Page 21 of Point of No Return

I’m surprised when I feel his finger skimming over the skin. I almost jerk at the touch-almost. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s definitely not cold enough in the room to explain the goosebumps that spread over me. I focus straight ahead, my eyes focused.

“He’s dead.”

Skar’s touch is gone after a moment, and I’m surprised enough at his admission that my eyes meet his.

The Prevyain from the races. The man I killed.

My gut sinks as I ask the question I already know the answer to: “How did he die?”

His eyes narrow just slightly, and he’s still frowning when he speaks. “I think the better question is, what did he want?”

I wait for him to continue further, but like usual, I have to let go of my pride and practically beg for answers. Which he must know I despise because he smiles. Just the slightest bit.

“What did he want?” I don’t bother hiding my glare.

“My brother.” I look over his face for any sign of not giving up this information as freely as it seems. “My father. Me. We don’t know for sure.”

“So… how long until it happens again?” It’s a challenge and a question all in one.

“Never. If we can help it.”

I shake my head. “Even Benenatis can’t promise that.”

He shrugs, finality and indifference in his tone. “You’ll be one soon enough.”

My throat feels tight.

Becoming a Benenati. There’s no stopping it. No changing it. I am taking the name of the enemy.And god knows what else will be expected of me.

“A Prevyain with the name of a Westlan.” The thought nearly makes me laugh. “Never thought I’d live to see the day.” He doesn’t say anything but when his eyes land on my tattoos again, I pull the straps of my shirt back over my shoulder. Anger is a quiet, bitter thing in my gut. “What does any of this have to do with Prevyains?”

It seems he expects the question, but from the look on his face, he doesn’t look inclined to give me an answer anytime soon. Only silence. Leaving me in the same place that I started.

“I’ll see you at lunch tomorrow.” I leave, and I don’t look back to see if he’s still staring as I go.

Chapter Twelve

Charlotte

The white wedding dress is absolutely horrendous. It’s the worst mix of fluffy tulle and soft silk I’ve ever laid my eyes on. The shop’s mirrored walls reflect three different angles of the dress back at me. The full ball gown is decorated with a heavy beaded overlay and the lace sleeves and slim silk top are covered in pearls. Red and golden ribbons are hidden beneath the sash- each etched with the same traditional Westlan wedding vows:Two souls, two journeys, joined as one.

It could be beautiful if it wasn’t all a farce.

The seamstress adjusts the hemline, stabbing into my legs with a needle.

“Sorry,” she winces just as my mother comes into view behind me. Liv stands beside her, blonde hair decorated with a red ribbon at the crown of her head.

“You look thin... Possibly even pretty,” my mother sighs but circles me like a vulture circling prey.

“What do you think, bride-to-be?” Liv smiles, and I look at myself in the mirror again. I look more like a birthday cake than a bride, but maybe that’s the point. Dress anything up enough, and you forget what’s underneath.

Another needle pinches my leg, and I glance down at the seamstress again. She’s practically shaking, trying not to meet my mother’s eye.

Poor girl.

“Well, it’s too late to change anything now,” I say.

“Sorry we couldn’t find anything more like what you wanted. The shop seems to be… out of stock,” Liv’s eyes flash at mine in the mirror.

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