Through the window, the sky is brightening from black to deep purple. Dawn is coming. We broke the spell just in time.
So why does the thought of leaving this room make my chest ache worse than the binding spell ever did?
31
Julia
IfindRebeccastandingonElizabeth’s terrace as dawn breaks, painting the frost-covered gardens in gold and pink. She’s wrapped in a maroon shawl, cradling a steaming cup of tea between pale hands, looking every one of her hundred and forty years.
She doesn’t turn when I step outside, though I know she senses me. The morning air bites at my skin, which is still sensitive from Hannah’s touch. I can still feel the ghost of her fingers in my hair and her breath on my neck.
We parted ways in the parlor, each of us needing to resolve our unfinished business: me with Rebecca, her with Riley.
So, here I am, knowing what needs to be said but unsure how to phrase it.
“The binding broke,” Rebecca says to the sunrise. Not a question.
“It did.”
“And yet you’re still here instead of disappearing into the wilderness.” She sips her tea. “Is the girl still alive?”
I bristle at the implication, but I deserve it. “Yes.”
“Surprising.” Her tone might be as close to approval as I’ll ever get. “I expected to find her corpse by morning.”
“As did I,” I admit.
I move to stand beside her at the stone railing, leaving a careful distance between us. Below, Elizabeth’s gardens sprawl in geometric patterns, everything controlled and contained.
“I took your sister from you.” My words come out steady, though my throat tightens around them. “I cannot undo that.”
Rebecca looks at me sharply. I see Charlotte in the shape of her eyes and the curve of her mouth, and it’s a punch to the gut I was not prepared for.
I make myself hold her gaze. “I understand now what I stole from you. Her life, her future,yourfuture. And I—” I swallow, my voice wobbling. “I deeply regret it.”
Rebecca’s hand shakes, her knuckles whitening around her teacup. For a moment, I think she might throw the tea in my face. I wouldn’t blame her.
“Do you know what has tormented me the most? It wasn’t finding her body, cold and alone, or sorting through her belongings, or spending years learning dark magic while vengeance burned a hole in my gut.” Rebecca sets the teacup down hard enough that it cracks, tea spilling across the stone. “She died thinking you loved her as much as she loved you, and I’ve had to live knowing you didn’t.” Her voice breaks. “She had stars in her eyes whenever she talked about you, Julia. She was infatuated with your power. She thought the two of you were forever.”
The words pierce me like daggers. My throat is too tight to speak.
“She wrote poems about you,” Rebecca continues. “About the love you shared, and how lucky she was that you’d chosen her. The last one was two days before she died. She said she’d never been happier. Did you know that?”
Good Lord.I grip the railing to stay upright. I had no idea Charlotte romanticized our feeding sessions like that. The part of me that’s still twenty-three and arrogant wants to argue that she knew what she was gettinginto, and she offered herself willingly. But that’s a lie I’ve been telling myself since it happened, and I’m finished with it.
“I burned them all,” Rebecca whispers. “I couldn’t stand to read her joy when I knew what you’d done to her.”
Good. They should be burned. Those poems were written by a girl too enraptured to see she was being consumed.
I wipe my stinging eyes. God, I was so naive and reckless. I deserved every bit of vengeance Rebecca hurled at me.
“And in the wake of it all,” she snarls, “you ran.”
“I couldn’t face what I’d done,” I say, my voice broken. “I ran from you, from the truth of what I am, from anything and everything that would remind me of her.”
Rebecca scoffs.
“I did care for her,” I say, though the words feel inadequate. “In whatever way I was capable of then. It wasn’t enough, but it was real.”
