“Why,” she repeats. This time it’s not a question.
“You already know,” I whisper.
Her eyes flash, and it’s the only confirmation I need. Elliot promised me he wouldn’t fight with his mama about her ruling, but I feared he would anyway. He’s too good. He can’t help but defend the defenseless, especially when it’s me.
“This is all for your little accusation?” she spits. Her magic pulses again, and this time, I feel it stretch for me. She’s ready to hurt me, to kill me, to ruin me. If only she understood, I’m ruined already. Ruined, with no hope of recovering.
“We don’t have time,” I say, rather than responding to her question. I glance past her, to the brightening sky visible between her orange drapes. “The sun will rise soon, and someone is bound to discover him. You need to go.”
Her glare hardens, only to soften when she glances over Elliot on the couch. He’s starting to snore, and despite everything else, that makes me want to smile.
Mind magic can be a powerful sedative. Despite his wounds, he’s sleeping peacefully. I imagine he will for the rest of his life. He won’t remember killing Harrison. He won’t remember what his best friend did to me. He won’t remember me at all, and as much as that burns my insides, it’s for the best.
For him, at least.
“He gave me his memories,” I say. Madam Lyrie’s attention snaps to me, mouth falling open. “No one will know the truth of what happened. Not even him.”
The silence stretches between us, and I watch as a dozen emotions flash over her features.
“Where’s the body?” she asks finally.
“I need your word first,” I say. Madam Lyrie’s face scrunches, a snarl twisting her lips. Before she can protest, I continue. “Promise me you won’t give me the death penalty.”
“You’re trying to barter?” she asks. “My son is bleeding out. His best friend is dead. And you…you’re using this to your advantage?”
“Blame Harrison’s murder on me. Exile me. Send me to the farthest reaches of the Echo,” I say, ignoring the malice in her tone. “Spare my life, and I promise, I’ll never come back.”
Madam Lyrie’s jaw works, but she can’t deny me. She knows as well as I do. Elliot’s all over that crime scene, and if I don’t tell her where that is, he’ll spend the rest of his life in prison. I only hope she doesn’t know I would never allow that to happen.
“Help me get him upstairs,” she says. She rises to her feet before looking expectantly at me. “Once my healer arrives, we’ll go.”
“Your word,” I demand.
“You have my word,” she bites out. “I’ll exile you, and you’ll never come back.”
And that is that.
Two days later,the council guard arrives at Mama Blake’s house. They tear me from Margot’s outstretched reach and drag me down their front porch. Neighbors all down the street poke their heads out to watch, and not one of them looks surprised. They don’t know what I’m being taken for, but they all assume I deserve it.
Maybe I do.
I don’t fight the guards. I enter the trolley and stare at my cuffed wrists. I’m wearing three pairs again, but no one knows the golden set is false. These silver ones are debilitating. Heavy. Exhausting. But they do nothing to my magic. I’d barely have to move, and I could kill every guard in this trolley.
I won’t.
I will give Madam Lyrie the chance to keep her word. And if she breaks it, I will be long gone before she destroys me again.
28
THIS IS AN ACT OF WAR
CORA
“Ican’t believe it exists,” Milas says.
The clan sits around the behemoth stone table in the courtyard, bathed in afternoon sunlight. Two worn pieces of parchment lie between us, along with the three canisters of Cursed Grounds’ sand.
Milas lays his severed werewolf ear—which he inexplicably carries everywhere these days—on the table. If I weren’t so eager to get started on the sunwalker spells, I’d ask why the hells he always has that thing with him. Milas takes one of the canisters and carefully unscrews the lid.
