Page 126 of Their Blood Rite

‘Do you care?’

He pulls me harshly into him so our fronts are pressed together.

‘I care if you’re considering sneaking off to speak to your friend.’

‘I wasn’t.’

‘Sure about that?’

‘Positive.’

‘I can’t wait to be alone with you, Pixie. Your performance with the king has most certainly earned you some satisfaction.’

‘Is that so?’ I smile. ‘Perhaps I should argue with royalty more often.’

‘As long as you’re not arguing with me, I don’t mind.’

As we dance, a dull ringing begins in my ears. The more he spins me, the higher pitched it becomes.

‘I think the wine has gone to my head,’ I tell him. He slows, looking down at me. ‘It’s giving me a headache.’

‘A classic excuse, I’ll give you that.’

‘No. Really.’ I stop, the pain growing as well as the volume. A constanteeeeeeeeeeesounding in my head. ‘I’m not feeling too good.’

‘Look at me.’ He lifts my chin to see my eyes better.

My vision shifts out of focus.

‘I think someone put something in my wine.’ I grip him tighter as the room sways. ‘Can we go…’ My words fade as something behind him, amongst the blurred and shifting court members that dance with one another, comes slowly into view. ‘Shaw…’ I whisper.

‘What?’ he turns to look.

But I know he won’t see what I’m looking at.

The naked woman is covered head to toe in cuts. Her blood, both dried and dripping, smothering her body. It’s the woman from the mirror. The woman I see often, but never so solid. Never so clear.

‘I’m seeing a dead woman.’

My fingers dig into him as I hear rasped and laboured breathing in my ear. The last gasps of a dying woman.

I turn. She grabs my head, and that high-pitched ringing turns into a vicious scream that deafens me.

Chapter 18

‘Ashe. Ashe, can you hear me?’ I feel a light tap on my cheek and blink open my eyes. Shaw is leaning over me with a worried frown. When he sees me open my eyes, he sighs in relief. ‘You okay? You passed out.’

His eyes dart left. Beside him, soldiers linger.

‘Apologies,’ I groan. ‘The wine went straight to my head.’

Shaw helps me to sit. We’re no longer in the grand hall but in what looks like a library.

‘Take it slow.’ Shaw steadies me as I sit. ‘There’s no rush.’

I wince as the high-pitched ringing continues. Behind the shoulder of a soldier, a teenage girl lingers. Her throat slit wide and her nightgown torn. She stares absentmindedly into the distance before flickering out of sight.

‘Shit,’ I whisper, lowering my head, allowing Shaw to slowly rub circles over my back. I rest my hands over my ears as she whispers in my ear. I know if I look up, she’ll be there, close enough to see the rip in her flesh and to feel her breath, if she had any.

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