Sage snuffled along the wall until he found a spot that arrested his attention. The quick series of barks echoed down the passageway. I crouched down to investigate with my wraith-wolf hovering close by.
My flashlight skittered over the rock. At first, I saw nothing…
Until I spotted a small emblem.
It could easily be mistaken for scratches, but I recognized the markings because it was the same language inked on Graysen’s body—Ukkenskrit.
I pushed on the emblem, and the sound of shifting stone scraped at my ears as it slid inward. A loudclickof the trigger before it sprang back into place.
My eyes sliced to Sage standing beside me, his gaze pinned on the tiny area where my finger rested on the markings of Ukkenskrit. How did he know? Was itlike singing to like, his highly attuned senses, pulling him to the right spot, or had someone shown him?
The fleeting thought disappeared as fast as it had come when the secret door swung open to reveal Tabitha’s little reading nook with her romance books lining the walls.
The Keep was quiet as we moved through its hallways, the furniture and antiques restored to order after the brunnie’s rampage. Brisk cold air ruffled my hair, its windy fingers slipping around my figure to tease my filthy dress as I left the Keep to wander across the cobblestones with Sage at my heels. Night had fallen, and starlight pricked the dark sky.
A sharp tug of awareness lifted my gaze to the balcony that wrapped around the top of the tower. I couldn’t make out anything in the moonlight and shadows, but a part of me wondered if Graysen was up there, looking down.
I didn’t care.
I barely cared about anything.
The dark tide of hopelessness washed through me once more, heavy and merciless.
My weary footsteps were ponderous as I hauled myself up the tower’s staircase. It felt like walking to my doom. Everything had gone wrong. Every avenue I’d hunted down was shut to me. I wasn’t going to be able to save myself.
I swiped at the salty residue of tears trailing down my cheeks. Raw. Every inch of me felt raw and flayed. I’d broken so severely there was nothing left to put back together. I was just empty flesh stitched to bone and sinew.
The Crowthers had won.
They were going to sell me at the Witches Ball, and I was powerless to stop them.
I stepped onto the stone landing outside our quarters, my body swaying with fatigue and misery. Cold metal met my palm as I wrapped my fingers around the handle, levered, and pushed the door open, the weight of it as stout as a concrete seawall.
But instead of entering, I lingered at the threshold, feeling on the verge of breaking and weeping all over again. Wyrmfire burning in the sconces behind me seeped light between my feet, staining the carpet indigo, as dark and blue as my heart.
46
Nelle
Sage left my side, heading for the balcony. The tower was quiet but for the distant sound of my wraith-wolf lapping at his water bowl. Finally, I dragged myself inside, moving past the partition of storage cupboards. Moonlight dappled the furniture and what little remained of Graysen’s clothes hanging on the makeshift wardrobe.
A whitish glow came from a lamp set beside the bed, more aesthetic than of any practical use. Graysen sat on the edge of the mattress, head bowed, shoulders tense, holding an unopened book. He wasn’t reading, hadn’t been, I realized. A useless distraction that hadn’t fulfilled its promise. Smoke curled from a blunt burning low in the ashtray, untouched. The whiskey on the bedside table shimmered, full and forgotten.
Startled, Graysen glanced up as I walked closer. Then he shot to his feet, scanning my wretched expression. I knew that he’d feel what was going on inside me. How I’d fractured and broken. The heaviness weighing on my soul.
We stared at one another across the space that divided us.
He seemed almost sweet with his wide-eyed awkwardness, his hands anxiously flexing the novel, as if he was unsure of what to do or say, how he should act around me.
What was I going to do?
Was there anything else I could do to save myself?
Was there any point?
My gaze dipped to his fingers kneading the paperback, curling the papered edge of it back and forth.
The answer came as swiftly as a bolt of lightning.
