Page 136 of Blood of the Fairest

Matron's tears, they are both right. I feel cold and ill.

There is worry in Verena's gaze as she looks at me and my bleeding hand—but though she tries to hide it, there is also a lingering need. A lick of her lips and a pained swallow.

Frustration sets in when I realize she still thirsts.

Meaning…Eris is right. On my own, I do not carry enough blood to satisfy her fully.

His past words echo back to me. The queen's diet is blood alone. Verena is starving herself.

"You need more," I tell her.

"Shh. I'm not drinking more of your blood right now, so just rest."

Immediately, my mind grows much more sluggish as her unwitting command affects me. This exhaustion is nearly suffocating as Verena rummages through the nearby bag for the bandages I packed.

Her soft, crisp scent surrounds me in comfort as she begins wrapping my hand.

"Men. For…more blood," I try again, but it comes out slurred as I fight the rest she ordered.

"Can we not use the B-word right now? Now that I'm thinking clearly, this shit is really getting to me—and I'm trying not to puke in a carriage, because I doubt that smell travels well."

I try to think of the word she prefers. "Cool aid. You needit…frommore…”

"Oh, great. Now you're slurring because of blood loss," she grimaces. "Get some sleep, big guy."

Immediately, I disappear into a deep rest.

33

Verena

I wake shivering on the floor of Rhinestone's creepy journal room.

A flickering candle sits on the cold ground beside me, casting shadows that dance in the chilling, utter quiet. In one of my hands, I idly grip the velvet that used to cloak the soul-baring mirror.

Releasing the velvet, I rise to my feet and hug my thin nightgown tighter around myself. Even though I dread what I'll see, I can't stop myself from peering into the single shard remaining at the top of the shadow-filled frame.

My own eye stares back at me.

The longer I look into this mirror, the more it makes sense. The darkness. The huge, missing fragments. Having it right in front of me like this forces me to face the bitter incompleteness I've tried to ignore for as long as I can remember.

I act whole just to get by and survive, but it's a lie. This mirror shows the truth.

And the truth is, I am this broken.

When I blink, the other me doesn't.

A chill creeps up my spine as I suddenly wonder if I'm looking at me, or the evil queen.

"Why am I here?" I whisper. "How did I wake up in the wrong world?"

The eye in the mirror finally blinks before a whisper fills the room. It's layered as if I'm hearing it from multiple people at once, making it nearly impossible to pick out convoluted words.

“…blood…power…fragment…gift…return...”

"Wait—return? How?" I try to demand the disconcerting mirror. "How can I get home?"

The whispers grow louder, building into a chant. I cover my ears and try to sprint from the room—but the second I step through the green door, I'm back in those hellishly cold woods, stained in blood as I race away from him all over again.