Page 38 of Night of Death and Flowers

My muscles tense. “You want me to allow a traitor to be freed?”

She taps her fingers against her hip in a rhythmic motion, guiding my attention to her body. “It was my fault. Besides, it was only a statue.”

My jaw tightens, irritated by the power this mortal wields over me—a god, who she should be worshiping. The witch deserves to be punished for her impertinence. “I will free him,” I say, delighting in her naïve, grateful expression. “But first, we must seal this deal in blood.”

“A blood oath,” she whispers, mulling over the implications. She mentioned her sisters, who I assume she wants to protect. “When must I leave? Do I have time to say goodbye to my family?”

“The family you say does not love you?”

“My sisters,” she clarifies.

She slides her long, brown locks over her shoulders with a graceful, hypnotic motion. Whenever she leans forward or touches her neck, I inexplicably gravitate towards her, which only deepens my aggravation.

I clear my throat. “You have until The Harvest, and you can attend The Choosing ceremony.”

Loud dongs sound in the distance, echoing throughout the town, signaling that The Choosing rites have begun.

In less than three hours, the sacrifices will be selected.

“Okay, then, I agree,” she says as the anticipation of time staggers around us.

She grabs her dagger, then presses the blade into her hand before extending it to me. I arch my brow, as if such things like contact are normal. I slice my hand, then intertwine my fingers with hers, closing my eyes as she tightens her grip.

“With this oath, I swear you will not die by my hand, or by my order. I agree to free your friend, Drake, from the Incarcuri tonight. And in return, you promise to leave Dahryst before The Harvest, or your sisters will suffer the consequences.”

She gulps, her fingers twitching, before she finally whispers, “I promise.”

A glittering, red swirl materializes around our fingers as our blood unites, sealing the deal. I close my eyes briefly, catching my breath as the magic dissipates.

When I open my eyes, my attention is drawn to a set of half-moon scars peeking from under the sleeve of Calista’s dress. I let go of her hand and grab her arm, turning it so I can examine it more closely. She attempts to slip free, but my firm hold prevents her from retreating and concealing the healed wounds. “What happened here?”

“A mother’s love,” she says quickly, then tears her hand from me. “When will you free Drake?”

“At The Choosing.”

After several seconds, she heaves a deep sigh. “Thank you.” She steps back slowly and turns away from me. Glancing once over her shoulder as she walks between the trees, she lifts the skirts of her brown dress before disappearing into the night.

Once she is out of sight, I stare at my hands, tracing my fingertips over the spot where her touch had been only moments before.

Her words stay with me, and I look at the stars, despising how effortlessly my heart raced when she touched me. Especially when she challenged me. She knows nothing of this world, or of the wars and pain it holds. She demands from me, even though she has my magic and isn’t forced into an eternity living in the shadows, without touch or love.

Tonight, she will learn the cost of such recklessness.

FOURTEEN

Calista

My heart is in my throat as I walk through the decorated front door of my home, knowing it will be one of the last times I see it.

I trace my fingers over the markings on the door frame where I measured Cecilia and Eliana’s height every year since they were five and six, despite my mother’s grumbling about it ruining the décor. A selfish part of me wishes I could take my sisters with me, but I know their lives will be far better here than on the run with me and Drake.

That is if Death keeps his promise. I am nervous I was not careful enough when completing the deal. Adrenaline and panic had me rushing things. Words are everything in a blood oath, and I agreed too quickly, without meticulously considering the details of what I was committing to. Although, now that I think about it, Death made a similar mistake. I am to leave Dahryst, but he said nothing of Tenenocti.

“Cali!” Cecilia exclaims, running down the corridor from the drawing room and I quickly cover the marks on my throat with my cloak.

She leaps into my arms, and I hold her tighter than usual, breathing in the smell of rose petals on her hair.

“Hey, Cee.” My eyelids clamp against the building tears as she rests her head on my shoulder. I brush a hand over her dark-brown braid, then place her back on the ground.

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