Page 26 of Point of No Return

Charlotte

The kill is never the hard part. I know what I have to do. I’ve trained for it. I spent years hidden away within the walls of my childhood home in Prevya. Brutal years spent training for a war that raged between two lands for decades.The kill is the easy part. The aftershock is always the hardest. But there is no stopping the storm that’s coming. It’s bigger than me or my family… and far bigger than Prevya or Westos.

“What are you?” my mother’s voice floated toward me from behind.

Blood dribbled down my neck, and my ears still rang from the blow she had delivered. With shaky hands, I swiped at my ears. Everything was red. Bloody and red. I felt so close to hurling. My muscles were already so weak, my head spinning. I hadn’t realized I collapsed until I heard my mother’s shrill voice from above me, all-too-loud.

“What are you?”

“Prevyain,” I answered, my voice foreign, quiet.

Somewhere distant, I could hear that she was moving toward me again, but I was too weak to see what she was doing. She squatted down, wrinkling her plum colored dress.I hate the color, I remember thinking as her hands came around my face.

She smeared the blood away, forcing me to look at her. “What are you, Lottie?”

“I don’t… know.” I sobbed, but she tugged my ear again. Pain shuttered through me. Tears threatened to spill from my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

I will not break.

“You know what you are,” my mother said quietly. She was stroking my face, absently smudging my hair back as I stared at the mess of my blood on the ground. “You are whatever they want you to be.”

Sweat clings to me. I yank the covers down, desperate to feel the cold air against my skin. Even though it was years ago, I can still feel the dull ache in my skull. My ears still ring- and ultimately, my hearing is my only real weakness. If someone comes up on my right side, I rarely hear them. Though it has yet to cost me yet, I’m still aware of it.

In the low morning light, I can just barely make out the shape of my vanity in the corner… The sofa overflowing with pillows and fluffy blankets. The trunk of clothes I have yet to finish unpacking. It’s the last thing I have that is my own. The one thing I have to remind myself that this isn’t going to last.

The dinner at the Belmont last night left me feeling no closer to finding out any information on the Benenatis. Most of the talk was ambiguous, but the upscale restaurant proved to bethemeeting spot for the well-to-do. Every table was teeming with expensive suits and overpriced silver platters of food.

I stir when I hear a knock at the door. Turning onto my side, I feign sleep as the door opens, and Josie steps inside. I squint, wiping sleep from my eyes as I sit upwards. She throws open the curtains, and it’s then that I spot the cutesy white dress in her arms.

Shit.

“G’morning,” she greets. “The photographers will be here in an hour. Thought I’d let you sleep in today.”

Stepping out of bed, I shake off my hands, trying to ignore the layer of sweat coating me. I follow as she leads the way toward the bathroom.

There are jars of fruit-scented bath salts in one of the many cupboards, and she makes quick-work of scooping a sweet mix into the shower before turning it on. Steam pours into the room, and she disappears back into the bedroom with the dress- likely digging around in my armoire for accessories as I undress.

Under the cover of fog, I allow myself to relax. The hot water runs over me, soothing the tension already building in my muscles.

Today will be hard enough considering Skar and I hardly know anything about each other. Not to mention, we haven’t discussed a cover story. Coming up with answers on the spot has never been a problem for me, but that didn’t stop me from rehearsing before bed last night. Especially since with Skar’s track-record, I’m going to be the one talking.

“Would you like help?” I hear Josie’s voice close by.

“No.” My answer is immediate, and I add: “Thank you. I think I’d like breakfast in my room today.”

She hesitates, quiet for long enough that I look over my shoulder at her. She’s at the counter, seemingly folding the clothes I wore to bed, but I catch her glancing at the bottles and brushes I have arranged at the mirrored vanity.

Most of them really are the ointments and lotions they’re labeled as. Makeup brushes, bottled perfumes, and a brand new lipstick from my mother. Josie won’t find anything. My mother is smart enough not to hide something so visible among the collection. What she’d hidden is something likely of the more potent variety. Untraceable. Deadly. Prevyain.

I grab shampoo from one of the shelves, purposefully dropping it after lathering my hair in it. She doesn’t startle, but she glances my way as if gauging whether or not I caught her snooping.

“Of course. I’ll bring food right up.”

When she disappears, I make it a point to wash up and towel off before she returns to help me dress. With a fresh tray full of food, paired with a steaming mug of coffee, she sits me down at the vanity while I eat.

She begins styling my hair, creating a crown of hair at the front and untucking a few curls to frame my face. The rest she leaves down. The brown locks dangle in delicate tendrils down my back, and after brushing on a layer of makeup, I look half the part of an heiress. Fully the part of a liar.

Then comes the dress.

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