I storm out of the manor, ignoring Sebastian Vulce’swatchful gaze. He was no more than twenty feet from the courtyard, fully prepared to come rescue Cora from me.
I liked her.
“Elliot—”
“Drop it,” I snap. Then, weakly, “Please.”
Henry doesn’t push me. He keeps my frantic pace out of the manor and across the Night Realm. We don’t speak a word, and I do everything I can to erase that memory from my brain.
14
IF THIS IS AN EGO THING
CORA
Isit at the stone table long after Elliot and Henry leave. I planned to walk them back to neutral territory, or at least through the manor. Instead, I watched them leave. Watched Elliot leave with that horrible look on his face.
Shame.
He was mortified that he could like someone like me, and I don’t blame him. Even as a kid, I was used to people reacting that way to me. Disgust. Horror. Hatred. The thing is, Elliot never reacted that way. He’d only ever been kind and gentle with me. Witnessing the opposite felt like years of trauma, all packed into one anguished look.
“Are you planning to sit out here all day?”
I startle at the voice. Vampires are notorious for their stealth, but after living with them for so long, I’m typically good at detecting them. I’m too distracted sitting out here, and that, more than anything, means it’s time to return to my quarters.
“I was just leaving,” I say. I loop my bag over my shoulder and stand, finally looking at Amelia.
She’s wearing skin-tight black pants and a sheer black top. As usual, she has bold red lipstick and her thick curls are loosearound her face. She’s one of the youngest vampires in physical appearance. Maybe twenty. Twenty-two at most. It’s only her eyes that make her seem older, wiser.
When she looks at me, I get the unsettling feeling she seeseverything.
“You’ve been out here for hours,” she says. She strides into the courtyard, the soft afternoon sun gleaming off her dark skin.
There’s only one way she’d know that.
“Master should mind his own business,” I grumble.
“In his mind, youarehis business, Cora,” she says. Her voice is gentle, but there’s an edge of concern in her words. “Perhaps you should tell him of your…relations with the Lyrie boy.”
“I’m not sleeping with him,” I say. I brush past Amelia, striding into the manor with the confidence of a king. This time, I’m paying enough attention to hear Amelia follow. “We were friends in school. That’s all.”
“Do friends steal each other’s memories?” she asks. Her voice is low, mockingly sweet.
I stop so abruptly she has to step backward to avoid hitting me. She’s not much taller than I am, but I still have to tilt my chin to look at her. My chest heaves as I glare at her, as I try to keep my magic from spiraling out of control.
“Sebastian had no right to eavesdrop,” I snap. My voice shakes, trembles so hard it beats in rhythm with my racing heart. “Elliot has nothing to do with the sunwalker spells. And what…what happened in the past is none of his—oryour—concern.”
Amelia doesn’t immediately respond. She stares at me for an uncomfortably long pause, dark eyes wide and full of knowing.
“I’ve never heard you call Sebastian by his name,” she says.
It’s not the comment I expect. I reel backward, only now realizing she’s right. I never call Sebastian by his name. He’s always been Master. He’s always been some high, untouchable figure inmy life. My savior in more ways than one. I’ve never doubted, never challenged him, not really.
“It slipped,” I say. Then, with a shake of my head, I add, “It doesn’t matter, Amelia. Just…let it go. All of this. Please.”
“I’m worried about you,” she says. Her voice is still low, but the curiosity has mostly evaporated. Now, there’s just pure, raw worry. And I hate that even more. “Elliot was clearly more than a friend?—”
“Amelia,” I snap. “Let it go. I’ve got it under control.”
