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A balance is yet to come due, and in the end, it will cost us both our lives.

We’ve been avoiding this reality, but now it hovers over us like a dark storm we can’t escape. My nightmares are increasing, the clock of doom flickering in my subconscious, an ever-present reminder that my time is limited.

There’s a part of me that wants to trust Azrael, to believe in what he says. When I look at him now, noting the anguish on his face, I can feel his pain. How he, too, is torn by this curse.

I have always believed in Elizabeth. I have always felt it was my duty to remember what was done to her. But for the first time in my life, I find myself questioning the bigger picture. The reason behind the curse. Even if she didn’t intend it to be so, she has cursed every chosen Wildblood woman with the hastily spoken words she uttered before her death.

Centuries later, we continue to die. And for what?

It was easier to believe in the sacrifice when I hated Azrael Delacroix. But every time I see him now, that hate transforms into something else. It’s been slowly ebbing away with every kiss, every stolen touch, every moment I spend in his presence, realizing he isn’t at all who I thought he was. Instead of being satisfied with the knowledge that we both will die, one from each family, to balance the wound inflicted, all I feel is inexplicable sadness.

I don’t want to die.

But I don’t want him to die, either.

It’s a bitter truth to swallow when it’s all I ever thought about before I married him. I thought it would somehow put my spirit to rest in my grave, knowing that he, too, would be gone from this world.

Now, the idea makes my chest painfully tight.

“Try to get some sleep,” he murmurs, showing me his back as he returns to the door.

I swallow, eyes blurring with unshed tears. I can’t bring myself to speak before he takes his leave. But I feel the loss of him. I feel his absence like a cold chill in the air around me.

Feeling my discomfort, Fiona settles on me, purring as I close my eyes and try to sleep. But sleep doesn’t come. Instead, it’s Elizabeth’s voice that arrives, louder than it’s ever been.

There are two paths before you, Willow. Listen, and your heart will guide you.

I let those words rattle around my brain, unsettled by the strange sentimentality in her voice. She’s only ever been cautious. Serious. But right now, she’s telling me to follow my heart, and my heart is telling me that there are enough enemies around me. I don’t need to make one of Azrael too.

I want to trust him, but can I?

I glance up at Fiona, and she returns my gaze with judgment in hers.

“Typical of you,” I mutter.

Seeming to predict my next move, she abandons me for Azrael’s side of the bed, leaving me to get up. I don’t bother with a robe tonight as I head for the door in my black silk nightgown. I don’t really care if Salomé sees me at this point.

Her light is on again as I walk down the hall, but I don’t hear anything from her room. I wonder what it is she does in there, then I wonder if I could ever sneak in to snoop around without getting caught.

Bec’s light is off tonight, and I hope she’s getting some rest for her sake. I noticed she looked weaker than usual today, and I’m truly worried for her.

I take the stairs slowly, pausing when I hear the sound of a door creeping open on the second floor. It sounds like it must be Salomé’s room. Light footsteps echo down the hall, and I linger in the darkness as I hear another door open. This time, I’m fairly certain it’s Bec’s. I wonder what purpose Salomé would have for going into her room in the middle of the night when Bec is surely asleep.

Something keeps me rooted to the spot, and I listen for anything out of place, but everything is quiet. Yet, I can’t deny this strange feeling in my gut. It isn’t just my dislike for Salomé. Something isn’t right here, in this house… in her orbit.

She’s the darkness in this place. She’s the one sucking the very life from it. I don’t doubt she’ll happily dance on my grave once I’m gone, but I can’t help wondering about her intentions. She’s so eager to be rid of me, to see me dead, when she knows history has dictated it will happen in due time regardless.

What is her hurry?

With that thought in mind, I close my eyes and ask Mother Goddess to protect the good in this house from evil—to protect us from her. Then, I slowly continue my descent, winding my way through the house until I’m back in the library.

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