Page 12 of Their Lethal Pet
But something about this feels incredibly wrong. Like I’ve somehow waltzed myself into a trap.
Impossible. It was Serapina’s handwriting. I’m sure of it.
Except—
“Our first Offering,” the Village Viscount announces, his voice finally piercing the thumping of my heart and causing my eyes to spring open. “Bartholomew Monroe.”
Everyone remains still for a beat, then the crowd begins to part as a tall man with white-blond hair starts toward the stage. I don’t recognize him, which isn’t surprising. I really only know those who work in my garden district.
There are so many farms around here with huts that span nearly ten miles up and down the mountains on either side of the square, making it impossible for us all to regularly socialize. The Day of the Choosing is the only time we’re all together like this.
Fingertips brush mine, causing me to jolt. Then I remember that Sage is beside me. She’s been there the whole time. I lost sight of her presence after I removed my veil, my focus so resolute that all I could see was the Village Viscount.
His hand disappears into the Chalice once more as Bartholomew joins him on the stage. I can’t see the blond man’s expression, but I suspect he appears bored. Outward displays of emotion are not acceptable. Same with defiance.
The Village Viscount reads a second name, this time one of a female closer to the stage. All I can see is her dark hair since her veil and dress are covering everything else.
My nails bite into my palm as a third name is called—one thatisn’tmine.
If I could volunteer, I would. But that’s not how things are done.
By the time a fifth name is called, I’m sweating for very different reasons than from the overbearing sun.
How many is he going to call?
Fuck, why wasn’t I listening?
What happens if he doesn’t say my name?
A sixth is chosen.
A seventh.
An eighth.
My stomach drops, my limbs beginning to shake.
He’s not going to say my name.
Is that good or bad?
Bad. I need to find Serapina,I think as another part of me says,Good. I don’t want to be an example.
“And our final Offering,” the Viscount says.
Sage’s palm grasps mine as he pulls one last name from the Chalice. I know she’s hoping I’ve been spared. But I’m not. Or I am. A little. I… I’m conflicted.
The Viscount is confusing my priorities. I?—
“Alina Everheart.”
My name echoes across the town square as the Viscount looks right at me. And this time, I know it’s notbecause I’m the only one staring at him; it’s because he knows my name.
Shit.I shouldn’t have pulled off my veil…
CHAPTER THREE
FLAME
