Page 145 of Cursed

“Do it,” Lucian urged again, and there was impatience in his tone. I took another step forward, but each movement was slow and agonizing, as if I were wading through thick mud.

The black dagger—sharpened stone with a wicked edge that was almost transparent—was heavy in my hand. My heart beat faster as I drew near, the oppressive atmosphere closing in around me, nearly suffocating. A flicker of satisfaction sparked in my chest, a grim justification for what I was about to do.

Clara deserved this, didn’t she?

I deserved justice.

Retribution.

But another part, the soft, innocent part of me, recoiled in horror at the thought of spilling blood—even hers.

Only a few steps away, Clara glared up at me and fought against the grip of the guards who held her. “You can’t— You can’t do this! Do you know who my father is?”

Yes, I did.

I remembered her telling meexactlywho her father was while she mocked me for not having one.

While she taunted me with details of my father’s death… I’d thought she was lying. All those years ago. I hadn’t believed her.

But I should have.

She had been telling the truth.

“Avril—” Lucian’s voice was a warning.

“Hurry,”the grimoire whispered.

What would happen if I refused? What would happen if I— if I made a mistake?

Death.

Mydeath.

“Choose,”the grimoire’s whispers taunted me.“You must choose!”

I closed my eyes and took a breath—slow—calming—but all it did was bring into focus how hard my heart was beating, and how desperately I wanted to escape this place.

There was no going back now.

Two more steps brought me to Clara.

The guards had concealed their faces, but I could sense every eye in the room upon me. Including theirs.

Clara’s indignation and terror burned in her blue eyes—her perfect porcelain doll face—a face I had envied and hated at the same time. A face that had haunted my nightmares for too many years.

A moment’s courage.

“Why did you do it?” I asked.

Clara’s mouth twisted. “What?”

“Why did you do it?” I repeated. “Why did you— why did you destroy my life? What had I ever done to you?”

Clara’s lip curled. “You? You didn’t have to do anything— You shouldn’t have been there. You didn’tbelongthere—”

“But what did I do to you? Why did I matter so much to you?”

Clara let out a short laugh and a shiver of memory brought back every taunt, every hurt she had ever inflicted on me.

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