Page 50 of Mostly Shattered

Chester appears slightly annoyed, but beyond that, I don’t think he cares either way. Marriage to me would be an inconvenience to him at most. I have a feeling that the alliance is to get his family off his back so that he can continue to live the life he wants.

“Can it be fixed?” Mortimer asks the wizard as he tries to blot the ink with his sleeve.

“No,” Zephronis states. It’s the first time I’ve heard him speak. The deep voice commands attention. “The magic must be pure. Have the documents redrawn. This will have to wait for another night.”

Mortimer takes the quill from me with an angry jerk. “I’ll call the lawyers.”

My arm and hand still tingle, and I realize the wizard must have sent the magic up my arm to make me spill the ink. I look at him questioningly, but don’t call him out in front of the family. I want to tell him how grateful I am for his intervention.

“This changes nothing,” Astrid says. “We’ll still go forward with the wedding plans. We have much to discuss tonight.”

Zephronis takes up my hand and touches my palm. The magical buzzing stops as if he’s pulling his magic back into his fingers. Calmly, he tells me, “Fate cannot be changed.”

That’s the beginning of the prophecy.

“That’s right,” Mortimer agrees, not understanding the message. “As the man said, fate will not be undone, and the joining of these two families is fate. This is but a delay.”

Zephronis doesn’t correct my uncle’s interpretation of his words.

“Maybe it’s a sign that we revisit the number of grandchildren,” Mabel puts forth. I ignore her. I can’t deal with that problem right now.

“I’m agreeable,” Chester oozes.

Gag.

I definitely need to ignore him too.

“You know?” I whisper to the wizard.

He pushes my fingers, curling them into a fist before giving me a light tap.

“You’ve got ink on your gown,” Astrid states. “You’re excused to return to your room to change your clothes. I’ll tell the chef we’re ready to dine.”

I step back from the podium. Zephronis snaps his fingers. The quill and ink disappear.

My eyes remained fixed on Zephronis. His glowing purple gaze keeps steadily on mine. There’s so much I want to ask him, but he shakes his headslightly and turns away. Saying nothing, he shuffles out of the room toward the kitchen.

“Tamara, your gown,” Astrid insists.

“Yes.” I turn to leave, grateful for the excuse. I don’t bother to say anything to anyone else as I hurry toward my room. As I walk, I pull the high heels from my feet, silencing their clicking on the marble. I run the rest of the way barefoot.

Chapter

Twelve

As soon as I step into my bedroom, I sag against the door, my body still buzzing with the adrenaline of my near escape. That was too close. A shiver of revulsion ripples down my spine as I think of Chester’s face, his greasy smile, his disgusting attempts to control me before our engagement even officially starts.

I escaped this time. But what about next time?

The weight of the unsigned betrothal agreement presses on me like a giant anvil. I won’t be a pawn in their elitist games. Marrying Chester? Living my life shackled to that self-righteous, power-hungry family?

Tears threaten. I can’t do it.

But could I live with the alternative?

I know which road I’ll take if Imust choose between prophecy and premonition. At least with Costin, I have a chance to fight back. To choose my fate.

I jerk the tiara off my head and toss it toward the bed. The bracelet soon follows.

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