Darius lowered his voice to a whispered hiss. “Should that curse truly have been placed upon you, an innocent child? Born in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or should it have been her? Do you wish it had beenher?”
“Yes!”
Silence echoed in the wake of that word.
She’d meant to staystop.
Meant to refuse.
Meant to say anything but that horrible, condemning word.
Her body shuddered with a sob. Something wet splashed on her collarbone, soaking the neck of her robe. Only then did she realize tears were streaming from her cheeks.
Her chest squeezed…
Then released.
The sob turned into a breath of relief.
And the darkness inside her left its cage.
47
Awitch’s challenge was a beautiful and treacherous thing. Beautiful in how much it could grow one’s magic. Treacherous in how the means of one’s challenge only seemed obvious in hindsight. If Cora had acknowledged the darkness in her heart for what it was the first time it had begged her to look at it, she could have grown her magic days ago.
But that was the nature of challenges.
The way of the witch.
It wasn’t meant to be easy.
Now that she’d broken that dam inside her, there was no stifling the darkness. She whispered the lullaby of truth it had wanted to hear all along. “It should have been her.”
Anger rose inside her, and she didn’t tamp it down. She let it strengthen her voice to a shout. Let her fury pour out of her and burst from her lungs, her heart, her lips. “It never should have been me! I hate that I suffered in her place!”
Darius nodded. “As you should.”
More and more of the darkness leaked from her chest, eased from her soul. Her mind spun with the euphoria of its release. How long had she been carrying it? How had it burrowed so deeply—yet so subtly—inside her that she hadn’t noticed its unbearable weight? Now that she’d given it freedom, she felt lighter than ever. Her mind too felt clearer. Sharper.
And her magic…
Mother Goddess, her magic felt stronger.
It surged through her body, filling every crevice the darkness had occupied. Her magic tingled the lines of herinsigmora, burning her palms, radiating through her blood.
The blockage was finally gone—the fatigue that had overtaken her when she’d worldwalked. The solution had been there all along, buried in the darkness she wouldn’t confront.
But she confronted it now, watching it, acknowledging it, even as it broke her heart again and again, even as it healed each jagged cut it made.
What a cruel and lovely thing it was.
“I knew you were like me,” Darius said, voice quavering with fervor once more. “I knew we were of the same mind. You’ve felt what it’s like when someone undervalues you. Or misplaces your value. You feel the same rage that I do. The same sense of justice.”
Gods, she wanted to laugh.
She and Darius weren’t the same.
He was a fool to think bringing her darkness to light meant she agreed with him.
