Page 65 of Divine Oaths

When our gazes met, my heart caught in my chest. Despite myself, my anger shifted into something different, something urgent.

“I know you hate me right now. Your powers aren’t quite yours anymore, and my family has you caught in the twisted, awful world of the curse. But can you blame me for wanting to keep this away from you? Back when we were coworkers at Louisa’s stall, it was just…” He paused, gathering himself. “Us. It was just us. I think it was the happiest I’d been in a long time.”

Everything between us, everything within the last year, came brimming to the surface.

As much as I hated to admit it, hearing him confess how much he’d valued our time together meant something to me. For so long, I’d thought my feelings for him were all in my head. But I’d known he’d felt something too. Even if it wasn’t love, like I’d wanted, I’d been special to him just as he’d been special to me.

We orbited each other, both of us heated and longing, drawn once again into our perpetual game of chicken.

But this time, it felt like Russian roulette.

I broke first, flinching against the burn of his stare. But he pulled me into his arms, not letting me retreat. So, I laced my arms around his neck and let him hold me. His familiar scent was intoxicating. I sank into him, and he wrapped his arms around my waist, burrowing his head against the crook of my neck. When his lips brushed my lower jaw, I gasped, closing my eyes, knotting his shirt in my hands as we took each other in.

The rhythm of our heartbeats became one.

“I missed you,” he whispered. “Sianna, I miss you so much.”

He was speaking in the present and the past, as if, even in his arms, there was that distance again. He brought my wrist to his mouth, and with a gentle touch, he kissed the translucent mark there. A shiver of pleasure coursed through me. And there too was that voice, that hopeful refrain deep inside me that wanted us to go back to how things were.

“We can fix this, Jojo,” I whispered. “But I need you. We both do.”

He knew about my feelings for him. He always had.

“If what you saw in your vision is true, if Kasem inherits Westfield, your powers and his lifeline will still be connected in some way, even if the curse is broken. Focus on learning to control your powers. Don’t let yourself be trapped here by whatever… feelings either of us have for you. Trust me, you’re just a toy to him, Sianna. A means to the inheritance. A way to get to me. He and I have no right to ask anything of you but your forgiveness.”

Our orbit came to a collision, the impact a crater that neither of us could cross.

“He’s your brother, Ojore,” I said, using his real name as my last resort. A name for all these years, I’d never known.

“Don’t do that,” Jojo said.

“But that’s who you are. Ojore Saint James.”

“I don’t go by that name anymore. I gave you the journals. And I gave you this warning. That is all I’m able to offer, Sianna. I’m sorry.”

Even after everything, he was pulling away from me.

“Fine,” I spat. “Don’t help. We don’t need you. I don’t need you. We’ll break the curse ourselves.”

I wasn’t going to chase him anymore; not for his help and not for the love I yearned for. And even if he changed his mind, even if he miraculously found a way to unbind my powers from Kasem’s lifeline and help us break the curse, I would never forgive Jojo.

He’d had a chance to choose us, to choose me. And instead, he’d kept to his silence and his secrets. He always did.

I left then, taking the same exit as Kasem and bursting up the stairs to the living room, past the startled-looking faculty and research fellows enjoying breakfast. Jojo didn’t call after me. He didn’t even try to stop me.

And somehow, that was worse than anything.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The villainy of fears

I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE in my Piano I class. But with Jojo’s help out of reach, and Kasem and me searching for answers, I skipped my morning classes to find Vivian.

It was like she was avoiding me. She wasn’t in her usual trappings on campus: the study rooms, roaming Poppy House, or lumbering wistfully in the School of Fine Art student lounges. So when Kasem suggested I check the stairwells between the painting studios and the practice rooms, I nearly bolted down the steps.

There, I found Vivian.

She stood leaning over the banister, her eyes pressed shut, a soft smile on her lips as she listened to two violinists practice with each other. I’d quickly learned that it could get competitive booking a practice room, which meant that the stairways between floors became makeshift rehearsal rooms.