The Cursed Blood novel · Chapter 4 of 32

Chapter 4: Ground

The old man looked at the treaty in his head for a long time.

Then he looked at Conall.

Conall gave one short nod.

"It's in the treaty," the old man said. "Entered."

Margaux smiled at me across the ring.

"Hello, Isla," she said. "You left your tray."

"You can carry it for me. You've got the coat for it."

Somebody in the ring laughed, and turned it into a cough.

Margaux's smile didn't move. Her eyes did.

The Ground round started at noon.

The elders had staked out thirteen squares of earth along the Line, each the size of a grave, each with something buried under it.

"Tell us what's down there," the honey elder said. "Who put it there. Why. You have until the shadow touches that stone."

Thirteen candidates knelt.

I took my square nearest the big stones, because my legs had chosen it before I had.

Hettie took the one beside me.

Margaux took the one on my other side, peeled off one white glove, and laid two fingers on the dirt.

I put both palms down.

The ground was easier this time.

It came up through my hands like warm water through a sieve.

"A knife," I said under my breath. "Wrapped in cloth. Silk. With little knots on the edge."

I went further.

A woman's hands, sixty years younger, digging fast.

Wet cheeks. Hard jaw. Not grief.

Relief.

I almost laughed.

Beside me, Hettie had her eyes squeezed shut and her tongue between her teeth.

"Beans," she whispered. "It's a pot of beans. Why would anyone bury beans?"

"Are you guessing?"

"Obviously I'm guessing. I'm a pastry omega." She opened one eye. "But it smells like beans. Doesn't it? Under the dirt?"

I didn't smell anything.

I filed that away.

On my other side, Margaux had stopped touching the dirt altogether.

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