Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 132625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
“Maybe.” I shrug. “Or maybe I just fear the thing that broke me more than I fear the thing that could have.”
“I already told you: You aren’t broken,” he says.
“That remains to be seen.” I extend a hand toward the too-hot flames and let them heat my skin. “I think I fear the darkness because it changed me. It became part of me. Ask anyone who knew me before. I believed there was so much good in the world. So much to look forward to. And he locked me in that cell and then trapped me in my own body, and I stopped believing that.”
My hand has gone from pale to pink to red from the heat of the fire.
“I would’ve died in that cell if he hadn’t forced me to eat, if he hadn’t forced water down my throat. I would’ve found a way to end it if Crissa hadn’t used her magic to soothe the chaos and panic in my mind. Or after, if you hadn’t arrived. I heard a hope in your voice that I recognized from the girl I’d been before he’d taken me—the girl I used to be—and instead of wanting to escape my body, my life, you made me dream of escaping that cell. And that was exactly what he wanted.”
“I can’t be sorry that you survived,” he says, his voice a gritty rasp. He takes my hand in his, and when he brings it back to our sides, he holds it there, as if he can absorb the burning sensation. “I’m sorry that it happened in a way that helped him, but I refuse to apologize for keeping you here.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “I don’t want you to. I get it now. I understand why you made the choices you did.” My eyes brim with tears, but I laugh. It sounds crazed. “He almost won. If that little girl he locked up were about to face what I am, it wouldn’t have mattered if there was a way out of the bargain. I would’ve gladly surrendered to the pain. He wanted to break me. He needed me to be so fragile that when the flames burned me to ash, I’d surrender. He wanted to make me weak, but he didn’t realize he was teaching me just how much pain I can endure and survive. I am so much stronger than he is.” I stare into the flames, imagine I am the flames.
He turns his face into me and brushes his lips at the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder. “Then why do you seem so sad?”
“I’m not, not really. Just contemplating what I want.”
“What’s that?” His voice is so soft, almost like he’s afraid he might not like my answer.
I wiggle until he loosens his grip enough that I can spin in his arms. He takes my face in his hands and brushes tears away with the rough pads of his thumbs. “I want to live.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Felicity
The Grimoricon was a heavy book when Jasalyn took it from the Midnight Palace, but in the time it’s taken her to call her goblin, get to Elora, and walk to the witch’s hut, it’s changed into a slime exuding the stench of rotting flesh and a heavy stone so big she had to use her cape to drag it behind her. Now it’s a cat that’s burrowed itself against her chest and is purring loudly enough to block out the cacophony of the noisy village of Fairscape.
The moment she steps into the witch’s cottage the purring stops and the cat curls its claws into her flesh, hissing. In the next second, Jas is holding a black rat with red eyes and a long, fat tail. She drops it without thinking, and it scurries to the door they just came in. The witch throws up a hand and the door swings shut before the rat can escape.
“You found it,” she says, stepping around her worktable and reaching for the creature. It shrinks down to mouse size and skitters up Jasalyn’s skirt.
The witch glares. “You want your ring? Give me that book.”
Jasalyn’s stomach twists. She suddenly isn’t so sure of anything. Will her sister forgive her when she realizes the Grimoricon is missing? Will this witch’s ring really work? Could anything take away the fear she carries around all the time? “You’ll give the book back, though, right? After you’ve made the ring?”
“I never promised that.”
“But my sister—”
“Will never suspect you stole it.” Her smile is anything but kind.
The mouse has its claws deep in her flesh beneath the skirt, but Jas doesn’t attempt to pull it away.
“Do you want this ring or not?” the witch snaps.
She swallows but the lump of dread doesn’t leave her throat. “What exactly is the deal again?”
The witch slides a roll of parchment out from behind the clutter of apothecary bottles on the wall and unrolls it on the table between them. “By accepting the ring,” she says, tapping the page, “you agree to forfeit your immortal years by surrendering this life of yours on the eighteenth anniversary of your birth. In return, for as long as the magic holds true, whenever you wear the ring, you will carry the kiss of death on your lips and have numbness replace the fear in your heart.”