Page 65 of This Violent Light
“We’re as ready as we’re going to be,” she says. “Grace has regular access to her magic. She’s not strong, but she doesn’t need to be.”
I want to ask what Iwillneed to be. Despite the months I’ve been here, I still don’t know exactly how breaking a curse works. They need my blood. I need to have magic. But obviously they’ll need something more, right?
My heart thunders again, and I tap my foot in rhythm.
Though Sebastian’s face doesn’t change, he presses his hand to my knee. There’s nothing sexual or flirtatious about the movement. He only holds my leg still, like a weighted comfort.
“We’re ready,” Cora says again. She looks between us. “There’s a full moon next week. We’ll do it then.”
They go over more details, but it’s things that don’t really matter.
Where? The same ballroom where the Nectoa tried to kill me.
Who? Just us. Sebastian, the inner circle, me.
When? Right before midnight, when the moon is at its most powerful.
I’m fidgeting, spiraling, losing myself so completely I don’t realize Sebastian has moved his hand from my knee to my shoulder until he squeezes it. His hand lingers there, rubbing softly, as Cora finishes her spiel.
I’m going to vomit.
I’m going todie, and I feel it with such certainty I’m not sure how I haven’t felt like this every moment of every day. Maybe Cora has placed some sort of soothing spell over me. Or maybe I’ve been living in a state of complete denial.
Jesus fuck. I am going todie. There’s no way that hasn’t been the plan all along. And I’ve just been sitting here, waiting for them to be ready. For them to prime me for the slaughter.
What else could you have done? I ask myself silently.
Escape, is my stubborn response. I’m too overwhelmed to care I’m arguing with myself.I never even tried to escape.
There’s still time, I decide. It’s desperate, unrealistic. But if the full moon isn’t until next week, I have time to figure this out.
“Change the location to the auditorium,” Sebastian says.
I come out of my thoughts enough to register those words.
“The ballroom is better,” Cora says. “More windows. Better for the moon to?—”
“The auditorium,” he interrupts. “Or the courtyard, if we must. Not the ballroom.”
Cora and Beatrice shoot me identical, accusatory looks. I haven’t said a single word, and they’re still looking at me like this is my fault.
None of this is my fault!I want to scream.You are the monsters, not me!
I stay silent. I already know they won’t care.
“Fine,” Cora says eventually. She collects the dead and dried and decaying items from the table before nodding to Milas. “Carry the rest, would you?”
He obliges, and the others depart just as quickly. Then, it’s me and Sebastian, alone in the courtyard.
I can feel him staring.
“Thank you for moving it from the ballroom,” I say without turning my head. I’m staring at the center of the table, where moments ago, a werewolf ear sat bloodied. Milas had carved it off a woman’s head, and everyone had made jokes about it.
Where was the woman now? Still alive? Or did he kill her to get that ear?
“Grace,” Sebastian says. His voice is low, smooth and gentle, and I hate it. I want to scream and thrash and have a meltdown until he’s forced to drag me to my room, kicking.
I push from the bench and start for the door. He’s soon at my side, but not with the unnatural speed I’ve come to accept. I’m right, I decide. He’s human. It’s not just in his movements. It’s in the faint color beneath his cheeks, made brighter by the wind.
