It was so eerie, so unexpected, that Corabeth resisted the urge to take a step back.
“You’re ending my bloodline?” Hyram asked and lifted his head. The grin on his face was savage, his eyes bloodshot.
“Yes,” Corabeth said and shifted uncomfortably. “To end the curse.”
Another roar of laughter came from Hyram, although there was no humor in it. The tears that spilled down his face added to the strange sight.
“Well, then, dear Corabeth. You will have to end your own life along with mine,” Hyram said, savoring the moment the words landed.
Corabeth did take a step back then. “What?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“Your mother never told you?” Hyram asked in a mocking tone.
Corabeth shook her head, barely finding the energy for the movements. Her hand lifted to her stomach as she struggled to catch a breath. Her dress suddenly felt like a cage around her.
“Corabeth,” Rooke called, and when she met his eyes, she saw something there she’d never seen before—panic.
She shook her head sharply and refocused her rage on Hyram.
“You’re lying!” she accused him.
“I wish I were,” Hyram spat, jerking towards Corabeth, “No one would wish for a daughter like you.”
Corabeth gasped as something fell into place in her mind. “That’s why you were so outraged that night. You found your sons assaulting their own sister!” she cried, unable to hold back the tears that spilled down her cheeks. She hated that he saw the way he had finally managed to break her.
Hyram glowered at her, hate burning in his eyes. “Your mother…”
“No!” Corabeth screamed. “Shut him up!”
She could not let him finish. Could not bear to hear of another way her mother had suffered. Whether Hyram had seduced her or taken her by force—she did not wish to know.
Rooke took Hyram’s head and slammed it against the rough bark of the tree. Once, twice, three times, before he fellunconscious. He let him slump to the ground, and in a matter of seconds, he was before Corabeth.
“I’m a part of it,” she cried, looking up into Rooke’s eyes. “I’m a part of your curse.”
Rooke, ever steadfast and sure, was frantic as he searched her face. His hands landed on either side of her face in an attempt to steady them both.
“It will be alright,” Rooke said, but there was no conviction in his voice. Only foolish hope.
Already, Hyram was starting to stir. But Corabeth—Corabeth couldn’t breathe. Her vision was starting to swim.
“Look at me,” Rooke said, pulling her attention back to him. “Don’t fall apart now.”
A command.
A command was good. Something to follow. Something to cling to.
Corabeth forced her breaths to slow.
“You kill him,” she said with determination. “If he’s lying, we’ll know, and all of this will be over. You’ll be free. If he’s telling the truth…”
Rooke hesitated. But this was how it was supposed to play out anyway. Hyram was supposed to die. The curse was supposed to be lifted.
Rooke’s eyes were those of an animal that had accepted its fate in the jaws of a predator. And fate was the cruelest predator of them all.
He pressed one last kiss on Corabeth’s lips.
A bitter goodbye.
