Page 117 of Terror Tuesday
I’ve never felt more comforted. Even if he’s the blade at my throat, the darkness that has become my light, I think I could love him, too.
He must blow out the candles, because I only know that I’ve fallen asleep in his arms. For once, I don’t feel hunted. For once, Iamsafe.
I waketo the faint glow of dawn seeping through the broken windows. My body aches in the sweetest way, the memory of his touch lingering like a brand on my skin. The bed squeaks as I roll over and look around for Valen, but he’s not here.
On the dining table near the foot of the bed, a red envelope perches against a wineglass. Valen’s sharp, deliberate hand has scrawled my name across the front. Wrapping the sheet around me, I snag the paper and open it. In addition to the card, a note with a poem falls out.
I’ve watched you slice through flame and night,
A whispered vow kept out of sight.
For every sin I carved alone,
Your name lit fire inside my bones.
So if I burn or if I break?—
It’s still your hand I choose to take.
When I slide the heavy paper out of the sleeve, my heart stutters…
Inside is an invitation—my name is inscribed alongside his.
Olivia Marie Cardell has been appointed to
Valen Elliot Von Dovish
Your Culling Ceremony Shall Take Place in
The Cathedral of Seven Moons
Tears blur my vision, the words swimming. How? Who did this? Did he?
It’s not anofficialletter. There’s no seal or signature, but I wouldn’t expect there to be, given that the president has ordered me to kill him. And him to kill my father. But…Valen must’ve written it. Has my father agreed to this?
A noise downstairs makes me freeze, the paper trembling in my hands. I drop the sheet and throw on his discarded black T-shirt, then scurry toward the hall, my bare feet silent on the cold stone floor.
In the old kitchens, Valen’s sculpted back is to me in front of an ancient wood stove. No mask, no games. Just him, with aDeltabranding on his shoulder, sandy hair tousled, shirtless, and showcasing some impressive muscles as he stirs something in a pot. The scent of coffee and wood smoke mixes with the mist of the morning air, grounding me.
He turns at my footsteps, a smile softening the lines of his face. Elliot’s cute dimples deepen as he scans my frame. “Morning, my Monarch. I love that shirt on you.” Not-so-subtly, he reaches down to adjust himself in his sweatpants.
I hold up the invitation, my voice shaking. “What does this mean?”
He doesn’t look away, doesn’t flinch. “It means I’ve figured out how to end it. How to end everything.”
I swallow, my mouth dry. “How?”
Valen sets the spoon down, wiping his hands on a rag. With sure steps, he walks toward me, gathering my waist in his arms. “Your father and I made an arrangement. One thatwillmake you mine. Officially…”
My breath catches as my heart trips over itself. “Appointed?” I whisper.
“And, well,married.”
He nods, pulling something from his pocket—a small silver pin, theDeltacrest glints in the morning light. “It’s a silly thing. A symbol, nothing more,” he says, but his voice is tender as he kneels in front of me, pinning it to the fabric near my breast.
The tears rush to me before I can stop them, hot and sudden. Whenever I’d imagine who I would be appointed to, he was none of those visions. But now…
He’s everything I could ever want.
