rhoger died before he could tell me.”

“If you bring him back, he can tell them himself.”

Mae blinked. Stupidly, she’d never considered that.

Focusing on the knife, she felt herself split into two halves. One that urged caution with this folly. The other that . . .

“What am I doing here again?” she demanded.

“Picture your good result, which would be your brother alive and healthy by your side, the two of you reunited. Imagine how you need help to get there. Have your mind full of this as you cut your palm across your lifeline. Then ask for the Book to come to you.”

“And that’s it.”

“That’s how I was told it worked, and that’s how I used this spell. Although once you’ve asked, it does take time, it’s not an immediate thing . . . but it has worked before and I believe it will work now.”

Do not do this, a voice in the back of Mae’s head said. This is wrong. This is a door that should remain unopened—

Squeezing her eyes shut, she pictured Rhoger in that ice water, the cubes floating above his haunted, vacant stare. As her pain washed over her, she opened up the vault in her heart and put her fearful hope out into . . . well, the universe because she wasn’t sure she believed in the Scribe Virgin.

She tried to see Rhoger alive and by her side—

Mae closed a fist around the knife and gasped as she pulled the blade through. With her lids popping open, she got a clear image of red blood dropping through the knot of her hand and landing with a splash in the milky tincture in the bottom of the silver dish.

Drop. Drop. Drop—

She wasn’t sure what she expected. But as moments turned into minutes, and all there was . . . was the dripping . . . a piercing dissatisfaction went through her. This was a folly, a fantasy born of her desperation and Tallah’s desire to repay the service of Mae’s mahmen. A dead end—

Tallah took something out of the big pocket of her housecoat, her bony hand extending over the table.

Held in her trembling fingers was a small triangular piece of what looked like parchment, two sides of it smooth as if cut, the long side uneven as if torn.

“That is from the Book,” Mae breathed.

“I have saved it all these years. Saved it for . . . if I needed it. Thus I give this unto your quest.”

At that, Tallah put the fragment into the silver dish—

The flash was bright and hot enough to have both of them shoving back from the table, Mae’s hand and wrist humming with a sudden heat, a rhythmic pounding of pain in her palm having nothing to do with the knife cut.

All around the cottage, lights dimmed and flickered, and a gust of wind rattled the windows.

Everything went black.

Mae’s chair fell over backward as she leaped to her feet. “Tallah, what’s happening—”

There was a squeak on the other side of the table and then the sickening thud of the old female’s body hitting the floor.

“Tallah!” Mae scrambled around the chairs, bumping into them, scattering them in a cacophony of noise. “Where are you—”

All at once, the lights came back on. No more flickering of electricity. No more sounds outside. Down on the floorboards, Tallah was sprawled unconscious, her eyes rolled back, the whites glowing as if she had been possessed by—

With a snort and a gasp, the elderly female came to, her wrinkled face registering shock. Then she lifted her head and looked around as if she had no idea where she was.

Mae knelt down and took careful hold of one of those wrinkled hands. “Are you okay? Let’s take you to the healer’s clinic. I have my car—”