Page 90 of Feathers From the Sky

Treasure. A wooden chest has fallen apart, and the floor beneath me is covered in silver coins. A golden arm band lies on top of it. I wonder if part of this is Ansi's cursed treasure. It’s not very much, but it looks old. I wonder how much it would be worth now, and why he'd bother keeping it in this form. Even a few centuries ago, when he'd chosen to Slumber and all he'd had was this hollowed-out stone and a promise of protection from my father, had he prioritized resting with it? Or had my father kept it elsewhere until his obelisk was finished?

It doesn't matter.

I lower myself to the ground and stick my head through the hole. When my flashlight illuminates nothing more than treasure and impenetrable darkness, I take a deep breath and adjust before lowering myself into it. The flashlight is shoved safely into my pants as I dangle from the dungeon floor. Emile's command pushes at the edges of my senses for only a moment, but then I let my mind wander to the likelihood of Agnarr waking and pouncing on me. With a swiftness I find almost comical, the command loosens. Self-actualizing my escape by believing so much in my likely failure is an interesting experiment in the limit of our abilities.

I drop, careful to make as little noise as possible when I land on the spilled coins. Pulling out my flashlight once more, I look around. This is a small chamber full of treasure, and there's a long hall—if you could call it anything other than a tunnel—attached to it. Listening as intently as I can, I hear nothing as I creep toward it. Maybe I'll get lucky and the elevator will be at the end of this long, dark tunnel, and Agnarr will be asleep in another chamber.

No such luck.

I drop my flashlight to my side when I see a glow past the tunnel's edge. And then I hear a strange sound. Repetitive, it almost sounds like a hiss before it stops. When it repeats, I briefly wonder if what I hear is a snore. It's such a ridiculous idea, I nearly laugh. But then there's a pause in the noises, and I distinctly hear the smack of someone's lips. Gently, I bend, putting the flashlight on the ground and snuffing the light; I don't dare switch it off. When the sounds begin again, I put one foot in front of the other and step around the corner. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, but my stomach drops out at what I see.

Across the giant chamber, there's a blinding white rectangle of light. It takes a moment to place it as my father's elevator, held open by something on the ground. It illuminates the room despite its size, and there, in the center of the chamber, is the largest bed I've ever seen.

Its occupant is neither asleep nor alone.

Draining the blood of a woman I recognize, Agnarr is certainly awake. Sitting up, his ice blond hair is tangled, and I can't see where it ends. I don't know what she's doing down here, and it's only one more reason to hate her. She's woken Agnarr, and even if it cost Kathleen her life, it's just one more fucking way she's betrayed me. Him being awake has fucked me. She doesn't fight him as he drinks, and I wonder if she's already dead.

If that's the case, I might be fucked. Once he's through with her, he'll certainly scent me and kill me, too. I've only got one shot, and if the elevator requires a passcode to make it rise, I'm dead.

My eyes leave the elevator as she stirs in his arms and he caresses her long auburn hair. And then Kathleen's body starts to seize. Rooted to the spot, I watch a woman I once loved die. But it's not Kathleen's soft sighs and quiet laughter I hear in my mind. It's not green eyes I see, but honey—warm and inviting. And it's not her smile I imagine dimming, but Gwyn's. All sense of self-preservation leaves me, and I sprint into the elevator, moving as fast as I can. Kicking over the heavy vase holding the door, I slam into the back wall. Just as the elevator closes, there's a loud slamming, and I watch in horror as the metal dents inward. I leap to the panel with the buttons, and I don't have time to be relieved it doesn't require a code. I press the only one which will take me away from the monster beating against the other side of the door.

When it finally moves, I allow myself to breathe. The banging stops, and I sag against the wall.

It's only then I notice the faint, bloody footprints on the ground, tracked in by Kathleen.

The blood smells of my father.

33

GWYN

I can’t stop shakingas I look down at the hot blood on my hands, thick and crimson. Vile, relief and repulsion rip through my system. I'm in shock I went through with it. I'd nearly considered forgetting everything. I really thought I could have done things differently. When I'd waited for Roman's response in the cemetery, I'd been hopeful I could trust him. I'd wanted to tell him everything, let him help me find a different way to do this. Fuck all the planning, all the scheming, all the enchantments, all the lies.

All the sacrifices.

I'd thought perhaps he would bewithme, and I'd been so relieved to have someone to rely on who wouldn’t be bound to it. Not Sasha or Hale, but someone who would have chosen me. Who could have loved me despite what I needed to do. Someone who loves me, even now, while he's unaware his father's blood grows sticky on my hands.

He will know no greater betrayal than this.

What I've done is brutal. Monstrous. But I cannot be blamed for what they've made me into. Can I?

Each moment which pushed me toward this has been fraught with indecision and fear. When Bjorn had thrown me into his office while he prepared for his little ceremony, I'd heard Roman's words over and over again. He loved me, he loved me,he loved me. It's not enough. They'd all loved me too, hadn't they? I'd paced the room, not bothering to look for a way to get me out of this. All I could imagine was Roman's tortured expression as he'd screamed for me in the dark. Rationalizing it, I'd decided I had no choice anymore.

Either I die and nothing happens, or I do what I came here to do in the first place. Dead to Roman doesn't feel much better, but it's too late. He'd been too late.

By the time Bjorn came to fetch me, my tears had dried, and I'd held my head high as we'd made our way into the ballroom. He'd dragged me down an aisle between tables set for a feast. I think he was disappointed I didn't fight it. I hadn't forced him to pull me by the hair or yank me by the arm. Despite my fear, I’d walked calmly beside him, chin up, while his fingertips created indents in my bicep. When my eyes eventually found Margot's, I had been met with a tilt of the head and a frown. My heart had raced, and I'd finally considered what might happen if I failed.

I can’t regret what I’ve done. I clench my fists, watching the blood squish out between my fingers.

I can’t regret commanding Bjorn to let go of me, using the blood vow he'd sworn when he drank from me that very first day. He'd been stunned. Eyes wide, he had stumbled away from me. He hadn't been able to speak as every person in the ballroom stood frozen. I wonder if it was the same look my babysitter had given before she died. I'm sure she was equally surprised when one of Bjorn’s henchmen snapped her neck while she waited for my father to come home from a shift. I had always hoped she didn't see it coming. Perhaps it was my father who wore that expression when he came home too late to save her, but soon enough to blast the vampire's stomach out with a silver loaded shotgun. I'm surehewas shocked when my father cut off his head.

I couldn’t regret commanding all those sworn to me, as gasps and harsh whispers echoed throughout the room. Every person whose tongue has tasted my blood before I Ascended is still held in my thrall. And when those who hadn't drunk from me raced forward, my blood sworns intercepting every attempt on my person just as I'd demanded, I could feel no remorse. But I'd had to hurry; there were over a hundred vampires missing from this celebration. My sworns had held Emile at bay easily when enough vampires piled onto him. Though some of them were sworn to him too, his commands could not override mine. I'm sure he still doesn't understand why.

"He will kill you for this," Bjorn had whispered when I made him sink to his knees. I hadn't answered before forcing him to reach into his chest and pull out his own heart. There is no more room in my heart for regret, especially not for those who have hurt people I care about. I can't stop shaking as I stare at the ground where the organ rests at my feet. Slick with gore, I’d dropped it. Blood blooms from Bjorn's body, face down on the ground. I watch it spread slowly, a dark red stain on the crisp white marble.

He's right. Roman will end me, but I doubt it will be because I killed his father. It won't even be because of what I do to his coven. It will be because I earned his trust, his care, his love, and I'd spit on it. It will be because he thinks it's all false, and that I'd planned to do this all along. I don't know when it shifted, when I started considering alternatives, but he'll never believe me. Once he knows the depth of the lies and manipulating I've done, the information I've withheld, he will hate me more than he ever thought possible. A sob heaves up my throat just as a woman slams me to the ground. Kathleen's hands are on my throat, squeezing, and I'm barely able to pull her hands off me, but she overpowers me for a moment and punches me in the face. I gasp as my head whips to the side, and she repositions. Straddling me, she holds my wrists down to the ground above my head.

"How?" she demands, but I thrust my hips up and she falls forward, letting go of my arms to gain her balance. Grabbing her around the middle with one arm, I elbow hers with the other and roll. Slamming her down to the ground, I'm the one with the advantage now as she throws her head back on the marble. The sickening crack vibrates through me. Kathleen turns her head, looking at Bjorn's body beside us. I realize I'm covered in his blood, and exhale a quick breath. I think of the brief terror she'd caused me before it shifted into the opportunistic glee her hatred offered.

---