A twinge of pain gut-punched me. “No. I was just…mad. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Relief washed over his face. “Okay. Then please tell me, have I lost you for good?”
My heart clenched then twisted, squeezing every drop of life from my chest by the time my answer found my tongue. “I don’t know yet.”
Sebastian’s mouth lowered into a frown. “How many times do I need to apologize before you forgive me?”
I ripped my hands free from his grasp. “Start counting.”
Sebastian was rightwhen he alleged that I wouldn’t like what I read in his mother’s journal.
The following morning, I sat crossed legged on my bed, the open journal lying flat in front of me on top of the duvet. I didn’t think that it was possible to get any more angry than I already was, but after reading everything he hid from me over the past year, I was fuckingfuming.
His mother’s elegant handwriting swirled over every page of the notebook, the letters crafted into beautiful little secrets that until days ago, only Sebastian knew. Secrets ranging fromminuscule details of people’s lives, all the way to the prediction about the battle.
In the lines of the first few pages, I read about Sebastian—things his mother had predicted in regard to his life. Concerning Seb, the one foretelling that hurt the most was the one Cicily wrote regarding her own demise.
My sweet son, though I know that I cannot change the future, I still pray that this vision does not come to light. By the time you are reading this, I will already be gone, and you will be left with the trauma of my death. If there was anything I could have done to protect your precious, young mind from what you would see, I would have done it, but protecting your life was much more important. I am forever sorry and I will eternally miss you beyond the veil. I love you, Sebastian.
My eyes shrank as they fought to stifle back tears.
After a few pages of Sebastian’s fortunes, Cicily’s writing addressed predictions for Caelestis and the war. She wrote about Caelestis’ inevitable demise?—
When the castle no longer remains, the rest will fade.
I read the outcomes she predicted that had Seb terrified; things regarding Aldous that I could have lived my entire life without knowing—a feeling I’m sure Sebastian also felt when he first read it.
Then, about halfway through, I read about myself in the lines of parchment. My appearance was described perfectly, from the texture of my hair all the way down to the size of my feet. I perused the text, absorbing Cicily's predictions about my power, her claim about my mother, and other oddly precise details about my life.
Having lived through most of it, her writings actually made a lot of sense. On the very last page however, I found myself stumped.
What happens when too much godly power is forced into one body?
The same words overflowed the last pages of the journal, filling every spare inch of parchment, except for the very last line.
There is more. I have more.
Slamming the journal shut, I then tucked it into the dresser Sebastian had claimed. He hadn’t been in the room since I’d been shown to it. I doubted he would until I gave him the okay, which wouldn’t be happening any time in the near future—if ever.
Digging through my own wardrobe to find something to wear, I repeated Cicily’s writing to myself out loud. “There is more.” I pulled a shirt over my head. “I have more.” My feet stepped into a pair of pants. “Talk about vague and cryptic.” Pulling them up, I spun on my heel and let out a horrific shriek when I spotted Sawyer standing in front of my closed door.
My fingers spread over my thrashing heart. “Hell, Sawyer! You scared the life out of me!”
He smirked with a one-shouldered shrug. “My bad.” Casually, he sauntered into the room and threw himself down sideways on my bed, propping his head up on an elbow.
I never buttoned a pair of pants faster in my life. “Why didn’t you knock? Oh my gods. Did you see me get dressed?”
“No. But what does it matter? Remember when I walked in on you and Seb? And then…courtyard…battle…clothes burnt off…”
I sucked my lips in along with a pacifying breath. “Yes, Sawyer. I remember. Though I certainly wishyoudidn't."
His face softened as he watched me twist my hair into a tight braid, then his voice lowered. “Are you doing okay?”
“You just asked me that yesterday.”
“Yeah. And I’m asking again because I want the truth.”
“I told you the truth then. I said, and I quote,not even close.”
