Page 98 of Break Her Heart
There was a long pause before she answered. “Mama said we didn’t learn to speak until we were about five, but it didn’t bother our parents. They believed we were communicating with each other some other way because to us, we were the only thing that mattered.”
I turned my head slightly to look at her, but she wasn’t looking at me. Her gaze was fixed somewhere beyond the ceiling.
“Mama said that once, I was in the kitchen helping her cook dinner when I suddenly stopped, ran outside with a knife, and chased off this older boy who had pushed Adar down. She had no idea how I knew something had happened. Thought it was twin intuition.” Her lips curled faintly. “It wasn’t until breakfast a few months later that she came to the conclusion that we were speaking through our minds. We were arguing over something that morning—huffing, glaring across the table—until I finally threw an apple at his face. She said she just… knew.”
I didn’t speak, letting her keep going.
“I don’t remember any of that. I don’t remember being able to talk to him like that, but… I don’t know. It was always nice hearing her tell the story. Like there was something special about us.”
“Witches are odd things.”
She shot me a glare, and I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my mouth.
“I’m just saying,” I said, nudging her gently, “you two are already so unique that I wouldn’t be surprised if there really was something… deeper. Something that tethered you together.”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I wouldn’t even know how to do that if I tried. But if I could do it now, I would have aggravated him until he got over what I did.”
“How was he today?”
She didn’t know it, but I had followed her to the bakery earlier, keeping my distance as she wove through the bustle of Market. Last week, she’d allowed me to walk her to breakfast, but the number of people in town for Market had pulled several into my path, stopping me to talk. I’d felt her irritation simmer with each interruption until she finally told me I couldn’t walk beside her anymore. So I trailed behind at a careful distance, hood drawn low, my cloak swallowing me into the crowd.
The thought of being away from her, even for a few hours, made my chest ache and my skin feel restless, like some part of me was being tugged away.
“Oh, he was fine. He tried to be short with me again but it didn’t take long for me to make him laugh.”
“Well, I must have rubbed off on you.”
She raised her head to look at me. “Excuse me?”
“You weren’t really good with people when we met whereasIcan charm anyone.”
She cut her eyes at me. “You didn’t charm me! You were just so aggravating that I finally gave up and took all of my frustrations out on you.”
“Sexually?”
She shoved against my chest, but I caught her wrists and tugged her toward me, the tension between us sharp and heated. I kissed her before she could fire off another retort.
“As much as I’d love to see where this argument goes,” I murmured against her mouth, “it’s late, and we’ve got another thrilling day in the archives tomorrow.”
She groaned. “Lucky me.”
* * *
“We have looked through every tome here and found nothing that seems remotely close to what we are looking for.” The words felt bitter on my tongue. I stood by the arched window, the last tome in my hand trembling with restraint. My grip tightened until the spine cracked. Then I let it fly across the room. It hit the far wall with a dull thud, pages scattering across the stone floor.
I’d been hiding it—my frustration, my impatience. Trying to stay composed, to stay strategic. But it was getting harder each day. We were running in circles, chasing dead ends in dusty pages, and I was sick of it. We needed to try something different. Something I’d already mentioned to Benedict countless times.
“We need answers.”
Benedict didn’t even flinch. He was too used to my temper by now. “No,” he said flatly, cutting me off like he always did when the idea came up. “Doing that is too risky.”
“Doing what?” Winnie asked. She was perched on the edge of the long table. She had been so calm today, but her fingers twitching told me she was just as worried as I was.
Benedict’s hesitation was brief, but telling. He didn’t like this idea. He worried word of what we were doing would get out. But we were out of options now.
“He wants to question someone who knows exactly what happens,” he muttered.
“Halston,” I cut in.
