From the Grave – The Arcana Chronicles Read Online Kresley Cole

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Young Adult Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
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I remembered wondering, as a girl, if he would fall to his death or tumble into a new adventure. “Do you think he’ll keep his vow to me never to win again?” If not, which one of us could defeat him?

“I am betting on it.”

Though I did have reason to think otherwise, Matthew still struck me as good. I recalled the way he’d gazed at me with endless trust, and how other kids had ostracized him, having no idea how extraordinary he was. Yet I hadn’t definitively answered his question: Do you trust me?

Matthew’s call reminded me . . . “Will you never reveal what your call is?” Aric’s chronicles hadn’t mentioned it.

A hint of a grin. “I told you I’m beyond one. As the victor of this game, I enjoy certain advantages, such as a stealthy approach when I desire it.”

“But you weren’t always the victor. In that first game, you had a call.”

He inclined his head.

“Aric, tell me!”

In my ear, he rasped, “From the grave, I rise for you.”

Chills broke out over my skin. Sometimes I forgot how deathly he was. As his opponent, I would have been overcome with terror to hear that.

Yet now it struck me as romantic—because I knew he would come for me across eternity. Even death couldn’t keep us apart. . . .

31

The Empress

Day 851 A.F.

“What are you working on today?” I asked Circe as I entered her pool house laboratory with Tee.

The only thing that could make Castle Lethe weirder was the actual practice of witchcraft. An unholy scent mix of sulfur, charcoal, and herbs filled the halls. Circe’s irises would glow like phosphorescence whenever she perused the plant nursery, plucking random sprigs for her potions.

“I’m perfecting the memory spell.” She’d been working on it several hours each day, would only eat when I brought down meals for her. Over the couple of months she’d been here, she’d gained weight and grown stronger. Her eyes were brighter, her smile quicker.

She wiped her hands over her apron, then removed it to reach for Tee. “Come to Auntie.” All of her various cauldrons and beakers along her makeshift workbench bubbled higher with her excitement.

I untangled him from my vines and handed him over. He gurgled to go into Circe’s arms.

“Or at least I’m trying to perfect that spell.” She sat on her laboratory stool with Tee in her lap. With her free hand, she made a show for him, miniature waterspouts dancing on the countertop. “If I get this wrong, I might wipe out all your memories instead.”

“Hey, we have time.” Yet four months had passed since Tee’s birth.

“Do we, Evie Domīnija? Time is a thief.”

I frowned at that saying. People wasted time and spent it. We tried to buy more of it. It could be on our side. But we didn’t often think of it as a measurement of one’s remaining life—a lifetime. Now I couldn’t think of it any other way.

Circe’s next sentence resonated: “And this game is nearing its end.”

“I haven’t given up on stopping this thing.” I sounded like a broken record. “Have you accessed all the memories your own spell preserved?”

“Yes, but I only cast it a few games ago. So I have nothing from the times previous to that. Unlike you. The Fool gave you memories of all your games, no?”

“He said he gave me two games’ worth, but I think he meant that in a quantity type way. I’ve seen scenes from several, but never a whole game.” All I knew for certain was that everything he did was for a reason, as yet unknown. “There’s got to be something on your temple walls that points to a way out of the game.” Those walls were her spell book.

“As I told you, I don’t recall anything. And before you ask, I can never return there. I changed to come here. No matter how dearly I might want to, I’ll never be strong enough to change back to what I was.”

“I understand. We’ll keep studying other chronicles, searching for clues.” My grandmother had told me to watch for symbols, assigning meaning to waypoints on my journey. Connections existed—I’d seen them—but I hadn’t yet made sense of them. “Maybe we overlooked something in the Lovers’ book.” Was I being stubborn by refusing to give up? Yes. I had to be when the alternative was so grim. Jack always said I had a hard head—tête dure. He was right.

What was I missing?

“Empress, the game has been unaltered all this time. If the birth of a child between two players didn’t knock the record off the track, I don’t know what will.”

I sat across from her and Tee. “So you’ve made peace with the fact that so many people we care about will have to die?”

“I was hoping Temperance’s chronicles might be a solution instead of a grail.” A MacGuffin. “But we have to face reality.”


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