Two girls. Two secrets.
Only one can survive.
Years before Nelle Wychthorn plans her escape, Tabitha Catt may unearth something in a Horned God's lair that is the key to freedom.
Desperate to save her beloved aunt from a dark curse, Tabitha is out t...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I continued storming forward, needing to find my father as quickly as the scorching wrath racing through my veins. Strong fingers grabbed hold of my arm and jerked me back. "Stop! You've got to c-calm down."
I whirled around to face Valarie, slapping her hand from me as I snarled, "Calm? How the fuck can I be calm? Dad shouldn't have done it. He shouldn't have screwed me over by arranging a union with Irma!"
Her braid swung over her shoulder as she took a quick step back. "There's no use going after Dad while you're so m-mad."
"Why the fuck not? He got me into this mess."
"B-Be smarter than this, Varen."
Smarter was for Valarie. The only smart I knew were my fists. They were the ones that did the negotiations for me.
"What about you, Val?" I cruelly taunted her, stepping closer to get right into her face. It was stupid and wrong but I wanted to lash out. It wasn't just me going down, she was too. "You think you have any control over your life?"
"I know I have absolutely none. If Byron doesn't want me, there'll be someone else Dad will arrange f-for me to marry," she snapped back, matching my surly scowl with one of her own. "Like you, it won't m-matter if I want them or not. There's no use fighting it. It is what it is. What it's always been like for us."
"I don't give a shit. I'm not doing it!"
Valarie hissed through clenched teeth. I guess she'd read me well enough to know that I was going to go after my father with my fists.
I spun sideways, bolting through an archway carved into the gallery's wall, and down a short hallway. I took the steps two at a time, my footfall echoing up a spiral staircase with candles lit in medieval scones and scattered light dusting the curved stone.
I reached the next floor and quickly stalked its length, drawing nearer to familiar voices coming from within our dining room: Sander and my father.
Memories, unbidden and unwanted, chased me. The memory of Gratian's infectious laugh ricocheted inside my mind. Laughter came easily to him, and the boisterous sound had often echoed down the hallways, or floated along inner balconies and stairwells, rippling outside when we strode along the ramparts. Gratian had brought vitality and life to our home. He also knew just how to appease our father when he was in one of his fucking shitty moods.
Addie had idolized Gratian, and right this minute she was doing to me what she'd always done to Gratian, slinking through the shadows, stalking me. I was aware she'd poked her head out from behind a floor-length tapestry. Her black hair with its textured ends reminded me of raven feathers, and they ruffled with the movement as she stared my way. It wasn't curiosity that scratched along my skin, but her blatant revulsion and the fierce flames of her hostility would have incinerated me if it was tangible.
She'd never voiced her loathing for me because she hadn't uttered a single word since Gratian's death, but her smoldering eyes spoke when her voice failed her.
