Page 22 of Cursed

Pacing wasn’t goingto solve anything.

Neither was sitting on the window seat chewing on my fingers or picking at my nail beds.

The blanket-covered grimoire lay on the floor at the end of my bed, and even though it was shrouded, its whispers still clawed at the edges of my sanity.

When one of the silent servants came to deliver my breakfast, I took a chance.

“Please,” I begged the woman, whose eyes darted nervously around as if she feared that we would be overheard or interrupted at any moment. I wondered for the hundredth time what they had been told about me—were they even allowed to speak to me? “Could you ask— Could you tell Lucian that I would like to walk in the gardens? Just for a little while?”

She hesitated, and desperation burned in my chest. Being confined within these walls was suffocating— but even worse, I was trapped in here with that… thing.

I needed air, sunlight—something to distract me from the dark thoughts that coiled in my mind. “It won’t take long,” I added eagerly. “Just a quick walk to clear my head.”

With a reluctant nod, the servant set my breakfast tray down on my vanity and left the room at a quick pace.

I slid off the window seat and tiptoed toward the bed. I paused in front of the fireplace and glared at the lump under the blanket.

My stomach growled.

I pressed my lips into a thin line.

It’s just a book, just step over it.

But the thought of getting near it was too much.

Instead, I set my knee on the end of the bed and crawled across it. I kept my eyes on the book as I moved and slid off the bed on the other side. I walked toward the vanity with careful steps and pulled the lid from the covered plate that had been brought for me.

The scent of freshly baked bread made my mouth water, and I grabbed for the pastry and pushed it into my mouth without taking my eyes off the book.

What if Lucian said no?

I chewed on the pastry and fretted. If he said no, there was nothing I could do. I’d just have to wait.

I wondered if he was doing it on purpose—to force me to open the book. Force me to give in.

This house.

The men in it…

They all wanted my submission.

But they couldn’t have it.

I’d rather die than—

A knock at the door made me whirl around, and then the door creaked open. A different servant stood in the doorway, her voice a stiff mask. “Master Lucian has agreed to your request,” she said sternly. “A guard will accompany you when you are ready to leave.”

A shape loomed behind her. My escort.

I swallowed my mouthful so quickly that I almost choked.

“Thank you—” I said between coughs.

The woman’s eyebrow rose, but she didn’t comment. Her smile was thin as she stepped back through the door and pulled it closed behind her.

I didn’t care about the guard; the mere thought of stepping outside filled me with hope.

I dressed quickly and slipped into a pair of black velvet ballet flats.

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