Page 68 of Shattered Jewel

“Right.” I let out another sigh, but this one’s heavy with dread. It tastes like iron and feels like a stone sinking into the pit of my stomach.

“We will find it,” I say, more to myself than Sasha. “We have to.”

I say it to assure myself that finding Maverick’s killer is my top priority, but the guys’ faces keep taking shape in the sifting bubbles on the water’s surface. Cav, Axe, Wilder…

Kaspian.

They’re bound by the same chains Maverick was. And I don’t want them to die, too.

After a while, I rise from the tepid water, feeling a little more composed. Sasha hands me a fluffy towel, and I wrap myself in its comfort.

“We should start with Clover,” Sasha suggests cautiously after a moment. “I looked up her name while you were gone. You know, the girl who lives with those professors and TAs.”

The steam from the bath dissipates, almost like the release of a loving embrace as I take in Sasha’s words.

I know exactly who she’s talking about. Clover, the girl who seems to have her claws in all four Vultures, plus her brother. A part of me wants to be grossed out by it, but another part understands the need to be loved by more than one man and to love them in return. They each bring something different. Something—essential.

I bite my lip, contemplating the idea.

“Are you sure, Sash?” I ask. “It’s risky, and we hardly know anything about her.”

Sasha grins, her eyes sparkling with that familiar confidence I’ve come to rely on. “When has that ever stopped us before? And let’s be honest, we’re pretty desperate.”

“She could tell us more about my ancestry,” I muse as we pad into my childhood bedroom, and I rifle through the drawers for pajamas. “Didn’t she do that paper on the Anderton lineage last semester?”

“That’s right. Professor Morgan posted it outside his class as some kind of proof that his occult studies class is awesome. Not that he has to. That class is impossible to get into,” Sasha gripes.

I can’t help but chuckle at her unwavering enthusiasm. Her normalcy is infectious, and maybe it’s exactly what I need right now.

“Alright, we’ll talk to Clover. But we need to be careful. The Vultures are just as dangerous as the Court. I don’t want to get caught in their crosshairs again.”

“Clearly, they already have their eyes on you, Elara,” Sasha counters with a pointed look. “So we might as well use their current interest to our advantage.”

I wince, knowing she’s right. My encounters with the Vultures have been far from pleasant, but if Clover can give me any lead on Maverick’s killer or the other half of the ruby, I’m willing to endure it.

Taking a deep breath, I lay out my plan. “Let’s go to the Vultures’ place tomorrow night. We need to be discreet about it.”

“Why? Scared they’ll peck out our eyes?” She snorts. “Sorry. Bad joke. Can I borrow some pj’s?”

I roll my eyes at her quip but clench my fists tighter against the soft cotton of my pajamas. I can still feel the disturbing strokes of Kaspian’s fingertips on my skin, the way I floundered underneath his touch, begging for more even as he degraded me.

What does that make me?

Sasha sobers up instantly at my sudden change in body language.

“We’ll be careful,” she promises.

“Grab some pj’s from the drawer.” I move to one side of my canopy-covered bed while slinging the ruby necklace over my head until it rests between my breasts under my shirt. “Tomorrow, we’ll take more of our stuff from the dorms. This house is empty now, and it shouldn’t be. Mom wouldn’t want it that way.”

“Wouldn’t the dorms be safer than here, in the middle of the forest?”

“You think the RAs and private security guards will protect us from a violent, powerful secret society that has been operating underground for centuries?” I say after a mild snort. “This house is covered in Mom’s handmade, highly illegal safety measures. Consider Farrow Estate to be like the movie Home Alone, except with a background in paranoia, murder, and plenty of time on her hands.”

Sasha takes in my childhood room with new eyes. “Yep, okay, then. We can stay here as long as you need.”

As we both settle into bed for the night, sleep comes fitfully. Each time I close my eyes, I see Axe and all the old scars on his body, layered on each other now that the Sovereigns are running out of smooth skin. And Cav, lying pale and bloodless in his bed, torn bandages around his torso staining his sheets as he roared and hallucinated. Wilder, dangling above a cliff, pretending to topple off, but a brief twist in his expression told me it wasn’t entirely a joke.

Kaspian appears to me last, an inhuman slant to his lips as he pushed down on my center with the thick sole of his shoe, bringing me ecstasy under his brutal control—his irises a reflective prism of green, a kaleidoscope of emotions he couldn’t keep hidden when I shattered underneath him. Regret, guilt, penitence…

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