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"It's not your fault, Lydia." I give her a faint smile. "Can you help me now?"
She nods. "My mentor did his thesis on the breaking of a blood debt. He was fascinated by the idea, so I am your best bet to see you through this. I won't question your decision, but I will swear a blood oath."
"I'll trust you not to say anything to anyone," I tell her.
She shakes her head. "For your safety, I insist."
Tony returns, almost as if he sensed our conversation was over. I've never sworn a blood oath, but I've seen a few being sworn, and as Lydia swears on her life and her blood to keep my secret,the magic of our animals binding her words to her soul, I feel a sense of relief.
This is all going to be over soon.
Laying down on the couch, I watch Lydia take out the injection filled with liquid wolfsbane.
My lips press together, not an ounce of fear within me as she approaches me. My hand goes to my stomach.
May we remain together in this life, little one.
Whether it's a prayer or a wish, I don't know. But as I close my eyes, the wolfsbane taking its effect on me, I truly hope I get to live a life of peace and happiness with my child.
CHAPTER 20
Cynthia
Four years later
"Riya," I call out as I wander through the apartment looking for a three-year-old who enjoys playing hide and seek a little too much.
"Riya, if you don't come out right now," I begin, "I'm going to eat all your pancakes and drink the entire bottle of maple syrup. Just you wait. And I won't let Auntie Maya babysit you this weekend."
My sharp ears pick up an outraged gasp from the laundry room, and I head over there, just in time to see a dark-haired little girl duck behind the washing machine. Grabbing her by the back of her dress, I pull her out.
"Not smart, kid. Not smart at all."
"I don't want to go to school!" Riya looks up at me, her lower lip stuck out in a pout, the gray eyes she inherited from her father, annoyed.
"First of all," I pick her up in my arms, "it's not school. It's preschool. And you're supposed to make friends with kids your age."
"They're all dumb," Riya complains, her arms around my neck as I carry her to the kitchen table.
"Well," I sit her down in the chair, "maybe if you gave them a chance and didn't brag about all the books you can read they won't feel dumb to you."
"Uncle Tony says kids my age should be able to read and write," my daughter parrots.
"Well, Uncle Tony needs a hobby." I pull up a chair next to her and smile. "Give the kids a chance, Riya. They're not mean to you, are they?"
"No," my daughter admits sulkily.
"Have they tried to be friends with you?"
"Yeah." Her voice grows smaller.
"Then are we being the bully here?"
She looks ashamed of herself now. "Sorry."
I cut up her pancake and feed her a bite. "It's good to learn all these things about reading and writing, but that doesn't mean you have to be mean to the other kids. Just as all the things that Uncle Tony is teaching you are fun, so is playing with kids your age."
"Okay, Mommy." Riya nods, giving me a serious look.
