“Will you not come to me?” Corabeth asked, reached out a hand, and took a single step back so she was just out of reach.
A fire lit behind Ely’s eyes as he reached for Corabeth’s hand.
“Do you want to come back with me?” Ely asked, eager now. “Mother and Father will be home, but…”
“No,” Corabeth giggled lightly, pulling Ely along, back towards the misty woods behind her. “Look what happened thelast time we were seen together. I know a place where we can go.”
A branch snapped under Corabeth’s foot as she reached the first tree, and Ely halted all of a sudden, her spell broken.
“In the woods? What about the Beast?” Ely asked, peering warily into the forest over Corabeth’s shoulder.
“It’s quite safe. I’ve gone looking for firewood plenty of times, and the Beast never bothered me,” Corabeth tried to convince him. Still, he stalled.
“I don’t know…” he hesitated and went to pull his hand away. But Corabeth took a desperate step closer to him, pressed his hand to the bare skin on her chest, slightly lower than was necessary, and gazed up into his eyes.
“Can you feel how fast my heart beats for you?” she asked. This was something she didn’t need to fake. Corabeth’s heart truly raced, although for different reasons.
Whatever doubts Ely had managed to form in his mind were gone the moment his hand landed on Corabeth’s chest. When she started walking backwards again, there was no resistance from him. In four meager steps, they had crossed the tree line. They were now in Rooke’s forest.
Corabeth’s expression hardened in a second, and she dropped Ely’s hand. Then she looked at the tall shadow looming behind him.
In the blink of an eye, Rooke had his large hand wrapped around Ely’s throat, and he started dragging him. Ely was a ragdoll, being hauled along. He grabbed uselessly at the hand holding him, his feet kicked, and some pathetic sounds escaped his lips.
Corabeth hurried after them and grabbed hold of Rooke’s cloak as the three of them navigated the unnaturally thick fog that suddenly surrounded them. In mere moments, it thinned out again, and they were behind the familiar mansion.
Corabeth let go of the cloak and fell behind a few steps to get a good look at the helplessly thrashing Ely.
“Makes it quite impossible to scream when someone holds your neck like that, doesn’t it?” she asked, looking down at him.
Ely’s bulging eyes were on Corabeth, mouth moving like a fish on dry land without a single sound coming out. As she watched him like that, she realized she had felt more pity for the animals she had brought for Rooke.
Rooke tossed his body to the ground, allowing Ely his first breath in nearly a minute. Coughing and hacking, he drew a ragged breath.
“Corabeth,” Ely cried between coughs, “Help me!”
Rooke squatted down by the man. “You dare beg for her help? Try asking for her forgiveness first,” he spat, pure venom coating his words.
Corabeth stood rigidly, hands clasped in front of her to keep them from shaking, and beheld the sorry sight.
“I don’t want an apology,” she said, her tone cold. She did not look him in the eyes. She only stared at his grubby hands, which had turned red from the cold and had once torn at her against her will. Hands that deserved to suffer.
Ely looked from Corabeth to Rooke and nearly screamed. He still clawed at his neck, although he wasn’t being held anymore. He made a feeble attempt to crawl backwards away from Rooke, but he was shaking too badly.
“What is this?” he asked, addressing Corabeth again, voice breaking.
“You’re going to die, Ely,” Corabeth announced and gave him a moment when he began to weep. “It’s not entirely your own fault. Some generations back, your ancestors placed a curse on my friend here and now…”
Ely’s weeping became louder and louder, streams of tears and snot streaking his face.
Corabeth sighed and glanced at Rooke. “He’s not listening.”
A loud crack sounded across the courtyard as Rooke backhanded the man, silencing him.
Corabeth squatted down into the snow on the other side of Ely.
“Please, Miss Corabeth, I don’t want to die,” Ely begged, reaching out towards her with a shaky hand before Rooke swatted it away.
“It’s necessary to break the curse, I’m sorry,” Corabeth said without feeling much regret. “You might not be entirely evil yourself, Ely, but you are the fruit of an evil tree.”
