Her voice was calm, almost conversational, but I refused to entertain her ridicule.
My body pulsed with an ache that was almost unbearable as our connection remained tight.
“You’re trying very hard to hold them together.” She turned around and studied me.
“Someone has to.”
She shook her head. “And you will fail.”
The certainty in her voice scraped against my nerves, but I knew better. I had a choice. I had hope.
“Maybe,” I said. “But it won’t be the shadows that take us.”
She studied me for a few seconds, and behind her, my mother finally lifted her head fully.
For a second, just a second, our eyes met.
I couldn’t tell if she could actually see me or if she was only sensing something in the air.
But the look on her face wasn’t fear.
It was warning.
“Let her go,” I said again, bringing my gaze back to my grandmother.
The Priestess folded her hands loosely in front of her as a goblin walked up behind her with a cup of something she took.
“You misunderstand,” she said, sipping. “Your mother isn’t leverage.”
“Then what is she?”
Her eyes narrowed on me. “She’s simply a demonstration.”
The hall seemed to grow colder.
“I don’t need a demonstration.”
“From where I stand,” she said, “you do.”
My pulse pounded in my ears as I felt the words I’d wanted to say for so long hover close to my heart.
“I’m not joining you.”
Her expression didn’t shift.
“And I’m not helping you,” I added. “Not now. Not ever.”
For a moment, the hall went very quiet, and then the Priestess laughed.
Not loudly.
It was a soft, knowing sound.
Mariselle nodded once, as if confirming something she had suspected all along.
“We shall see.” The torches flared, and her gaze stayed on mine. “You think you stand against the shadows,” the Priestessmurmured. “But I recognize you, Maeve. You’re not afraid of them the way the others are. One day, you’ll stop pretending you are.
The hall shattered like glass, and the courtyard of the Academy slammed back into place around me, and I was too weak to get up.
