Page 65 of A Sin So Pure

“They’re the wings of a Seelie I killed for Pride,” she says.

“Why would you keep them?” I ask.

Our words have become quiet, hushed. Suddenly, our voices ring too loud in the room.

Nora’s throat bobs. She brushes a stray piece of hair behind my ear; the tender touch pulls a flush to the apples of my cheeks.

“They’re a reminder of what’s at stake if I fail,” she says.

“Fail at what?” I ask.

Her eyes narrow, flicking back to the wings as if a memory is replaying behind those gemlike irises.

“Anything. Everything.”

A beat passes between us.

“Did you do it yourself?” I ask.

Nora clears her throat. She shifts, though she keeps me in her embrace. I can tell she’s having trouble getting the words out, so I wait for her.

Slowly, with intention, they fall from her lips.

“Pride cut those. But others…” she trails off. “He had me take over clippings once I turned eighteen.”

“He had you doing that all through college?”

“He thought it important for me to build respect within the House.”

Respect. I hold back a scoff at the word.

There is a difference between respect turned from fear and respect that is earned.

Pride clearly had a tendency to lead with the former.

“Including Josie’s?”

Nora sighs. Her lashes flutter with memories I can’t see as she presses her forehead to mine.

“No. I didn’t shear Josie’s wings. But I was there, holding her hand. And she did the same for me.”

For the first time in ten years, I sense a small tendril of emotion slip past her mental shields—a deep-rooted grief sinks my gut.

As quickly as my magic picks the feeling up, it’s gone; the emotional void around Nora swallows it whole.

A pounding on the door has me jumping out of Nora’s embrace. Even Nora flinches, muttering a curse. Her brows pinch together as she opens the door, revealing an equally sleep-rumpled Josie.

“What’s wrong?” Nora asks, back immediately straightening with concern.

“Hattie’s downstairs, freaking out…” Josie’s eyes dart to me and quickly back to Nora, pink rushing to her cheeks. “I think it best for you to hear it from her yourself, but shit’s gone down human-side. Again.”

17

NORA

Iwould be lying if I said it didn’t hurt when I turn the corner and see the burned carcass of our warehouse. All our hard work over the past year reduced to smoking rubble.

The large paned glass windows are blown out from the fire and are now shimmering, deadly confetti scattered on the street. Once a brilliant red brick, the face of the building is scarred with black where the flames licked, like necrosis spreading over flesh.

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