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“I should take you back to my room.”
“No,” I say, pushing upwards, trying to shrug out of his hold as the sudden need to throw up burns my throat. “Let me go.”
I shove him off me, stumbling to my feet, needing to get away from him so I can throw up in peace. In a few steps that’s exactly what I do. I purge myself of the vision and of what I did. The shock and guilt releasing from me, splattering across the cobblestones.
I’m going to kill The Masks. Isawit.
That notion has turned from a thought into fact.
More bile burns my throat and I wretch over and over again. I don’t understand my physical reaction. This is what I wanted, wasn’t it? They deserve nothing less.
“Christy, this was a bad idea.” Leon rests his hand on my back, his hand sliding up and down as he tries to comfort me. It’s a warm, kind gesture and in that moment I don’t flinch from his touch, struck momentarily by the fact it doesn’t hurt. Ever since I died and was brought back to life, the painful sensation no longer exists. His touch doesn’t hurt. Right now, it doesn’t even repulse me. I rise up, stepping away from him, wrapping my arms around myself as I try to understand why that is.
“Just leave me be.”
“What happened, Christy?” he asks as I put space between us.
“I just fainted,” I repeat. “It was nothing.”
“It wasn’t nothing.” he pushes, his eyes pensive as he observes me from the other side of the courtyard just like he did that night Jakub handcuffed me to this tree. I’ve no doubt he’s remembering our last time here together. I certainly can’t forget it.
“You chained me to this tree…” I say, implying that I fainted from the memory when really the opposite was true. My voice trails off as I stare at The Weeping Tree, seeing not myself tied there, but Leon, Jakub and Konrad, their chests dripping with blood, my name carved into their skin, death only moments away.
“We did.” He nods, his lips pressed into a hard line as he stares at me for long moments. “The damage is done. We can’t take it back, can we?”
“No. You can’t,” I agree, swiping my hand across the back of my mouth.
Part of me wants to do violent things, wants to hurt him, is glad I’m going to get my vengeance. The other part of me, the part that sits within the impenetrable wall encasing my heart, wants him to get on his knees and grovel for my forgiveness, to allow him that opportunity to do so. To allow myself to forgivehim. That part sickens me most of all.
“We should go,” he says eventually, raking a hand through his hair. “Thirteen will come looking for us soon. I don’t want to piss her off. That woman has skills beyond my comprehension. Pretty sure she’s capable of killing us all. Honestly, I’m not sure why she hasn’t tried already. It’s not as if we don’t fucking deserve it...” He gives me a wry smile, before turning on his heels and striding towards the door leading to the Numbers private wing of the castle.
“She’s not the only one capable of killing you,” I murmur back, my words lost beneath a gust of wind that sends goosebumps scattering over my skin. The Weeping Tree creaks and groans, the ghost of years past mourning three deaths that are yet to unfold.
