Page 38 of Nearly Dead

“I have heard enough.I will decide where she is held.The hybrid will be protected,” Zephronis states.Decimus and Vasilisa look as if they want to protest but no one dares contradict him.“Now, step out of the circle, Tamara Devine.”

As I step across the boundary, I feel the suppression snap back into place, not as strong as the potion, but enough to dull the warring natures inside me.Astrid is immediately at my side, her hand on my arm in a silent show of support.

“This is temporary,” she murmurs.“We will find a way through this.”

I wish I shared her confidence.As council guards appear to escort me away, I catch Sully’s eye.His gaze makes me uneasy.

“Eleven days,” he mouths, so others don’t hear.

His meaning is clear.When the full moon rises, I’m either pack or problem.And Sully doesn’t seem like the type to leave problems unsolved for long.

The last thing I see before they lead me from the chamber is Costin and Elizabeth, locked in what appears to be a tense conversation.His face is cold with fury and hers alights with satisfaction.

I wonder if she still thinks I’ll take her up on her offer to help.That smile on her face says she already believes she’s won.

Whatever game is being played, I’m certain of one thing.I’m not just a player.

I’m a prize.

ChapterNine

I never expected I’d be brought back to the Devine Country Estate, but here I am watching the sprawling stone walls covered in ivy through the car window.Night has fallen over the manicured gardens now dormant in winter’s tight grip.It snowed at some point when I was underground.It makes everything white and peaceful, very unlike my turbulent soul.Behind us, I hear the familiar groan of the heavy wrought-iron gates closing.They have kept the mundane world at bay for generations.I’ve taken this drive so many times I can’t remember each trip.

I do, however, remember feeling like a prisoner returning to my cell.

Sorry, “protected wing” of the house.

I can’t complain, though.Things could have ended up much worse.This is not the prison I thought Zephronis would choose for me.Honestly, I’m still confused by how this happened.When my father suggested it, they’d said no.

I’m sure I have a sarcastic thought about misogyny or patriarchy or something profound, but I’m woozy from Astrid’s constant injections.They’re keeping me calm for the trip.Otherwise, I might have tried jumping out the car window to run in the moonlight.I don’t protest as I feel another jab in my thigh.

Three days have passed since the council meeting.Three days of being shuttled from Costin’s underground fortress to the council’s holding cell to this gilded cage under Zephronis’ watchful eye.The old wizard simply appeared in the cell, took one look at the arguing factions trying to get in to see me, and declared, “She goes to the Devine Estate.I will oversee her myself.”

No one dared object, not Sully with his pack ambitions, not Vasilisa with her clinical curiosity, not even Elizabeth with her venomous schemes.Zephronis is too ancient and powerful to be challenged directly.Even now, I can feel his magic saturating the estate, reinforcing the spells that have protected it for centuries.Whatever his reasons for choosing this place, they’re his own.The only explanation he offered was, “Their arguing does my head in.”

The car slows.I can’t see the driver through the dark window separating us.My father and Mortimer stayed behind.They barely spoke to me when they came to visit me in my cell.My father looked ashamed, like he was embarrassed I’d done this to him.

My head wobbles as I turn to look at Astrid.“Costin?”

“You don’t remember?He’ll be here.He’s overseeing your blood supply,” Astrid answers.

I nod.My head bounces against the seat as I stare at her beautiful face.“You’re so pretty.”

Astrid smirks.“I see the potion is working.”

“You’re better than him,” I persist, knowing I should shut up but not caring.I feel the need to say it, and the words tumble out.“You shouldn’t put up with his infidelities.”

“He’s my husband,” Astrid says.“Your father.Choices were made that can’t be undone.”

“It’s not the 1500s.You can divorce him.Take half of everything.He’d be too scared to deny you.”

“You know better.This is the supernatural world.It is very much still the 1500s.”Astrid pats my cheek.“Don’t dwell on things that cannot be changed.Life has put enough before us.”

“He hates me now.I see it on his face,” I mutter.

“No, he hates anything that ruins his plans,” she corrects.It’s a small difference, and it doesn’t make me feel better.

“You should at least take a lover.”I chuckle and turn back to the window as we stop in the front drive.“Or twelve.No one would blame you.”

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