Page 56 of Antiletum
Mourning morphs into something deeper, grieving for the family life that I was denied. Not only did my parents refuse to love me the way they should have, but they kept me hidden away from anyone else who would.
Shivers quake through my waterlogged body, laying on the ground and being pelted by the rain like the miserable creature I am. Nothing but an object to use.
Freedom.
I don’t understand the concept of the word. Never knew it. All I’ve known is solitude because of the magic I was born with, one I had no choice or control over. A magic that has me the target of a dangerous man because we are the same. And he needed me to boost himself.
Moonlight glints off of silver on my hand, the sight calming me back into some version of rational thought and focus: my wedding ring. The thing binding my body and soul to Val for all remaining days of this world.
Would resurrecting theVulpesandPantheraHeartstones truly break the magical bond of ourvinculumbands? Cleave that facet of our connection apart? Even if I couldn’t remove the ring, or put too much physical distance between us for longer than a few weeks, at least I wouldn’t be dependent on him to practice magic. I could fall back into the confines of solitary comfort I was conditioned to seek.
Would resurrecting all three Heartstones succeed in raising thedeosthemselves?If I played a part in such an act, would they fully free me from my paired marriage? Set my soul loose from Val’s, break the pairing bond solidified throughvinculum?
The dream of a life where I could be free tochoosemy own partner dances through my mind—how different things could have been—my dress soaked and clinging to my small, shuddering body.
I’d do anything to have had that world already. For it to have existed ten years ago, before my heartache began, allowing me a true chance at happiness.
In this short breath, stretched across my sister’s grave in the rain, my want to be on the side ofSuredeisforges fully. It’s now unbreakable, the reasons all my own and completely different from the tentative want I found with Blair and Selise to aide in resurrectingdeos. Far past seeking freedom for the masses, but seeking it for myself.
Harsh breaths pull through my lungs, my tears stuttering in my eyes. Sorrow running through every vein compresses into a hard and heavy lump in my chest: determination. I refuse to be the naive girl lorded by grief and so easily influenced by others. Not anymore.
Motivations going forward will be wholly my own.
“I’ve been looking for you,” a rumbly voice calls at my back. Soft. Somewhat relieved.
Satisfaction pulls at my lips.
A black parasol trimmed with silver tassels spins leisurely between my fingers, a perfect pinwheel over my shoulder. I don’t turn to address my predictable husband. Just as he’s been searching for me, I’ve been waiting for him.
“I told your steward to inform you that I was going out. If you asked,” I reply airily.
That added little extra was to give me time to complete the two particular tasks I had in mind before my husband inevitably got impatient and came to find me: visiting a solicitor’s office where I learned of the sale of my parents’ estate shortly before they died, followed by a smallspirlinaryin a quiet corner of the city.
Val’s strides lengthen to catch up with mine, side-stepping my guards.
Faced forward, refusing to look at him—not yet—I add, “If he failed at his task, perhaps you should fire him.”
Val swivels into my path, forcing me to stop walking. Handsome in his casual silk top hat, immaculately tailored black pants and black shirt, complete with a severe barn owl. It’s a miracle he isn’t sweatingto death. “All I was told is that you were ‘going out’ when I asked him to retrieve you when you didn’t show up for our breakfast.”
A brow arches up my forehead. I gesture wide—indicating that I am, just as I said,out. My hand traces towards the towering trees lining the sidewalk, the old stone buildings with their rose windows and arched doors, a spanning stone bridge blooming with wisteria over the street. The rush of the river cutting through the city is apparent over the horses clopping about pulling carriages and carts.
Stifled, my laugh weighs my lungs. For all his quiet brooding, Val is surprisingly easy to read. Just as I thought, he still expected me to join him this morning.
“I was worried about you,” Val says softly, leaning in closer to me so his words won’t carry. Slowly, he reaches out for me, gently encircling my wrist when I allow his touch. A breathless sigh flows from us both.
Val clears his throat, pulling me out of the way and under the shade of a live oak, stringy moss stroking the top of my parasol. “I hoped we might talk more this morning. That I might be able to better explain.” Faceted black bores into me with intensity. “And that I might be able to apologize. Begin trying to make it up to you.”
I want to laugh at the notion. Ask him here and now how he intends to rectify his actions in murdering my sister.
“I’m fine.” The lie is seamless. Nearly sounds believable, despite the thickening of my throat.Numbwould be a better word to describe me right now. But my blanket of empty self-preservation is rapidly burning away in my husband’s presence.
Not ideal.
Val’s focus flays me alive, roving over every inch of my face, skeptical. “I’m here for you, Delaney.”
He reaches up a large hand, veins prominent in the summer heat. Knuckles brush over my cheek, then my three earrings when I don’tshy away. “Beautiful,” he whispers so softly I don’t think he meant to say it aloud. Some of his tension eases noticeably, my silly head turning into his hand against my will. The desire to stroke my fingers over the black studs in Val’s ear overtakes me.
Deos. What is wrong with me?
