Page 55 of Wicked Salvation
Each time, my pulse quickens just a little bit more. A cold, dark sensation snakes its way up my spine. How does Silas know that? I made sure he had walked back to his dorm—I watched him do so from my own window. I took the long way to the graveyard, purposely avoiding the Boys’ Dormitory.
Pressing my phone to my chest, I stare up at the ceiling.
It’s like he’severywhere.
The bruises on my body.
Now, my whereabouts.
What else will come next?
I take a shaky breath, biting my lip to stop the sadness bubbling in my chest. Silas notices everything when it comes to me, it seems. I deviated from my routine. From the way I’m supposed to act.
I’ll be his wife in six weeks.
Maybe then I’ll be able to get some reprieve.
My mother and father often spend weeks or months apart. My father loves the solace of the countryside, while my mother prefers her bustling high society life.
Perhaps our marriage will be like that.
But you’d need his permission to do that—because you belong to him.
And that’s the thought that has me texting him back.
I went to see Vivienne.
Three dots appear immediately.
He’s typing.
They vanish.
Then they return.
Silas:
Why didn’t you tell me? I could have come with you.
You wouldn’t have understood, I want to say.You still don’t understand why I’m still grieving her death. You would have stood at her grave like it was an inconvenience.
And I wouldn’t have been able to speak with Lucian. I wouldn’t have been able to touch him, to imagine it was just the two of us in that single moment—a peaceful moment.
If Silas was there, I wouldn’t have been able to pour out my heart to Vivienne, either. Even in death, she’s like a salve—she was so much more than gossip and scandal, and the convenient lie of suicide.
She was my best friend.
And I can’t believe it took losing her to realize that.
The day already feels like it weighs a thousand pounds, but I climb out of bed all the same. All my bruises hurt even worse now, and my headache doesn’t seem to want to go away. I catch a glimpse outside the window.
Pale fog curls around the edges of the courtyard, slowly melting in the sun as it rises. The stillness of it all makes everything feel suspended.
Weightless.
Like if I threw myself through the window, I’d float away.
My phone chimes again.
