Page 223 of Sinister

“Perhaps I would not mind it either, but there are other considerations.”

He raises a brow at me.

“What about children?” I ask tentatively.

Surprise flickers across his face, and I realize he never considered this perspective.

“Me getting with child is a very real possibility, Sin. I would not want a child to only know darkness . . . isolation.”

He lets out a loud sigh.

“You are right. I should have thought better of it.” He pauses. “What do you want to do then?”

“I think there is only one way to do this,” I say carefully as I put on my dress. “We have to discredit the ones who would be against us.”

The corner of his mouth lifts up in amusement.

“Do go on, my smart darling,” he drawls.

“My father is already losing credibility because it seems he’s sold his morals for money. But that’s not enough as long as he has Mr. Snowden’s backing.”

“You want to reveal to the world that Snowden was involved in the rituals, too.”

I nod. “With everyone thinking him a hypocrite, the narrative will shift. There will no longer be a right or wrong, one side who is good and the other evil.”

“True,” he agrees. “It would have been far easier if you’d just accepted to be sequestered with me here,” he adds wistfully.

“Perhaps, but nothing easy is truly worth it, is it?”

He chuckles.

“So smart and wise.” He lets out a whistle. “All right, Petra. We will do it your way. I will ask my mentor to help us, too. He knows everything about Snowden.”

“Thank you,” I murmur. “There is just one other thing. That . . . creature. If Snowden knows we’re after him, he might try to send the creature after us.”

“Leave that to me, Petra. Nothing will touch you, I promise.” He comes closer to me just as I button the last bit of my dress. He shocks me when he drops to his knees and presses his lips against my stomach. “Not you, nor our future children. You have my vow for it.”

Sin uses his shadows to transport me back to Snowden’s house. The party is still alive, the music louder than ever. It seems there are even more people wandering the halls of the manor. One quick look at the clock on the mantel, and I realize I haven’t been gone that long.

I tentatively step inside the grand ballroom, hoping no one has noticed my absence—not with all the chaos surrounding Mr. Snowden’s departure.

As I enter, I spot my mother at the other end of the room. I make my way toward her, doing my best to seem inconspicuous. But as I reach her side, I realize I needn’t have worried. She’s leaning against a column, swaying slightly.

As I get closer, I catch the sharp scent of spirits on her breath. Her eyes are unfocused, and she looks about ready to topple over with the slightest push.

“Petra,” she slurs.

“Yes, Mother?”

“I was looking for you,” she continues.

“Really? Why?”

“Your father . . . he was looking for you.”

She’s not making much sense, but I suppose I can use this to my advantage.

“What do you mean? I’ve been here the entire time. Next to you.”