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“You don’t need to manhandle me,” I snapped.
“It’s better if you aren’t significantly harmed before the ritual, or I’d do a lot more than that,” Caleb said evenly. He flourished a hand. “After you, Ms.Vaughan. Your room awaits.”
I walked stiffly in front of him. I could feel his simmering rage, how much he wanted to hit me. Part of me wanted him to drivehis fists into me, slam me against the wall, squeeze his hands around my throat until I couldn’t breathe. The part of me that still thrashed in agonized guilt would welcome it.
Liar. Manipulator. Monster.Those words could have described either of us.
We walked to the Willows, and the blow never came. He simply waited for me to step inside, then closed the door behind me and locked it.
Alone, my resolve suddenly fled. I sank to the floor, wrapping my arms around my knees, and shook. I’d done it. I’d walked straight into the arms of my executioners, giving up my last fragile hope of flight. The only way out was through the center. I had to see it through.
I forced myself back to my feet. No giving up. No panicking. I wasn’t alone. Bryony was with me, even if she wasn’there.
A knock on the door made me jump to my feet. The door opened, and Sandra stepped into the room. Her appearance startled me—she’d never been at those endless, horrible meals, but if I forced myself to think of the blur of days since Caleb shot me, she was there. Always leaving the room as soon as I entered or watching me from a distance with an expression of deep distaste. Today, she wore a black sheath dress and muted makeup, and just like the last time she’d come to my room, she was carrying a dress. It was white and cottony.
“Really?” I asked. “Isn’t that a bit cliché?”
She shrugged. “Tradition is tradition.” She crossed the room and set it on the bed. “You’re supposed to change into that. Someone will come for you soon.”
“Did you know about all of this?” I asked her on impulse. “The ritual?”
Her mouth twisted in a parody of a smile. “I knew. I knew when I married Caleb. I’m a Raymond, you know.”
“As in Dr.Raymond?” I asked.
She nodded once. “The two families have been intermarrying since the beginning. It helps keep the bloodline from getting too diluted. I was raised to be Caleb’s wife, and I knew that I’d have to turn a blind eye to a few infidelities so that he could do his duty.”
“But he refused his inheritance,” I pointed out.
She shrugged. “He’s not the first Vaughan to suffer the delusion of being able to change anything. Eventually, he would have realized that there was no point in fighting fate.” She paused. “It wasn’t supposed to be Jessamine.”
“But if some other woman’s child died, that would have been fine,” I said bitterly.
She didn’t seem to hear me. “You know, I was really hoping you’d find a way to burn this whole place to the ground. Pity.” She smoothed the dress on the bed absently. “It won’t hurt. That’s what they say. For what it’s worth.”
“It isn’t worth much,” I replied. I hesitated. “Who else knew? About the girls?”
She gave me an amused look. “They all did, you little idiot. They’re told when they turn eighteen. I mean, Victoria kept Celia on the other side of the Atlantic for three years straight, Helen. It wasn’t because she couldn’t afford the airfare to come home for Christmas,” she said with a sneer.
“Then my mother...” My chest was like a vice.
Sandra’s eyes softened, just a bit. So slight it might have been my imagination. “She was always Leopold’s favorite. He couldn’t stand the thought of her thinking he was a monster. He made it clear she wasn’t supposed to know.” Then her gaze sharpened again. “That’s why you picked her, of course. She didn’t know what you were. She was easier to fool.”
“Or maybe I chose her because she’s a better person than any of you,” I said.
“I don’t see her here trying to save you,” Sandra snapped. “Get dressed. Someone will come for you soon.”
She strode out. I stared after her, a slight tension easing in my chest. Mom hadn’t known. She hadn’t been part of her family’s wickedness.
I went over to the dress and picked it up. It was shapeless and plain, and too short—it would barely hang to my knees.
Screw it. I wasn’t going to my death looking like a maiden in search of a flower crown. I tossed the dress aside and went to my wardrobe. I put on the gown Sandra had brought me for the birthday dinner—a green one, nearly the color of Bryony’s eyes. I showered quickly and did my hair up, and then I tried to remember what Celia had shown me with the makeup. I was about halfway through failing at it when Celia herself knocked on the door, then eased it open.
“Does everyone have a key to that door?” I asked as I emerged from the bathroom, mascara in hand.
“I never gave it back to Eli,” she said with a little blush. “You could run if you want.”
“I already came back.”
