Valiant {Book Two of the Incandescent Trilogy}

Chapter Eighteen: Ceremony Interuppted

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: CEREMONY INTERUPPTED

"So?" said Amelia, stepping out of the room, and giving a spin. "What do you think?"

The youngest Watson stood in doorway, one hand gripping her shoulder, and her head ducked. Her mess of dark hair had been curled and pulled to the side, and the red lipstick she used to wear so very often once again painted her lips. The neckline of her dress plunged as far as it could without being immodest, adorned in metallic sequins he had heard her call gaudy before flaring out into light navy fabric that fell down to her ankles. She adorned no jewellery save for the ring Sherlock had given her hanging from a silver chain around her neck.

Sherlock glanced up from his book, rendered speechless as he met her nervous gaze. She shifted in the spot. "Well?" she asked. "Don't tell me I've rendered you speechless."

"I am afraid you have," Sherlock said, setting his book down on the table. "I daresay there are few words I could summon to describe what it is I wish to say." He cleared his throat. "You will be able to..."

"Possibly kill someone?" she asked. "In this dress? Yes, I suppose I will be able to. You will need to lock the door to the balcony behind me, we wouldn't want anyone coming after me, now would we? If they want to go after Mary, they'll have to do it at close range which should give me enough time to..." She swore, pinching the bridge of her nose as she cut herself off. "God, I thought I'd left this life behind." The words fell from her lips in a whisper, her horror stealing any ounce of confidence in her skills that she had possessed moments before.

She despised thinking of the person she had been before. The person James had manipulated her into a weapon that only he could wield, and his favourite means of destruction. She had almost revelled in her power, if only to be less affected by the terrible things she'd been made to do. She had convinced herself that if she enjoyed following James' orders, then she was doing what she did of her own free will. It was only when she finally managed to escape the man who had been such an integral part of her life for such a long period of time.

He had taken everything from her, including her free will. He had convinced her that everything she had done was to benefit herself, that every decision she made, she made on her own. It had taken her such a long time to realise that none of this had been true, and it had taken even longer for her to stop blaming herself for what she had done. The man bled lies and fantasies, exuded charm and flattery—his manipulation was an extension of him, and it was for this very reason that she had been unable to separate him from his actions.

He'd had her so convinced, so certain that she wanted to stay, wanted to be with him, even after what he had made her do to Jackson.

And Amelia, in an effort to not face the horror that her life had become, had made herself blind to his manipulations. She had thrown herself into her...assignments, losing herself in her work, in her relationships, if only to keep herself from lingering in the present.

Something, she was guilty of doing at the present moment.

"You are doing it for the right reasons," he said in an attempt to reassure her.

His words had the opposite intended effect, only driving the point she had just realised home. She had told herself she'd been doing it for the right reasons, then. That she killed her targets to protect them from James' wrath, knowing that whatever he had in store would be a hundred times worse. That she played God to protect those she believed deserved justice, and damning those who had crossed her.

Her gaze fell to the ground, mentally tracing the hem of her dress to keep herself from overthinking any further. "That is not the point," she said, letting out a breath, "but this is my cross to bear. Of that, I am aware. After all, what is one more life compared to the countless I've already stolen? There is blood on my hands, blood I can never wash off. I hardly think it matters if another soul joins the fray."