Page 72 of Violet Legacy

No. Dante had promised nothing—had told her not to give him any human emotions or tendencies. But like a fool, she had ignored the warning, hoping she was different. Something in her shattered—something so small and fragile, she had not realized it had begun to grow until it had been broken into thousands of fragments, like shattered glass.

Her heart.

A slow numbness threatened to take over. When was she going to learn? She was always the second choice. First Lilian, and now Dante.

“You see the truth now. You are nothing but a tool to get what Dante wants. The tomb and all its treasure,” Idris whispered.

Each word was like a paper cut on her fragile soul.

“To be the Atlantean responsible for finding the lost monarchy. That is something even Dante can’t, and won’t, say no to.”

His voice made her skin crawl, but it was nothing compared to the rage that chased the numbness, the desire to burn everything in her path.

“Something to be used and thrown away. You only have one friend to mourn you, and then you will be forgotten. Barely a footnote in our history,” Idris finished. “But your lineage will live on. The O’hurani will rise again and remake this world.”

“And if I don’t want to help you?”

Idris moved suddenly. A hard grip around her throat as she was effortlessly lifted into the air. She kicked out, channeling all her rage and emotion into her survival, trying to dislodge Idris’s grip to make room for her to breathe. She would not die now.

Idris looked down at her arm. His eyes widened in recognition; a reverent look crossed his features.

Using all her strength, she slammed her elbow into Idris’s face. Bone smashing cartilage.

He didn’t move. Pure white-hot fire burned through her, setting every nerve alight as the world around her slowed down. Idris finally dropped her.

For a split second, she thought it was because of her. Then she saw it. Bright violet light danced around the statue, consuming it from the inside out.

The pendant she had left on Vandana appeared untouched as it pulsed in time with the bracelet.

The marble tear was now tinged red.

She fell next to the small coffin. Every part of her body screamed in protest at the contact with the hard ground. She scrambled to her knees. Faint engravings materialized on the side of the coffin. She almost stumbled as she recognized one of the images. A lily.

“Bloodline of the O’hurani. King of the Anki,” Idris whispered. “It is tainted, but it is viable and can be used for the resurrection. It appears you are still needed,” Idris said.

She wasn’t sure who he was talking to, but it wasn’t her. Idris had a faraway look in his eyes, as if he was lost to an old, painful memory.

Rieka was assaulted by the near-intoxicating scent of death and decay that instantaneously surrounded her. Sharp talons scratched at the marble behind her. Cautiously looking over her shoulder, she glared at gargantuan paw that was now eye level with her. Serpopard. She turned her attention back to Idris; it was too much to think she had hallucinated the monsters.

The cold marble dug into her back as she tried to stay as still as possible. The blaster was just out of her reach. Even if she went for it, she would be too slow compared to Idris and the oversized cat watching her.

Think, Sinha.

Realizing that she was always the second choice was heartbreaking, but it made her acknowledge that she didn’t need anyone to save her.She had been saving herself her entire life; she just hadn’t known it.

Idris needed her alive.

The bracelet continued to burrow within her. The metal arms dug into her, burying themselves within her flesh, twisting around veins and bone, becoming a part of her. The electrical jolts were coming harder and faster than before. Rieka grimaced as she cradled her arm.

Idris stood transfixed by the dancing flames that continued to engulf the statue.

Rieka gradually removed the blade from her boot. She was only going to have one chance. Delacroix had better not have lied about the dangers of the knives.

It was now or never.

Idris moved. His face was inches away from Rieka’s, a murderous snarl across his face.

Rieka brought the knife toward Idris and used all her strength to strike him. The knife slipped through his flesh, slicing through tendons as blood spurted everywhere.

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