I examined the clasp again, but there was no catch or release trigger that I could see. I tugged on it, but the clasp wouldn’t budge. “Stones and sky!” I swore. “Open!” I pulled hard and my hand slipped, the catch slicing painfully across my finger.

Click.

The book fell out of my hands and landed with a thud on the table, pages open. I quickly looked over my shoulder to ensure I was alone, then shone my light on the pages. The language looked the same as that on the cover, written in a tiny but neat hand. The open pages were thick with words and little drawings, but I understood none of it. Tentatively, I reached down to flip the page.

Dizziness washed through me and I closed my eyes, focused on keeping the contents of my stomach where they were. When I opened them again, I gasped aloud. The words were as clear to me as if they were my native tongue.

“Love potion,” I read aloud. The ingredients were plants and herbs that I’d never heard of – the only thing that was familiar was stallion’s urine. Three drops of the potion were to be served in red wine to the man in question, and it would be at its most potent at the stroke of midnight. “Yuck.” I flipped to the previous page: “Infliction of Boils.” Vile. I turned the pages, and my disappointment grew. The spells were petty and trivial – the sorts of things a silly village girl would use to improve her fortune or embarrass her enemies. There was nothing as grand as how to break a mountain, curse a troll, or live forever. The only spell that looked useful was one for healing, but judging from the lack of wear on that page, healing arts were not where Anushka’s interests had lain.

The spells started to grow darker. I read page after page of recipes that weren’t spells at all, but poisons designed to inflict great pain and even death. There were many that would end a pregnancy – of the witch herself or of her chosen victim. It was here that she began to use sacrifices in the rituals. Chickens, sheep, cattle – it seemed the more difficult and ugly the spell the greater the sacrifice required.

Trolls.

My eyes took in the Chapter heading, and then a hand closed on my shoulder.

Chapter 20

Cécile

“Find anything interesting?”

Twisting in my chair, I looked up at Élise. She didn’t seem to recognize the grimoire for what it was. “It’s all very interesting,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. The last thing I needed was the trolls finding out I’d opened Anushka’s diary – with my luck, they’d take it away before I got the chance to finish reading it. “None of it was very helpful, though.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders slumped, and I felt instantly guilty. She and all the other half-bloods were relying on me, and so far I had done nothing to prove my worth. But at least I was trying, which was more than I could say for Tristan, their leader. There was no way they knew his true feelings about breaking the curse – they’d have turned on him in an instant if they did. And I had no intention of letting that happen.