Page 106 of Veradel
“I can’t sit there either.”
“Saskia, just because you’re a vampire doesn’t mean—”
“No.” The words flow out of her mouth faster than I think she intended. “I can’t even stay here.”
This isn’t about what Gabriel said to her, I realize, as yearning brews in her eyes—probably amplified by the fact that there’s no Wall closing in around her anymore. Just woods and free space and air. Nothing stopping her from running and running and never looking back if she wishes. And I don’t blame her. She needs that.
“I’ve been trapped in this city my entire life,” she continues, “doing what is expected of me, somehow breaking every Rule along the way.” I allow myself a deep breath and force myself to look her in the eye, regardless of the blow I can feel coming. “But after we administer the antivenom to everyone who needs it, after this city rises from these ashes,” she says, “I want to see what’s beyond the woods. Beyond Eversnow Peak. I want to experience the parts of the world I’ve missed.”
She searches my pupils for a reflection of the sorrow that seems to have overwhelmed her suddenly: thinking that we can’t stay together, becausewhile I rule here, she will be somewhere outthere. Not tied to anyone but herself.
“I’m sorry,” she chokes out. “I just can’t. I need you, but so do they. And I can’t ask you to come with me, no matter how badly I want you to.”
“What about whatIwant?” I ask her.
She swallows, her voice coming out hushed. “What do you want, Lucan?”
Silly, stubborn woman. She should know by now. “You, of course. I want to be wherever you are.” I curl my lips up in a wicked smile. “Besides, I’m a Monster. I wasn’t meant to sit. I was meant to prowl. To chase.”
She lifts an eyebrow and teases back, “Chase your nightmare?”
“To chase my dream,” I correct her. “Because that’s what you are.”
I can’t help it anymore, excitement tingling up my limbs. I extend my hand out to her and cradle her into my chest. Reaching up on her tiptoes, Saskia presses her lips to mine.
Vivian squeals and claps. My mother smiles. The other werewolves hoot, but a few humans exchange confused glances.
“Who’s going to lead us, then?” one of them asks, and I grin. How ironic and perfect that a single unsolicited question will be the very thing that sets into motion the future of entire generations to come. Because I know exactly how Saskia will respond. It’s why I fell in love with her in the first place.
She turns to address the crowd.
“For five centuries, we have had every aspect of our lives controlled by someone else. But now, there is a chance to start over with thirteen empty thrones.” She gestures behind her. “For us to decide what’s best for us. I’m not sure whether that will be a king or a queen or a council or something else entirely. All I know is that our voices should be heard, our opinions considered, and our decisions our own.”
She raises her chin higher, with me, the Monster, by her side.
“For five centuries, we have been Chosen. Now, it’s time to let the people choose.”
Darkness envelops me, but every other one of my senses is heightened.
I touch the fabric covering my eyes, a strip that Lucan ripped off his own shirt and tied around my head to blindfold me. It smells like him, pine and earth.
But the werewolf himself… I have no idea where he is. Behind me or in front of me or somewhere else entirely.
“Lucan!” I protest with a laugh, reaching my fingers out and scraping nothing but fresh, brisk air with a hint of something briny I can’t identify.
It’s been one month since we left Veradel, after I made sure every Chosen One was given an antivenom. One month since Taika, Belinda, a newly-healed Diggory, and I sat around a Healing Center bed with Sylvia’s statue lying rigidly on the mattress, tiny, translucent veins of venom I was never able to see as a human crawling along her stone skin. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that scene, even if Idoend up living forever.
The way we pushed the needle into one of those veins. The way Belinda’s tears splattered her daughter’s fossilized face as we waited. The way Diggory wrung his hands together, until color began to bloom in Sylvia’s face again, and her own hands twitched.
It was those hands of hers that moved first, a single finger pointing out before both palms lay flat and moved in small, circular motions.
“What is she saying?” Belinda asked Diggory immediately.
His own gruff face streaked with tears as he said, “I’m here.”
And then Sylvia opened her eyes. Theyallopened their eyes—every Chosen One who had fossilized to some degree or another. Even the purely stone ones, as long as they had turned to statues in this lifetime and remained undamaged, uncrumbled, unbroken, melted back into flesh and blood as soon as the antivenom found their still-human hearts.
My own eyes are still closed, though, blindfolded by the strip of Lucan’s shirt. Over the last month, we’ve pushed farther and farther west, into wild terrain with nothing more than two backpacks and a tent. We’ve seen waterfalls, the raging water plummeting a hundred feet off a cliff. Animals I never even knew existed. Canyons and valleys and rivers and now?
