Swinging left at the fountain, the hall becomes shorter, wider. And there are far fewer shiny brass plates, all of which lie near the end. Sunlight pours into the hall from the large west-facing, round, frosted glass window.
The full moon.
The opposite hall leading east, where the High Priestesses lie, features an identical window of darkened glass. I won’t be visiting that area of the mausoleum again any time soon.
Artemise lies there.
May she rot.
Eve didn’t deserve to be cast from service. Not over something that wasn’t her fault. Not when she was mourning Cora.
Lowering myself to the floor, to my knees, I lift the drooped and withered flowers from the only vase present and set them aside. A few dried petals cascade to the floor, tapping against the marble as they land.
My brows furrow.
The flowers hid a small wooden box resting beside the vase.
I left the flowers months ago.
I did not leave the box.
Curiosity once again gets the better of me and, placing the bouquet of wildflowers in my lap, I take the box. It’s a dainty thing, small enough to fit in the center of my palm.
Lightweight.. no imbued magic.
Constructed from a bright blond wood and polished to feel like glass. It’s the kind of simplicity Cora would have appreciated. It lacks a clasp, or visible hinges. But there is a vertical seam through its center. Prying it open as I would a book, a silver band featuring a heart-shaped ruby rises on a bed of white velvet.
Eve.
Eve must have left this—thisgift of silver.
My sight blurs and silent tears slide down my cheeks as my composure and cursed soft heart disintegrate. I nearly drop it, my hands trembling as I struggle to remember how to breathe.
Blinking to clear my vision, a small engraving on the interior of the band catches my eye. With narrowing eyes, I read.
With my whole heart, Cor.
Enduring another blade through my heart would hurt less.
Seeing this?
Seeing the future Cora and Eve could have had—wouldhave had—leaves me a quivering, sobbing mess.
It’s a future robbed.
One they’ll never have.
Because I gave Cora that godsdamned ribbon.
If I had known…
I snap the box shut and return it to its place, unable to stare at the deadly consequences of my choices any longer. There’s nothing I can ever do or say to make this right for CoraorEve.
But I can spend eternity trying.
Lifting my gaze to Cora’s name plate, I wipe at my face with the heel of my palm and heave a shuddering sigh.
Cora A. Winters
