My fists balled at my sides, and I was surprised to find added pressure in my right hand. I looked down and found myself holding a silver dagger, its hilt tightly gripped inside my fist.
“Oh, are you going to kill me?” she asked, giggling.
I might.
Several times my gaze shifted from the clenched dagger to the princess.
She let out another blood-poisoning laugh. “You don’t have it in you, do you?” Every word she uttered tainted me, consumed me, took over every part of me that made me whole, and spread through me like the venom of a snake. My fist tightened, my gaze lingering on the tempting dagger. “Come on, do it. I know you want to.” Her lips curved. “Do it, and everything that I took from you will be yours once more.”
I strode towards her and clenched my free hand around her neck. She stiffened, eyes wide.
Then I placed the tip of my dagger against her belly.
“Do it,” she choked out.
The rage-filled roar that ripped from me reverberated around us, urging me to push the dagger through her belly. I gritted my teeth so tight my jaw ached, and I stared at her. Tears dripped at the tormenting frustration. I tore myself in half. A part of me—one made of hate and jealousy—implored me to slice her open, yet another part of me…I—I just couldn’t.
“No.” It came out with reluctance, but it was better than ayes,I hoped.
I lowered the dagger to my side and let go of her neck, only to seize back my necklace. I gently rubbed its raw stone with my thumb. My brows furrowed. The grey was the right shade, but its texture felt smooth and glossy, rather than rugged and cratered like the moon or like—like the walls of those caves.
The caves.
This isn’t real.
“This isn’t real,” I breathed, letting go of the dagger. I didn’t hear aclink.
It felt like a rush—or more like the sensation of free-falling—and it snapped me back to reality.The caves.The shadow of a snake gracefully moved away from me, reaching deep waters until it disappeared.
“Gods,” I mumbled. My hand went to my neck—my fingertips felt stone beneath fabric. I huffed in relief.
Cinnamon is safe at the orphanage.
“I’ll fucking kill you!” Marshen roared to my left. I jerked, snapping my head towards him.
Marshen’s body trembled uncontrollably. The only thing keeping him on his feet was the forked points of the glorious snake’s tongue at his temples.
Mercy, forgiveness, control.The test that tempts one’s mind and soul.
“Blanca! No!” Marshen screamed in either rage or terror.
“Marshen! Do not kill him! Or her. Do not kill anyone!”
He must not have heard me.
“I’m going to fucking tear you apart. You were so jealous, you couldn’t just let us be. But I’m not taking any more of this shit.”
“Marshen! It’s not real. Snap out of it!”
Marshen grunted, his right arm jerking as if he, too—wherever he was—held some weapon.
Well, I certainly couldn’t harm the snake, and I couldn’t let Marshen harm anyone in there either, yet I could, perhaps…
I neared Marshen, one eye on the open-mouthed snake, the other on the dagger. I took his right hand. I held it firmly, resisting his jerking twitches. I drew a thin line across his palm, just as I had done with mine. Blood trickled its way out with the same languidness. Marshen flinched, his brows furrowing.
“What the? This—it can’t be. This—this isn’t real,” he muttered. Then he rasped faintly, “You will always be mine.”
Marshen’s eyes snapped open. The snake’s tongue slowly retracted just as my armed hand did. Marshen swayed unsteadily, his breath uneven. I ducked, grabbing him by his forearm and draping his arm over my shoulder.
