Page 152 of House of Crimson Hearts
I lean down to Eleanor and press my fingers harder against her neck, desperately searching for a sign of life. But before I can establish whether her heart beats, I’m being picked up and carried from the room.
How I fight. Spitting and scratching and biting any flesh I can reach. But it’s futile.
It doesn’t matter how I scream or protest, I’m carried further and further from my love. And with every step we take, the house swarms higher with flames.
The heat, a furnace of roaring power, consumes the cottage, the straw roof catching faster than I can cough and splutter the smoke away.
The men have to carry me several yards from the cottage because the heat from the flames is singeing our skin, filling the atmosphere with the stench of burnt hair, smoke and rotten hate.
They stand watching until the house is consumed and when they’re satisfied, they carry me off and bundle me into Mother’s carriage.
I beat my fists against the walls until my knuckles crack and blood smears over the walls. I scream until my throat is dry. I cry until my body is parched of liquid. But still I’m taken further and further from Eleanor.
And when, at last, the carriage draws into the manor, and Mother is stood on the porch of the house, I’m dropped at her feet and the men vanish.
She picks me up by the collar of my nightdress.
“Disgusting,” she snarls. “I hope you realise the gravity of what you’ve done?”
I wrench myself free from her grip, pull my arm back, and I slap her so hard she stumbles and falls onto her bottom.
“Do. Not. Speak. To. Me,” I snarl the words and march into the manor.
All the while, Mother is hollering behind me about the damage I’ve caused and the problems I’ve created in trying to secure a suitor.
But I stop listening and instead, I plot my escape. I will find my way back to the cottage and I will take my love’s body and give her the burial she deserves.
I curl myself into the corner of my room, barricading the door so Mother can’t enter, and I plead with the witch-gods. Beg them to listen to me, even though they’re not my gods, and plead with them to save her.
I trace my fingers over my palm, trying desperately to remember whether there was a heartbeat. Trying to call back the imprint of her neck, the shadows of my memories already fading.
But there’s nothing.
Nothing other than the violent rage spilling out of my heart and the need to run. I turn to my window and glance down at the cobbled-roof porch at the back of the manor. There’s no one outside. But there is a horse already saddled in the corner of the paddock. Someone must be about to leave. I don’t think. I don’t question it. I move.
I pull a small bag together. Clothes, the mini grimoire I was reading of Eleanor’s, the bag of silver I’ve been saving. Then I wrench open the window, dropping the bag onto the roof. I leverage myself out and hang on the windowsill by my fingers.
I take a deep breath and let go. I bite down on my tongue, suppressing the urge to scream as I fall several feet to the porch roof.
My body rolls right off the porch roof, and I drop to the ground. I pick up the bag and run as fast as I can to the paddock. The horse shies from the unexpected motion, but I untether him, climb on and dig my heels into his sides. He rears up, and then we’re galloping through the morning, following the trail of smoke rising into the sky like a beacon.
“I’m coming, Eleanor.”
Chapter42
OCTAVIA
Ileave Red sleeping under the stars on the roof of the castle. She was so high from my blood and me taking hers that after we came, she fell into the deepest sleep I’ve ever known. Her breathing was heavy and slow, and she looked so peaceful that what I had to do next broke me.
After I tasted her, I knew that Xavier was right. I knew that if I wanted to protect her, protect her the way I’ve done for the last three years, then I had no choice.
I wanted to tell her. Fuck, I’ve been desperate to remove the compulsion and explain the mistakes I made. Explain that I really fucked up. I was selfish wanting her to choose me over everyone else.
Twice she has loved me.
Twice I have taken her memories.
Twice I have lost.
