“What was his name?” I demand louder.
A quick sigh sags her shoulders in disbelief. She shakes her head, notwanting to give in. “Only if you promise you won’t say anything to him about it.”
“Marcella,” I growl. “You will tell me what his name is. I command it.”
Her eyes narrow at my test of power. Reluctantly, she looks me up and down before grumbling, “Crawford.”
“I’ll promise you on one condition,” I say quieter as I brush a hand through the hair at her shoulder. “Thatyoupromise me if he even insinuates anything like that to you again, or physically threatens you, you tell me. And let me handle it as I wish to.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. Back to that fiery defiance. After tapping a finger repeatedly on her arm and watching me, she eventually sighs. “Fine.”
“Fine.” I mirror. As I open the door and we both slip out, I whisper, “I’ll tell Devin you’re not to be excused.”
Forty-Five
- LYRA -
Current day
The next morning after the ball, we’re all gathered in the dining room. Rain pours outside, washing the mountainsides in gray and collecting on the windowpanes in speckled drops. The room is lit by the overhead chandeliers and the tall candles lining the tables. Lady Bethany commands us all to take our seats for breakfast, and as I grab my chair to pull it out my fingers tremble.
On the walk here, I noticed a glimmer in the shadows near a curtain in the hallway of our rooms. Barely saw it as we swept by. A sparkle in the corner of my eye for a half second before it was gone. Yet, I couldn’t ignore it. Allowing the others to pass me, I took a few steps back until that pinprick of a gleam caught my eye once more. After I carefully brushed the curtain back, I found the source to be one single earring.
Glittering with tiny diamonds and rubies set in gold, with a crimson speckle of imperfection. I dropped it as soon as I realized what it was, when the footsteps of the other women faded as they rounded the corner of the hallway out of sight.Blood.Quickly grabbing the earring, I stuffed it into my pocket and raced after the group.
And now as I take my seat, I brush my palms down my gown to feel for that small bump of proof in my left pocket.
Sliding a glance to Marcella sitting at my left, Aelia gabs on about how lovely her dinner was last night with Cyrus. Marcella seems in a world of her own. Eyes set on her plate as she takes thoughtful bite after bite of fruit. I’m dying to ask her what she thinks of the earring I found.
I’m also dying to ask her what happened last night.
She hadn’t come to my room as she usually does. And I still can’t theorize what it is that happened between dinner and her storming up to Cyrusand me. Then again, what could’ve happened after she and Cyrus spoke alone in the reflection room. I was swept away by Aelia for a good portion of the night—missing the time that Marcella must have slipped out of the reflection room. But not missing the time Cyrus left.
As he pulled the door closed behind him, I only got a glimpse of his face. Downtrodden. Eyes low and hand lingering on the handle for a long few moments before he stalked off and left the room entirely.
It wasn’t long after Lady Bethany dismissed us for the night.
I spent a good portion of my night staring out the window. Weighing my skills of scaling the castle walls to her room to check on her, as she did me. But the wine was far too much. I had made a mistake. And instead, I fell asleep leaned up against the windowpane. I dreamt of the beast again. The forest, blood, women screaming. Of its call.
“Come to me, and I won’t hurt the others.”
I woke in the middle of the night, standing before my bedroom door with my hand outstretched for the handle. The rest of the night I stayed awake until the sun rose.
“Girls,” Lady Bethany calls out. “Considering the inclement weather, we have decided to postpone today’s lesson outside for tomorrow. Today shall be your free day to do as you wish.”
As we all rise from our seats and crowd to the stairs, I can’t help but feel downcast at the women around us. It should come as hope that our numbers are dwindling. Seven died in the second trial, and two women have disappeared since becoming sick. The reality that not everyone will stay looms over us all. That there will only be one. And the others likely will die in the third and final trial.
As we crest the landing and spill out into the hallways, I move through the crowd for Marcella. Hoping to spend the afternoon with her and debrief on all that happened last night and this morning.
But she’s slipping through the crowd. I reach out and brush her forearm, and she steps out of my touch to whip a quick look at me.
“Are you alright?” I whisper as the other women’s footfalls muffle it.
She glances from my face down to my hand, then back up. “Perfectly fine.”
She begins to walk again, and I speed up to be beside her. Aelia quickly following behind us.
“Are you upset with me?” I prompt, searching her face.
