Midnight Rose - Emma Hamm Page 0,4

light caught on the edges, enhanced by its inner lights. “We call this a blood stone. It contains the reserve magic that allows us all to cast spells.”

Rhea had always wondered what they did with the extra magic. She knew none of them housed their own spells. They were conduits, nothing more, nothing less. But she’d never actually seen raw power like this.

“I thought magic could only be given,” she whispered. Her eyes watered, held too wide as she stared. “Was I wrong?”

The High Priestess replied, “That is how priestesses cast spells. We are not the keepers of the bloodstones. The alchemists have the revered role of ensuring their safety. And now, you will be one of the few priestesses who deliver bloodstones to them.”

Rhea could have stared at the stone for hours. But the High Priestess’s words caught in her mind, rolling around until she could think of nothing else. Shaking herself free from the stone’s spell, she blinked at the High Priestess. “I don’t know how to make bloodstones, though.”

“None of the priestesses do. Few of them are attached to Dread capable of producing such power.” She reached out and held onto Rhea’s shoulder, squeezing hard. “You will be attached to a Dread like that. You will serve the Lord of the Dread himself.”

Any other priestess might have hidden her reaction to the words. But Rhea was young, and she didn’t have a mask to hide behind. She felt all the color drain from her cheeks and a cold sweat bead on her exposed skin.

The Lord of the Dread?

She’d heard stories of the massive creature who roamed the plains. His horns weren’t like the others, they were tipped with metal so he could run through his victims like a bull. The priestesses who’d seen him claimed he exhaled smoke every time he breathed, like a demon from the depths of the Underworld. His wrath was something to be feared. The last priestess they’d sent to him was returned in a box.

Well, only her tongue was returned in that ornate wooden crate. No one had seen any other parts of her sense, so they assumed he’d devoured the rest.

Tears burned the edges of her vision. Would she be returned just like that priestess? The other woman likely had far more training than she did.

The leader of the alchemists reacted like he was used to women crying around him. Maybe he was. He sighed, pocketed the stone once more, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I told you someone as young as this one shouldn’t be paired with the Lord of the Dread.”

The High Priestess scoffed. “She’ll be fine. She’s one of the brightest apprentices we have, and she’ll learn quickly.”

Rhea felt courage bloom from the High Priestess’s words. Was she really the brightest apprentice? She would have thought that to be Aurora, the prettiest of them all. She was quick witted too and had a need to succeed that made her ruthless.

But then again, maybe the Lord of the Dread could see into the souls of the priestesses. Wasn’t that what Laurel had told her once? He peered deep into the heart of a person and weighed whether they were worthy of his time. If they weren’t, then he consumed them.

She straightened her spine, squared her shoulders, and buried her fear deep into her chest. “I won’t fail you.” Her words echoed in the empty chamber, warping into a sound like laughter at her false bravery.

The leader of the alchemists peered up and down her entire body, then sniffed. “We’ll see about that. You have a lot to prove, apprentice. I hope you don’t follow the same path as the last priestess we sent into his service.”

She thought it safe to assume they were all hoping the same thing. If she could bring back many of the bloodstones, then they’d see how worthy she was of this esteemed position. And if she died, then they’d have to find another priestess to take her place. No one wanted to go through another Choosing.

Rhea bowed, then asked one last question. “You said the Dread will pick the priestess they desire. How are we going to get him to pick me?”

If she looked like Laurel’s illusion, she might not worry. But Rhea was a wisp of a girl. She wasn’t powerful or strong in the slightest. The Lord of the Dread probably wouldn’t even notice she was in the room, let alone choose her for himself. Even if she made herself