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“You aren’t even a witch!” he yelled, his body shaking. “You have no power beyond driving me to the fucking edge of insanity.”
I tried to hit him again, but he held me too tight, so I did the only thing I could to escape him—stab him in the heart. I shoved my hands against his chest and released my blade. The second it pierced his skin, he let me go, and I watched his blood darken the fabric of his tunic.
“Fuck you,” I said.
This time when I left, he did not follow.
***
I raced upstairs and slammed my door shut. I could not contain my anger, so I let it rage. Books and candles flew, and I tore tapestries off the wall and my blankets from my bed. I threw jewelry and ripped my dresses from the shelves of my armoire. I was so careless in my frenzy, I froze in horror as my carved music box fell to the floor.
“No, no, no,” I said, kneeling to pick it up. As I did, pieces of mother of pearl and wood chips were left on the ground, and the music it once played—a lullaby my mother had sung—sounded off-key and ruined.
“No,” I cried harder, hugging the box to my chest.
This had been a gift from my father, and while that relationship had withered away, this—this gave me some connection to my mother, and I had destroyed it.
I wallowed in my sadness upon the floor, clutching my music box, and did not move until I heard a faint and muffled laugh.
It was light and pretty, and it only fed my fury.
Ravena.
I crossed the room and turned my mirror around, only to see my own reflection staring back, and it took the fight out of me. I rested the mirror against the wall and slid to my floor. There, I drew my legs to my chest, hugging them tightly, and sobbed.
I did not even look up when my door opened, or when Ana knelt beside me and drew me into her arms.
“Shh,” she soothed, smoothing her hand over my hair.
“I hate him,” I said. “I hate him, and I love him.”
“Let’s not speak of it now,” she said.
So I didn’t.
Instead, I cried until I couldn’t shed tears any longer, and by the time I sat up, my face was swollen and a little painful.
Ana reached forward, brushing away the strands of my hair that stuck to my tear-stained face.
“I am so tired,” I said. “And I know that is not fair because you have lived this life longer than me…but I can’t—” My voice faltered.
“You do not have to have lived a hundred years or even twenty. If your soul is tired, you will be tired.”
A few stray tears fell down my cheeks.
“He has invited a witch-hunter into our home,” I said.
I almost could not stand how Ana looked at me, as if she pitied my heartbreak.
“I know how you feel,” she said. “I am afraid, too, but I also know why Adrian allowed Solaris to stay.”
I rubbed my eyes harder, to the point that they hurt. I did not want to hear reason. I knew the reason, and I despised that it had to be this way.
“If he does not quell the hysteria…we are in even more danger,” she said.
“I am in no danger,” I said, swallowing hard. “As your cousin so graciously reminded me earlier, I have no magic.”
“Do you really believe that?”
