The man had a hand on her waist, where I used to hold her.
My muscles ached in my arms and legs from self-restraint.
If not, I’d leap across the room and decapitate him.
Then dismember his body.
But I held myself back, wondering why she couldn’t feel me standing here.
People walked past me, shoulders bumping into mine and trying to make me stumble, but I stood solid with my muscles tensing and my heart slowly crushing.
I’m right here, I wanted to shout at her.Turn your head and look at me.
She didn’t, and the music died when the lights came on.
I felt out in the open and exposed to prying eyes.
Circe’s back turned to me, so I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to slip away, but I couldn’t unbolt my feet.
A woman’s voice swallowed up all the chatter in the room. I heard it coming from different angles, but when I followed the eyes of the people around me, I realized it was coming from a tall, thin woman in a black lace dress on the opposite side of the room.
“Cyrus, Adora, please,” she insisted, motioning for these people to step forward.
Hand in hand, Circe and the man walked to the edge of the ballroom.
Confusion took hold of me.
“Thank you all of Weeping Hollow for coming into my home this Founder’s Day, despite the terrors we face during these horrific hours,” this woman began to say, standing beside Circe and the man. “In times like these, we hold on to hope and look forward to a celebration that will take us into the new year—because there will come a new year in Weeping Hollow. So, without further ado, it’s my pleasure to announce the engagement of my son, Cyrus Olen Cantini, and Adora Oria Sullivan, daughter of Ronan and Marcelline Sullivan. The first engagement from a founding family of Sacred Sea of this generation, with many more to follow. Let’s raise our glass to Cyrus and Adora!”
The dark-haired man called Cyrus grabbed Circe by the waist.
It was all happening entirely too fast. I knew what was coming, andwait!my mind shouted, but there was nothing I could do to stop them. Because she couldn’t see me standing here.
And he kissed her.
I closed my eyes on impact, unable to watch.
I tried to scrape a breath from my lungs, but it clogged my chest. My heart was ramming against my ribcage so hard I thought it may break through and abandon me.
In a room full of people, no one noticed how despair rooted inside me, growing an angry trunk and sad branches, twisting its confused boughs around my spine, crushing my bones. The bloody and raw organ inside, which had been pumping with saccharine for weeks, stalled.
I opened my eyes and slewed my gaze around the room at all the faces who had witnessed their courting while she was supposedly making love to me.
But a pair of silver, supernatural eyes stared back, making me pause.
They were attached to a man holding a girl with white hair close to his side. All I could see of her was her profile, but something about her was familiar. Perhaps it was her white hair and that it reminded me of mine.
The man straightened his spine and narrowed his eyes at me. As though he knew I didn’t fit in this room with these people. And he especially didn’t like how I gazed at the lady under his arm.
I glanced back at Circe as she pulled away from the kiss.
She raised her chin and looked about the room.
And her gaze slammed into mine.
Famous poets and writers have written about this moment of two people locking eyes from across the room. For some, it was a slow song of nostalgic poetry—an awakening from a long slumber. For me, it was an attack of evocative prose.
CHAPTER 34
