She nodded once.
I reached into the pocket of my robe. They were just shells. Useless things. Trinkets. If she could give me a way forward—anyway—then the price was nothing. Besides, I knew how to make more.
I dropped the shells into her waiting hand. “Fine. Tell me how to remove this necklace.”
The old witch licked her lips greedily, so pleased with herself, before letting her eyes meet mine once again. “Which necklace? The bloodstone? Or the cursed choker?”
I stared at her blankly. “The choker, of course.”
Imogen dropped the shells into the bubbling water. The lake responded immediately, spiraling inward like a whirlpool. She dragged her hand through the water, urging it on. I couldn’t look away, not even when she began chanting. Drips of water fell from pointed stalactites, raining down on me. Her eyes flooded the space with an emerald light so fierce it stained everything. The walls, the ceiling, my skin.
“In order to remove the cursed choker,” she began. I was holding my breath. The lace collar strained against my skin as my muscles tensed. “You mustdie.”
Chapter 8
La Tentation
CLAIRE
The sound of blood pounding in my ears drowned out everything else.
I’d come searching for answers, but what I got was a death sentence. The same one I’d had when I left my home. Except now, I knew it didn’t matter if I discovered the location or relics or not. In the end, the choker would kill me.
Imogen sank below the water, disappearing for so long I thought she might’ve drowned. The whole time I stared impatiently at the murky water, hoping for a sign that this was all some joke. But no such sign came.
Eventually, the witch reappeared, her silver hair dripping down the side of her face. Her skeletal fingers clutched a handful of shells. I realized she’d been collecting the ones she’d thrown into the water. She beamed at them like they were her children, showing off yellow, chipped teeth. “At last,” she hissed, speaking directly to the shells.
I had no idea why this old witch wanted these shells, but ifshe was so thrilled to have them, she owed me a better answer. “What did you mean,I have to die?”
She swam toward her collection of shells and placed the ones in her hand with the others. “I don’t think that requires clarification.”
“There has to be more to it,” I insisted. “A spell. A potion. Something you can give me to break the curse.” My voice climbed an octave despite my best efforts to remain calm.
Imogen’s expression went blank. “Funny,” she said, “your husband had the same reaction when I told him how to break your matebond.”
The pounding in my ears doubled. “My… what?”
“Bastien came, just as you came, desperate for a spell to sever your bond.”
My chest tightened painfully. Bastien—here? In this place? It was almost impossible to imagine.
“And I told him the same thing I’m telling you. There is no escaping fate. Not unless you want to involve the gods.”
I tore off my robe and shoved it into my closet, searching for something to wear as I battled with my thoughts. Ripping gowns off the rack in a flurry of black and gold, barely considering each one before tossing it on the ground.
“None of it is true,” I reassured myself. “Not the goddesses. Not her prediction. Not the fact that I have to die to remove the necklace.” I paused, gripping a dress. Bastien would never have asked for a way to break our matebond.
A sob lodged itself in my throat, making it hard to breathe. Maybe he had thrown a handful of shells into her lake,begging for a way to rid himself of me. He’d been angry enough with me after what happened at his Sanguination Ball. If that were true, he’d been carrying around this knowledge the entire time.
I threw the dress on the ground. “It was all lies.”
Strengthening my resolve to find real answers from someone I trusted, I chose a black lace dress draped over gold satin. It had a pretty square neckline and long, tapered sleeves, with a row of buttons running up the center. I dressed as quickly as I could, fumbling over the million buttons.
Before leaving to find Devlinn, I paused in front of my vanity. My long, unbound red hair hung in thick waves. I’d never been taught how to style my hair in the ways of a real lady, let alone a duchess, but something needed to be done about it.
Hesitantly, I twisted it into a bun at the nape of my neck and secured it with pins, adding a thick black headband to cover up as much of the red as I could. Once I was satisfied, I tucked the horn inside my dress pocket, called to my wolves who walked at my side like two guards, and made for the wing of the castle where my consorts resided.
While our bedchamber was warm, the corridors were chilly—not just in temperature, but in mood. No one spoke to me, save for a curtsey or bow acknowledging my title as Bastien’s sanguine partner. Our marriage was a secret, but that didn’t stop the judgment. I felt it in the lingering glances at my red hair and the wolves padding at my side.
