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People looked at her like she was some sort of mutant freak. In all honesty, she felt like one too.
Since being brought back she hadn’t felt quite right. No matter how much she ate she never felt full, even if that glass of wine did seem to dampen the terrible feeling. Her skin was warm and clammy.
And something, someone else was living inside of her head.
They hadn’t spoken yet, but their presence was still thick. Like they were taking the time to observe her and she didn’t fucking like it.
Neither Sienna nor her parents had said anything that might confirm her suspicion that they were all being watched by the same dark thing that lurked in her mind. Yet, she knew she could learn a lot just by watching.
Ambrose remained almost identical to how Farah remembered her. Possibly better even. They weaved through the crowd who either stepped away from them or stretched to brush their fingers over them and whisper blessings. This was, after all, a blessing. No matter how her parents felt.
Though they’d found peace in death, there had been nothing but pain and chaos for Farah. Every terrible thing she’d ever done had been repeated upon her over and over again and when they finished they would carve the words into her soul before they began again.
“Something is wrong.” Farah took Ambrose’s hand in hers.
Her sister paused looking back with a knowing glow in her eyes. “Yes.”
“Then why are we pretending there isn’t. Why is Idalia still getting to make decisions for us without our input?”
They were moving again, swimming through a sea of people, still hand in hand. A nervous tremor zig-zagged down Farah’s spine. Every reaching hand had her cringing away, wishing to be hidden away once more. Too many eyes were cast upon her now, too many people whispered about the prettiest of the Havlock sisters.
Farah held Ambrose’s hand gently, afraid that she might break her with this new strength she had. The urge to go running from the room made her every movement tense. If one more person touched her…gods, she wanted to fight.
Even after being punished for all the innocent people she’d hurt, and even without her staff, that same desire for blood on her hands was there. She was stuck in a castle she was hardly familiar with, in a body that felt foreign, with little control, and the expectation of a great battle tomorrow.
What few men had served in and around Farah, Ambrose, and Sienna’s castles had been beckoned to join and they’d trickled in throughout the day with news that others were following not far behind. Would they come in time?
“To my understanding, she did what she thought was best and gave us all eternal life.” Ambrose chewed at her cheek.
“At what cost?”
Those bouncy, beautiful curls swayed at Ambrose’s shoulder. Her head tipped to one side in thought. Or…was she listening to the voices in her head?
“I have the hunch that we may find out soon. If we live through tomorrow, that is.” Ambrose paused, standing on her toes. “It doesn’t make any sense. Why would Burke just… leave?”
“I thought you hated him.”
It was unsettling to look into the shifting color of Ambrose’s eyes. The same eyes she knew she now wore. Gone were the rarity of her green eyes, though she was thankful for at least one thing that made her stand out from her sisters.
“I did.”
Did she just flinch?
“Ambrose, we will find him,” Farah tried to encourage. Now she was scanning every corner and shadow people were tucking themselves away in, searching for the face she remembered. Even if Ambrose no longer hated him, Farah still held onto the heavy feeling of distaste that came with his name. He’d broken Ambrose’s heart after all.
Tall and dark haired, a man aimed for them, pushing past citizens holding sloshing cups of liquor. Farah cocked her head. This man… she did not know.
The fingers intertwined with hers squeezed tightly. Ambrose knew him.
“Please,” he said breathlessly, “please talk to me.”
“Ephram.”
Ephram. He was dressed just as fine as everyone else but his shirt was half untucked and his jacket disheveled on his shoulders. Black strands of hair that could have once been slicked back dangled into his blue-silver gaze.
“Do you want him to leave?” Farah’s hand clenched tightly. The perfect person to knock down if Ambrose wished it.
“Yes,” Ambrose hissed, “But no.” She looked up at the man’s forlorn face. “You need to leave. It isn’t safe for you to be here anymore. If my mother—if—Ephram, I won’t be able to save you.”
