The Council sat in silence for a moment, taking in my speech.
“Then we vote,” Richard finally acquiesced. “I vote no. She’s a liability. If she is as strong as you say, Nico, then she will survive on her own. I’m not risking my son.”
“You don’t get to make that decision!” Alaric’s voice boomed, anger and rage making him shake.
The council ignored Alaric’s outburst as the vote continued.
“I vote yes,” Nico spoke gently. “She has potential. I can see it. She just needs support and nurturing.”
“I vote yes as well,” Uncle Dan added quickly.
“I vote no.” Dr. Duvall sat back, completely relaxed with essentially sentencing me to death. “Alaric is too bright and too powerful a Bloodwright to risk anchoring him to this girl.”
I gulped, my eyes falling to the old man, who looked torn. The silence in the room was deafening. With one word, I’d either live or die.
Elias finally spoke. “I vote yes. Either she and Alaric fulfill the Twinflame bond ritual, or she will not make it to Christmas.”
Relief flooded through me, and I staggered backward. Alaric held me up, his glare never leaving his father’s face as he led me out of the chamber. I still had my life, but I had the feeling that everything had changed irrevocably.
Chapter Eleven
Iawoke the next morning shivering, the memories of the aftermath of what had happened the night before flashing through my mind. I turned over in my bed, wrapping the covers tightly under my chin, with my right arm outstretched in front of me as I swiped through various social media apps. It was only 5am, but sleep continued to elude me.
After the impromptu council meeting, Alaric led me back to the surface where his driver was waiting with no Stonebound around in sight. Alaric was silent during the ride home, only finally speaking to me when he walked me all the way to my apartment door and told me goodnight and to meet downstairs at 7 AM the next morning. He seemed deep in thought, his forehead creased while his grip around my hand never wavered, not until he finally left me at my apartment door.
Before I could say anything, he had kissed me swiftly on the cheek, turned on his heel, and disappeared down the hall. I stood there dumbfounded for a few moments, my hand brushing the spot where I could still feel the warmth of his kiss.
I pushed myself up to my elbows, shoving my phone away as I continued to ignore all the text messages Sara-Kate had sent the night before. She was dying to hear about my date from last night, but I didn’t have the energy or the capacity to make up something just to appease her quite yet. My mind was still reeling from all that I had learned and from the fact that the only two people I could possibly talk to about this had been lying to me since the beginning.
I rubbed my eyes, pushing up to my feet as I meandered to the shower. I still had so many questions, but I hoped my training with Alaric would shed more light rather than cast me deeper into the shadows. There was something about this bond between Alaric and me—this Twinflame thing everyone kept mentioning. My ring flared and hummed as my thoughts drifted once again to Alaric. I stepped under the spray of the hot shower, willing away the cold that still lingered in my bones after last night.
I showered, trying to keep images of the Stonebound out of my mind. Every time I closed my eyes, I stood face to face with the Stonebound, their gaunt and lifeless eyes boring right through to my soul. Even at this moment, I felt as if I were being watched.
I quickly got ready, eager to get moving if not for anything than to dispel my dark thoughts from closing in. I opened my door, heading to the kitchen when the cracked door of Uncle Dan’s office, with light pouring out, stopped me. I glanced in, finding Dan at his desk, but instead of poring over books or documents, he sat back in his chair, a glass of what looked like bourbon in his hand, his eyes glazed as he seemed lost in thought.
I pushed the door open, making my presence known.
“A little early for that, isn’t it?” I tried to joke, tried to be normal, but the words felt like gravel in my mouth.
Dan jerked, almost spilling his drink as he noticed me. He tried to smile, setting the glass down on his desk. “Been a rough night.”
“Yeah.” I leaned against the doorframe, not quite ready to fully walk into the room. “You and me both.” I stared at him, willing my anger and frustration at his inaction to dissipate, trying not to give in to my raw emotions.
Dan sighed. “I wanted to tell you everything, Mari. Please believe me.”
“How can I?” I spat, the betrayal I felt rushing through me with fresh vengeance. So much for being calm and collected. “Youcouldhave told me everything; youshouldhave. Maybe then I wouldn’t have this stupid death mark and I wouldn’t have to be Twinflames with Alaric, whatever that means.”
Uncle Dan nodded as the guilt he had been carrying weighed heavily on his shoulders, seeming to physically push him down. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ve just been so distracted . . .”
“By what?” I roared, stomping into the room. “I’m so sick of half-truths and white lies. What is going on? I know you know more than what you are telling me.”
“That’s fair,” Uncle Dan admitted, hollow-eyed, as if he hadn’t slept at all.
He chugged his glass of bourbon before slamming it down on the table and standing in one swift motion. “To hell with the Council. You deserve answers.”
I froze, stunned, but when he strode to the bookshelf and tugged at a hidden lever, I found myself following. The familiar click opened the secret door within the bookshelf. The hidden Bloodwright room waited on the other side, heavy with the scent of dust and leather. I followed closely behind as he headed straight for the map of the world, the one with pins pushed in, mainly around dense urban areas. There were a lot of pins in the New England area that grabbed my attention.
“Up until recently, there have only been a few emergences of Bloodwrights per generation,” Uncle Dan explained as he pulled a file from underneath several ancient tomes and documents on the center worktable. He pulled out a chair for me, so I sat, listening with rapt attention while glancing at the different documents he pulled and handed to me. The first was an autopsy report on Michelle Nelson, the girl who had been murdered at Windsor Academy two weeks before I started attending the school. The report mentioned strangulation as the cause of death, but it was the pictures of her right arm that took my breath away. She, just like me, had the golden sigil tattooed from her collarbone down to her fingertips.
