Page 59 of The Night Runs Red

“Do not touch her,” my uncle snarled, but his protests fell on unsympathetic ears.

I struggled against Rion’s hold, clawing at his skin until I felt wetness underneath my nails. “Let me go,” I said through gritted teeth. All the color leached away from his eyes, their manic silver glow nearly blinding as he stared me down. His hold on me grew unbearably tight, my panic apparent as tears began to fall. “Dammit, let me go.” My quivering voice was barely audible as I started beating on his chest.

“You are hurting her!” my uncle shouted, leaping for me. Renwick surged forward, catching him by the throat and slamming him against the wall. My view was obstructed, but I heard the swift motion of a blade cutting through flesh.

No, no, no! The chant echoed in my mind, screaming at me to go to my uncle and ensure his safety. Still, I couldn’t do anything but stare into my husband’s terrified gaze. It wasn’t until I heard Leonora’s shriek of anger that I allowed a modicum of relief to reach my panic-stricken heart.

Rion loosened his grip momentarily, but it was enough to allow me to watch Renwick fall to his knees, grasping at his neck. My uncle stood over his flailing body, glancing between Renwick and the dagger in his hands. Smoke rose from the blade, the stench of burning flesh filling the air.

In anger, Leonora flew toward Rion and me, breaking his hold. I pulled away, gasping for air as she turned on me with a vicious glint in her darkening eyes. “What magic is this?” she seethed, turning back to watch Renwick grow deathly still, his pallor grey and mottled. Her gaze dipped to the empty sheath attached to my thigh. “Who gave you that blade?”

I opened my mouth, unable to admit it was her own daughter who’d given me the knife. There’d been no distinction, no warning or words spoken which would have clued me in to the power it possessed.

As she lunged toward me, Rion stepped in her path and obscured me from her view. “Do not fucking touch her.” His voice boomed, rattling the glass of the windows. Small cracks began forming, reaching for one another in desperation which mirrored my own. “She is mine.”

Castor met my gaze over Rion’s shoulder, time slowing to an unbearable crawl. He saw my resolve, realization turning to horror as I stepped back until I felt the paned glass of the window. Rion and Leonora were locked in a stalemate, vibrating with the force of their anger as the other stood in the way of what they wanted.

“I am no one’s,” I said, forcing my voice to remain even as all eyes turned toward me. Rion’s glowing gaze simmered with rage, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Calia,” my uncle warned, taking a step toward me, but I shook my head for him to stay.

I could give him a distraction, time to escape, and tell the council what Leonora’s plans were. But there was only one way for me to do so. For him, for my family, and for the future of our world, I had to be strong.

I wanted to heed the call of the moon just as much as they wanted to feel the warmth of the sun. Still, something about Leonora and Renwick’s simple explanation didn’t make sense. Why had they searched for so long yet still been unable to free themselves?

Breathe, Calia. Breathe.

“What are you doing, girl?” Leonora growled.

I looked at Rion, forcing a smile that cleaved my soul. “It was always going to end like this. One way or another.” Rion stepped forward as I pushed open the window and felt the chill of the evening air on my skin. It wouldn’t take long to feel the sting of the moon’s violent crimson light.

He shook his head, those silver eyes clearing briefly before they widened in terror. “Calia… Love…” he rasped, but it was too late. My decision had already been made.

This was my reality. I was a sacrificial offering in every sense of the word. My life had been destined to be intertwined with his from the moment I was born. I’d never had a chance to come into my own, but my choices now would change that. For once, the power would lie in my hands. No matter how it ended, I would be responsible for forging my path.

I took a deep breath, summoning my strength as all three watched with apprehension. Rion and Leonora could make it to me in a second, stopping me if they desired. Rion lifted his foot, preparing to move as he understood my plan.

With one last look, I reached back, my palm colliding with the cracked glass of the windowpane, unfeeling even as the shards tore into my flesh. With one last look, I stepped out into the vermillion dark. The distant echo of screams reached me, tears falling down my cheeks as the faded glow of the blood moon shined down on my descent.

I stared out at the horizon, searching for a thready pulse in a symphony of solid beats as the bleary darkness of another night faded into the muted glow of a pointless day. The events of last night still lingered in the air, a phantom guilt I thought I’d shed when Calia had arrived. Lifting the bottle of liquor to my lips, the sharp tang of whiskey burned as it slid down my throat.

I welcomed the pain. I imagined each pull was a mouthful of jagged glass, intended to rip muscle and flesh until I drowned in my own blood. Even that would have been less painful than the truth. Oh, the irony—given that the truth had played a part in her demise.

I closed my eyes against the onslaught of images unrelentlessly flitting from one to the other without reprieve. From the moment I saw her, intrinsically knowing she was mine in every sense of the word, to our panic-addled end which had assured my ruination.

I don’t trust you.

Stay away.

Don’t come closer.

I am no one’s.

I had not lied when I said I could pick out her thoughts in a room of thousands. It was why I knew she was crouching outside the door of my office last night, before it all went to shit. Somehow, I assumed letting her see my warring indecision might have softened the blow of my omissions.

The admission of my feelings came too late—something a better man would have known. But I was not a better man; I was the devil who haunted her dreams, turning them into nightmares.

Had she given in to my mother’s demands, Calia would have died by her hand. My mother was never going to let her live. She had dedicated her life to the curse, and she would do whatever it took to ensure Calia was the final obstacle in her way. I had heard them, Leonora’s plans to rip into Calia’s throat, Renwick’s plot to hold me in compulsion as my mother bled her into my open mouth. Calia hadn’t seen the smirk that crossed my mother’s face as I shouted for her to stop.

---