As the footsteps grow closer, Titus’s eyes widen with sheer panic. “Not now,” he growls at his hands, scolding them, like a father would punish a toddler.
Pressing my palms into my mattress, I push up with caution. Ugh. My spine aches in places I didn’t know could hurt.
I know who is coming. Unlike Titus, she would have slain me in my bed when she had the chance.
“You bitch!”
Chapter
Eleven
Selene
Sable storms into my chambers, her face a mask of fury I’ve known since childhood. Dark, precise, and unforgiving.
Her long black hair-identical to mine-is braided so tightly that it yanks her eyebrows into a scowl. Her dress whooshes like torrents of foreboding wind. I wouldn’t put it past her to wear a gown into battle. The number of jewels adorning her neck might confuse some into thinking she’s the queen. She loves that.
Sable is a star that outshines every dying one around her. Little does she know that the stars that shine the faintest often hold the greatest potential, for when they finally burn out, their death sparks a power beyond measure.
All my light dimmed the day Everett died. I’m clinging to life like a tiny star. Surely my end will unleash a beast into this world so great it will force Sable to her knees.
Sable lowers her chin as if she were leveling a blade.
That’s when I see it. Under all her finery is sweat stained with dirt.
Wow, Galen really did imprison her. She was so eager to seek her revenge that she’d forgone a bath.
I’m honored.
Sable’s lips curl, as does her hand holding the arrow. She has no bow; she doesn’t need one. Her words are a weapon more destructive.
Suddenly, the air in the room hisses, particles drift and tingle over my skin, causing the hair on my arms to rise.
Pop!
I recoil, my toes snagging on the sheets.
“Fuck! Shit!” Titus grunts. He steps towards Sable. That’s when I notice her hand, how slowly it moves, like a single droplet of water clinging to a leaf. It’s so close to falling off, moving, but it doesn’t. “She didn’t come in the bubble,” Titus exhales in relief.
He reaches up and holds his neck, his worry evident.
This feeling… I know exactly what it is. How many times had Everett trapped me in his cage of unmoving time?
But my brother is dead.
My wide eyes target Titus.
No! No. No?
“You… you… you!” No, it could not be! I shove away. My back slams against the headboard of my bed. “You!”
“Yes,” Titus says, as if reading my mind.
“How?” A vampire with fae magic? Impossible.
His hand drifts from his neck to his hair, fingers digging into the roots as he tries to remove the weeds from his mind. “I need you to tell me why Everett gave me his magic, because the few words he spoke to me make no sense.”
Words he spoke? What words?
