Page 3 of Ruin
Memories flashed between us. She would follow me anywhere when we were little. I’d climb trees, and she was never far behind. She’d pick me the prettiest flowers from the meadows past the trees. We were inseparable until theaccident.
“Careful, Zalia.” My eyes bulged. “If you think me capable of such dark things, then I’d be cautious with empty threats.”
She wrung her hands. “I wish Father could hear you. He’d have you beheaded for whatever it is you do up here.” Her nose scrunched.
I looked over her head. “That would be difficult without evidence.”
She huffed. “Did you know Logan came to court?” She glared, contempt in her eyes. “You were supposed to marry him, right? It was set up until Father decided to lock you away.”
“You really are a vain little gnat.”
She chuckled. “Oh my, it didn’t take long for the insults to come hurling out. No matter, I greeted him.” She ran her finger along her bottom lip. “He’s such a good kisser, you know.”
“Get out of my room!” I spat between my teeth. “If you’ve come here to gloat—”
“I have come here because I know you’re the one doing bad things to our family.” Her voice grew louder with each beat. “Strange things keep happening, and you’re the only one in this castle horrid enough to do something like that.”
“What exactly are you accusing me of?”
Her eyes flitted from me to my bed, then to the fireplace. “I don’t know yet.”
“If you have no proof and no idea, then I suggest you leave.”
“Don’t get too comfortable.” She stood and crossed her arms over her chest.
“I never was,” I called behind her.
She stormed out, puffing her cheeks as she left. Once the door closed, I dropped to my knees and grabbed the heavy, leather-bound book. With her on my tail, performing a spell was a bad idea, but it was too late to rebuke it now. Tomorrow they’d be ugly for a short while, and Zalia would know it was me. To my father’s knowledge, I didn’t practice. I dared not touch elemental magic. It was never my friend. But this power… it was from another place, and it didn’t discriminate. Regardless, not a soul could know because Zalia was right about one thing. I would be executed for it, for heresy.
“You could make her pay,”my master reminded me. “She deserves it. They all do. After all, what is a heart? You could stop the pain for good.”
Orange rays peeked through the window, covering everything in its dewy glow. I fumbled my fingers, then closed my eyes.
“Take it from them before they take me from you.”
I was jittery. I snapped my teeth together to stop the chattering. If Zalia found out and could prove what I was doing, I’d be dead, and if she didn’t, it could take years to gain the power to fight them.
I sighed, and my voice grumbled in my throat. “Tell me what to do.”
“It is time, Evangeline, to steal another’s heart.”
CHAPTER TWO
I’d prepared everything, including the dagger which had been welded with magic to remove the pain that came from a sharp blade. It was the little comfort I could offer my victims, which had, up until now, been small animals. For the power I needed, my master demanded a greater sacrifice.
My heart pounded as I walked the corridors. Candlelight flickered against the ancient, washed stone and portraits with eyes that looked like they were following me. Slinking into the shadows, I curved around the corner to where the ladies gathered after dark to gossip.
Their dresses billowed around them as they sat on the benches, and their hair was tied into knots on the back of their heads, each with two curls left to dangle around their faces. I could smell the honey and blueberry hues of their liquor from where I watched. They were drinking Abarini.
The chatter grew louder under the pale moonlight. There were twelve of them that I could see.
Ivy, strangling pink wildflowers and white daisies, was wrapped around the columns behind them, which led to the gardens. Guards were stationed at every entrance. A flash of silver penetrated the darkness where I stood when moonlight hit one of the guard’s swords. I held my breath, then pushed back against the wall.
There she was, my beautiful target. She was tired of her bun and pulled her long, dark curls over one shoulder. Her dusty pink lips were forever turned into a smile, balling her bronzed cheeks. She danced, her pink ruffles twirling out around her, clearly intoxicated.
“She is perfect. With her death, you will be one step closer to the throne,”he whispered, strengthening my resolve.
Watching her was exhilarating. She was everything I wasn’t. Bright-eyed, she leaned forward talking over the others, excited for every passing moment. She lived in the present, reminding me of the second youngest, Selena.
