“I don’t know what to believe anymore!” I turn and face the Centress, putting my back to Eli. Only briefly do I wonder if that’s a bad idea.
“I can make this quick,” she says, as though killing me were no more severe than ripping a bandage from my elbow, a motherly act.
“It’s the least you could do.” I try to sound fierce, but my voice is hoarse and shaky.
Her face softens for the two seconds she lets herself feel, then ices over to that expressionless look I’ve come to know so well.
She moves closer, cautiously at first, eyeing Eli, then in a blur, diving for me with both knives raised. I unfold my legs and kick the sole of my foot into her shin before she reaches me. Her leg gives out, and she falls forward, smashing her knees into the stone floor.
I’d love to finish what I started and take her neck in my hands with a grin on my face, but with the two knives in her grasp and how unbothered she is by the pain I cause, I prioritize escape. I roll away, but she pushes herself up onto her hands and injured knees without even a wince and goes after me, stabbing anywhere within reach.
My bare skin slips on the stone. I can’t move fast enough, can’t avoid the piercing blade. It passes straight through my arm, metal mangling muscle.
I shriek.
But it’s not the only unsettling sound.
I clamp my hand over my opposite arm and flip around. The Centress cackles. Eli has her hair wrapped around his wrist and her head wrenched back. He shoves her flat to the floor. Both knives slip from her hands and skid across the marble in my direction.
Whose side is he on?
“Get away while you still can, Everielle. He’ll leave you. Men never stick around,” she says through clenched teeth.
He jabs a knee firmly into her spine. “I will never leave her.”
I’m not sure if his conviction or the steady flow of blood down my arm shocks me more. I find her black eyes. “It’syouI want to get away from.”
The Centress’ dress is hitched up her thigh, and the sight of his naked body on top of her makes his come sizzle in my stomach acid. I stand and step on the handle of one of the knives then snatch the other up with my non-injured arm, waving it wildly in front of me.
“Give me the knife.” Eli stretches his arm out toward me.
“No.” Shallow breaths come faster and faster.
“You have terrible taste in men,” my mother says with her cheek smashed against the slippery floor.
“Shut her up!” I point the blade at them, my hand trembling. “If you care at all, shut her the fuck up and prove it!”
“Everything’s okay now. Hand me the knife,” Eli says.
“It’s not okay.” I shake my head, woozy and tired. Blood drains from the hole in my arm, puddling around my feet. I don’t feel the pain, at least nothing physical.
“Get in the water to stop the bleeding,” he says, still calm.
A lump forms in my throat, growing with every thought. “You planned all of this?”
“Who even knows anymore? All he does is lie,” the Centress hisses.
“No. Never, listen—”
“I needed my voice!” As hard as it is to say it, he needs to know. “You-you silenced me.”
His eyes swarm with regret. “I needed her to believe long enough to take her down.”
“Did you? Or is this just another one of your lies, and you’re working with her? Is that why I can’t love you? Because if I did, it would make it harder to watch me die?”
“That’s the last thing I want.” He answers much too quickly.
I drop my arm, my adrenaline fizzling, pain sneaking back. “Well fuck you too.”
