Page 81 of Premonition of Peace

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and moved silently from the greenhouse and appeared at the door outside the attic. All was quiet, apart from the distant sounds of battle.

My throat constricted. A knot tightened in my stomach as I slowly unlocked the door—mentally breaking the chains. They hit the wooden floor with a thud. The door swung open on creaking hinges.

Everything was as I remembered.

Blood-stained floors.

A dozen candles, all burned to the base and smoking.

Thousands of glass shards floating in a circle.

In the center of it all was Little. A small, brown-eyed girl with tear-stained cheeks. She huddled in on herself, knees pulled to her chest. Her arms wrapped around them tightly.

My heart stuttered.

Thensheappeared.

Rage.

Her hair floated like the glass, eyes glowing a burnished gold color. Her clothes were ripped, her fingers stained red. She looked more than a little feral.

I opened my mouth to speak but the words wouldn’t come.

How did I apologize to myself for all the time spent with my head in the sand? How could I find the right way to own the injustice committed?

Everything felt so hollow when faced with the reality of what I’d done.

“What? No words?” Rage said, voice dripping with poison. “You’re here to apologize and ask for my help, are you not?”

“I—yes, but how do you?—”

She huffed a bitter laugh. “The memory loci is under attack. I don’t have to be Ann to know that you’d come for me when it suits you.”

“Rage, I’m sorry—” I stumbled over my apology. Her upper lip pealed back in disgust.

“Save it. It’s not like you mean it anyway.”

“That’s the thing. I do mean it. The others—they were right. I was wrong to lock you away. What happened . . . it wasn’t your fault, even though I blamed you for it. I . . . I don’t have the words to express how sorry I am for locking you both away, because the words don’t exist. Nothing I say will compare to actions, and for nearly a decade mine have been atrocious.” I sucked in a tight breath, trying to get my lungs to expand despite the uncomfortable tightness in my chest.

“You’re right,” Rage said, that all too familiar fire burning in her golden gaze. “But I meant what I said. I don’tneedyour apology. Not now. Not ever.”

“But I—” My lips parted in shock.

Rage extended a hand. The glass parted. Little got to her feet and slowly padded forward. Small fingers closed around the offered hand like it was a lifeline.

“How do I make this right?”

Rage stared straight ahead, not looking at me. Beyond us, explosions went off. Wood splintered. Furniture was thrown from one end of the room to the other. We heard it all. And yet there was only silence in that moment.

I didn’t think she was going to answer, but she did. “I don’t know that you can ever make it right, but I can promise you this—when it’s done, if we live, you willneverlock me away again, orIwill tear this loci apart myself.”

I swallowed hard. It burned, her ire, but I’d earned it. And if we survived, I’d find a way to live with it too. “You have my word. I won’t lock you up again. Either of you.”

Rage’s gaze slid to me, measuring what my word was worth. She must have found it worth something because she nodded once and strode past me, taking Little with her.

Before she could make it to the door, the floor began to shake. A shudder went through the house, and then the ground gave way. We fell through the air, no more than a second before landing on broken wood and shattered glass.

I tried to sit up, but the glass was embedded in my hands. Every twitch of muscle, pushing it deeper beneath my skin. The breath hissed from between my teeth. An eerie laugh surrounded me.

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