Page 29 of Wicked Court

My head’s close to exploding again.

“I don’t know anything more,” she says quietly. “Gram is tight-lipped about anything connected to Sarah, so I stopped asking.”

A knock at my mother’s bedroom door jolts me. We both freeze.

Nerves etch into my mother’s features before I turn—but it’s just a maid with food trays, one of the two employees left on the estate.

The scent of rich soup and warm bread fills the room, making me realize how hungry I am despite feeling so nauseous from talking about witches, curses, and courts.

After the maid leaves, I question mom further. She vaguely discusses Sarah’s beauty, power, and charm, information I could easily look up online, but reminds me I shouldn’t delve into history too much when I should focus on schoolwork and friends at this “sensitive time”.

She means Maverick’s death that happened six years ago, but doesn’t say it aloud.

Her lips are the color of ash despite the hearty soup. The room seems colder now that I know my family’s legacy is loaded with more murder and violence. The ticking of the clock sounds like a warning bell.

Suddenly, I want out of this place.

“Thanks for telling me.” I stand up abruptly, my hand rubbing my aching stomach. “I should go back. I have a study group later.”

She doesn’t stop me as I gather my bag and jacket, not because she wants me to leave, but because she knows something bigger has come between us.

“Okay, sweetie. I’ll see you next time. I love you.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

She hands me back the necklace, the metal still cool despite being held in her hands for so long.

The moonlight paints the property in a chilling white as I walk away from the Wraithwood estate, and I think about the answers I’ve been given. Why I’ve become of such interest to the Cimmerian Court.

I’m part of the dark, bloodstained history of this town.

Just like them.

Chapter 12

Kaspian

My contact leans casually against the wall, flicking their dagger open and closed. This part of Titan Falls has seen better days, all crumbling bricks and boarded windows.

“You’re late,” he hisses under his hood.

“Fashionably so.”

He pushes off the wall, shoving his hands—and the dagger—into the pockets of his long coat.

I get straight to the point. “What do you know?”

“Payment first,” he grumbles.

I sigh and pull out the crisp bills I’ve brought. The sound of cash crinkling fills the empty alleyway as he takes it from me.

“There. You’re bought,” I say. “Now tell me about the ruby Heart. I hear it’s quite the commodity.”

A shaft of moonlight highlights his profile. He squints, studying me for a moment before leading me further down the alleyway. “It is. But I don’t think you can handle it.”

“Why not?” I ask, feigning nonchalance.

He stops abruptly, turning to face me with a closed-mouth smile and obscured eyes.

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