“So you know.”
I blinked in surprise, then nodded, sweeping his hand off my wrist. Was he really admitting it to me? Here and now?
“Then why were you with him? He’ll kill you too!”
Kill me? It seemed Declan had misunderstood me completely.
“Varden is dead, Declan. If you can’t deal with that, you should see a therapist.” The words left my mouth flat. I had no room for Declan’s irrational paranoia right now.
“Abraxas swore it was him…” His brown eyes narrowed. “That he saw you in the Grove of Mirrors.”
The Grove of Mirrors.My brows knit, and I automatically shook my head. The only person I had been with there was?—
Preston.
Cold hands clenched around my throat, choking me, forcing the air to leave my lungs.
“What does Varden look like?” I asked my voice, barely an echo of itself.
“Blonde chap, this tall.” He drew a line into the air around the top of his head, but my sight had already blurred and my stomach dropped, leaving a gaping hole behind.
“It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?” Declan let out a hysterical laugh, but I could barely hear it as the high-pitched ringing in my ears drowned him out. “Because he should be dead, shouldn’t he?” He paused, running a finger over his full lips. “Although, I suppose, he wouldn’t be the first to cheat death…” he muttered under his breath.
He should be dead, shouldn’t he?
A gnawing feeling twisted in my gut.Varden Aldridge.I shook my head, but the name seemed to stick, circling back like a trap. Could it be? It couldn’t. It didn’t make sense.Preston.
“Where’s your fiancé, Elodie?” I couldn’t tell if Declan really asked me that or was it my imagination tricking me.
I glanced back at the mirror to find the warning gone. The glass had cleared. The girl on the other side of the silver surface had a streak of black in her eyes, and for the first time in my life, I recognised her for who she was.
Me.
Blood pouredfrom my palm as I gripped the knife I’d snatched off a console table. It was only a letter opener, but I didn’t care. I stormed through the hedge maze, weaving between flickering-red walls. Preston was right; it looked like I was walking through hell.
Preston.
I gritted my teeth.
VardenAldridge. My supposedly dead fiancé, except he wasn’t dead at all.
He was the man whose lips I could still feel grazing mine.
My throat burned. I had no idea where I was going, or why. A giggling couple holding hands passed me, and as soon as they turned the corner disappearing from sight, I raised the knife and threw it into the bush ahead.
All this time I thought I was in charge, that he was helping me. But I was nothing but a puppet in a play of revenge. Because if Preston was Varden, and Varden’s entire family was murdered by the other three families, why else would he be here? The question grazed my mind like a knife, breaking skin.
Just don’t cross me, would you?
I wouldn’t dream of it, poison.
He had lied. That night we got lost in the tunnels…and when else? Everything? All of it? I clenched my jaw, tasting blood on my tongue. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to hurt him the way he hurt me.
The wind screamed between the hedges as I reached the centre and circled the sculpture, my movements numb and mechanical. I collapsed onto the cold bench, the fabric of my dress pooling around me like wet stone, anchoring me while my heart tried to tear free.
The snow was still falling, the flakes landing on my cheeks like cold fingertips. I lifted the knife that lay on the snow infront of me and clenched the blade, but even then, the pain was distant compared to the one I felt in my chest.
There are very few things that deserve your tears. Promise me you’ll never waste them on me.
