Page 81 of A Dance Macabre

My throat tightens, and I take a second before speaking, needing to make sure my voice won’t crack.

My dry laugh is full of condescension. “How do you know I won’t go to Wolfgang with this?”

There’s a pompous air to Dizzy, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s learned such arrogance from Wolfgang himself.

“Just a hunch,” she answers with a shrug.

Finally having enough of her grating attitude, I dismiss her. “Get out of my sight,” I bark.

The threat in my tone has the same effect as a dagger to her throat, and she winces. Her fear soothes my nerves somewhat.

She stands, and I don’t give her the courtesy of a single look.

“You know where to reach me. Just know I won’t wait forever,” she says solemnly.

Without another glance, she leaves.

I can’t tellhow much time has passed, but the longer I sit here in silence, the more it feels like the walls are closing in on me. I stand up abruptly and storm out of the drawing room.

Our conversation should not have rattled me like this. Moronic low-classpeasantthinking I would fall for her threats. She must think me a fool if she thinks I believe that she’ll stop at just Wolfgang.

The walls pulse around me as if sentient while I storm through the long corridor. I feel trapped. Deceived in my own house.

By the time I end up in the atrium, I’m breathing heavily through the nose like a raging bull, so worked up that I can barely think.

“Get out!” I yell at the few servants in the room setting up for dinner. It’s almost a shriek and I can barely recognize the sound of my own voice.

They all jolt in fear and then quickly scamper. I don’t wait for them to file out of the room before heading for the table and swiping my hands through fine china and crystal.

It all crashes to the floor, and the sound spurs me further into my spiral. By the time I’m done, the table is empty, and I’m standing amidst the shattered aftermath.

Broken pieces. Shards of glass.

My breathing is shallow. And I don’t feel remotely better.

Betrayal.

The word pulses over and over, slowly seeping into the blood in my veins, taking more and more space inside of me.

I can’t let it go.

Her offer.

It’s a loophole on a silver platter.

If I don’t take it—takeadvantageof it, Wolfgang surely will.

I would be naive to think I can trust anyone but myself. Wolfgang has said it before: The only reason he’s had a change of heart is because the godsdecreed it.

And now this.

Is this not a divine invitation?

Is this not fate calling my name?

I know that if I give Dizzy the go-ahead, Wolfgang’s death will not satiate her. She’ll come after me next, but I’ll deal with that pest later. As if she could ever touch me.

Pushing my hair off of my face, I straighten my dress and take a deep breath before stepping up to the large windows. The sun is setting over Pravitia, and I watch the dying rays refract against the tinted windows of skyscrapers, the water of the harbor twinkling orange in the distance.

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