The only sounds are the cracklings from the fireplace and my raspy breaths.
Slowly, I lift my hand to my cheekbone. The moment I touch it, the pain erupts like a burn.
I lift my dark gaze to Mother.
She’s never hit me before.
I find no remorse on her seething face.
Father tilts closer, leaning his weight onto one foot. “You are grounded until your departure for Bluestone. You are to cease speaking about these books and your disability. If I hear theworddeadbloodfrom you once more—you will graduate right into your grandmother’s care.”
Ethel.
No doubt about it.
I press my hand firmer against my cheek.
“Get out of my sight, girl. You are not joining us today.”
No one argues with him.
No one but me.
“But it’s New Year—”
“Go to your room!” Father shouts, and the fright of it staggers me back a step. “Now!”
I fling myself into a run—and my family watch me go.
6
Father is true to his word. He ices me out of New Year.
The entire day, I’m confined to my bedchamber.
I try the doorknob, because I want to go downstairs for breakfast, for the gifts from my family, but the door doesn’t budge.
It’s more than locked, it’s magicked shut.
Later, I wrangle the doorknob again.
This time, I know my family are gone from Elcott Abbey, and my mind is snagged on the piano—but I’m still locked in.
The day drags on.
Something about that wormy sensation in my gut, that anxiety stirring like a bubbling potion in a cauldron, slows down time. No matter what I do to speed it up, it just ticks on by.
I try to read. My eyes touch the words on the pages, but my mind doesn’t register them.
I try to bathe. I’m in the tub for about ten minutes before I give up on relaxation and clammer out.
I pack for the looming return to Bluestone, but my mind is too snagged on this morning and I can hardly remember what I packed and what I didn’t.
By the time the dreary sky is darkening with nightfall, and I’m staring out the windows lining the wall of the bedchamber, it’s time to sleep.
But I can’t find sleep.
I slip into the sheets, and they annoy me.
