Page 78 of The Secrets of Roan Island

“If there are any.”

If Zarah hears me, she doesn’t respond.

The only chance we have of ending this bloody cycle is the possibility that Noah might love me, which feels… conceivable. But love? And even if he does, there’s no way Hammish will let Noah bite me, not without a fight, not when it would mean Hammish would lose the power he delights in wielding against his sons.

“Would you help me button this? Mrs. Darning usually does it for me.” Zarah spins around, the lace of the dress draped to reveal the smooth skin of her back. The covered buttons create a line down her spine from the top of her neck to her tailbone. There are so many of them that my fingertips ache by the time I’m finished. Then I turn and she helps me with the laces that weave up the back of my dress, leaving gaps of skin between the ties. My shoulders and neck are also completely exposed. For the bite. And Hammish’s pleasure.

The thought makes me glad I haven’t had anything to eat today. My skin crawls, and every spot he touched me earlier burns. I suddenly have the urgent desire to fill the tub and scrub every part of me raw. But it’s too late for that now. We’re already dressed, and Hammish will be here soon.

When I turn to look at Zarah, her eyes drop to my neck. I lift my hand and feel the raised tissue where Noah bit me earlier. No longer a wound, no longer bleeding, but scarred in a way that his other bites didn’t.

Zarah smiles, a devious smile. “That is going to drive my father to distraction.”

Shit, that’s not what I want. “Do you have a scarf or something I can use to cover it?”

“Why?”

“He’ll hurt Noah.”

“He’ll hurt them all no matter what you do.” She finishes her hair, letting the braid fall over one shoulder.

“How can you be so cavalier about that? They’re your brothers.”

Her eyes flash black as her gaze meets mine in the mirror. “They’ll live.”

I shake my head with disbelief at her indifference. “I don’t want him to hurt. I want to protect him. Shouldn’t his own sister want that too?”

Her answering laugh rattles my nerves. “And what about what I want? I’m a ghost in my own house. I haven’t been outside in years. Haven’t had a friend to talk to. Haven’t known another's touch.” Her eyes roam my body as if she can see every place Noah claimed. “My brothers may hurt momentarily for my father’s amusement or punishment, but they’lllive.” She waves a hand at the room. “This isn’t living.”

I drop my gaze. “I’m sorry.” I empathize with her plight, having experienced what I did with David, but I don’tunderstand her willingness to allow her brothers’ pain. But then I realize this is her norm, like David’s abuse became mine. It makes me ache for them, for all of them, but I don’t put a voice to it. In the short time I’ve known Zarah, I know she wouldn’t appreciate my sympathy.

“Would you like me to do your hair?” she asks, changing the subject as if the last few minutes never happened.

“Alright.” I sit at her feet and let her brush through my waves, working out the knots.

“Are you afraid?” she asks as she tugs on a lock.

I am, but I don’t want to admit it, so instead I ask, “What will happen?”

My head moves as she twists my hair, pinning a piece, then starting on another.

“Hammish will take us to the temple. There, he’ll engage the blood rights and ask for the goddess’s blessing on the proceedings. That part always drags on and on. He likes the sound of his own voice.”

“Could I get to Noah then?”

She tugs a little too hard, and I wince. “Maybe if you cut Hammish’s throat.”

I don’t balk at the statement. I’d love nothing more. “Will there be a knife?”

“Of course. Blood rights.” Her tone makes it sound like she’s rolling her eyes at my stupidity. “It will be on the altar, but the cut has to be deep enough that it will take time to heal so that one of us can finish the job.”

I swallow considering it.

“There,” she says. “Done. Look.”

I get up, look in the mirror, and gasp. “It’s stunning.” She’s threaded little iridescent pearls into my braided locks, pulled back into a woven bun at the nape of my neck. Gentle tendrilsframe my face, making me look beautiful even if it’s macabre. She’s clearly skilled.

She smiles shyly. “I haven’t had a lot to occupy me.”

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