Page 44 of Cursed

Too long?

How could he sit there and pretend that this was a pleasant evening after what he had done to my mother—

The whispers in my mind hissed their approval, and I sat up a little straighter, worried that he could hear them, too.

“Yes, it’s... lovely,” I replied, forcing the words past the constriction in my throat. I didn’t dare let my gaze linger on him too long, instead focusing on the ornate table set before us, laden with dishes that looked exquisite but felt tainted by the darkness surrounding them.

“Tell me,” he leaned forward slightly, the glint in his pale eyes igniting a spark of dread within me, “did you manage to make any progress with the grimoire?”

A chill ran down my spine at the mention of it.

There was a ripple of irritation in my mind, and the wound on the side of my hand throbbed.

“Um, yes,” I stammered. My voice wavered as panic surged through me. How much could I tell him? How muchshouldI tell him? The truth clawed at my insides, desperate to break free. How could I tell him I was terrified of what lay within those cursed pages? “I’ve been... studying the symbols.”

“Studying.”

I shifted in my seat. I couldn’t shake the worry that he was dissecting my words in an attempt to peel away the layers of my deception.

“An interesting choice,” he continued. “What have you discovered?”

“Not much,” I blurted out. My heart pounded so hard against my ribs that I feared he could hear it. I forced myself to maintain eye contact, even as the darkness behind his pale gaze threatened to swallow me whole. “The spells are… complicated. They’re not like anything I’ve ever studied before.”

He let out a snort of laughter. “How could they be?” His smile was sharp, edged with amusement that sent a shiver racing up my spine. I could feel the air shift between us. “The Sages at Messana Academy wouldn’t dare face such magic.”

I picked up my wineglass and held it to my lips to hide my nervousness. I sipped, and then gulped, and swallowed hard as a lump formed in my throat. I tried not to cough as I set the glass down again. I clenched my fists beneath the table, desperately searching for a way to redirect the conversation. “It’s very complex. I—I need more time to fully understand it,” I managed.

The lie was heavy, like a noose around my neck.

“Time.” Lucian’s voice was deceptively calm. “You have all the time you need, my dear... Unless you squander it.”

“Of course,” I said through another forced smile. “I wouldn’t dream of rushing something so important.”

“Good.” He leaned back in his chair, and I glimpsed satisfaction dancing at the corners of his mouth, and I didn’t need to wonder if he relished the control he wielded over me.

I focused on the lavish plate before me. Each carefully arranged morsel had been expertly prepared, and my stomach knotted. I was hungry—famished—but if I ate too quickly…

Lucian’s gaze narrowed, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He leaned forward, his long fingers steepled under his chin, the flickering candlelight casting ominous shadows across his face. “What do you think of the grimoire, Avril? Do you believe you are equal to the challenge of it? You are unprepared— Messana Academy is not the institution it once was.”

His words were sharp and accusatory, and the weight of his scrutiny made my stomach churn. I could feel my facade beginning to crack as my composure began to slip away. “I— I don’t know. But I— I’m willing to try.” Each word felt more brittle than the last, a desperate attempt to convince both him and myself.

“Are you?” he murmured, his tone deceptively soft. “Because I sense hesitation in your voice. A reluctance to embrace the darkness that calls to you.”

The way he looked at me—so piercing, so knowing—sent goosebumps skittering across my skin.What did he know? What did he suspect?My thoughts spiraled and tumbled down dark alleys of paranoia while the whispers gained strength.

“I want to learn. I will learn,” I replied, though the words were bitter on my tongue.

He regarded me thoughtfully. “We shall see.” He held his wineglass in long, graceful fingers and the dark liquid swirled hypnotically inside. “It shouldn’t be necessary, but I feel I must remind you that our little arrangement is not without its... obligations.”

I swallowed hard as his words coiled around me like a snake. “Obligations?” I echoed, forcing the syllables past my dry throat.

“Yes,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “You see, the Romano name carries weight—dark weight. You’ve only experienced a hint of the power we wield, and it would be... regrettable for you to forget your place in all of this.” Each word fell from his lips like shards of glass that pierced through the thin veneer of control I fought so desperately to maintain.

“Of course, Lucian,” I managed.

That was what he wanted—submission.

Obedience.

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