I follow her past bundles of lavender piled under the stairs, carefully bundled by the maids, then emerge into the great chamber room. Breathing in the rich smell of wood and polish, I scrunch my nose.
My mother turns back to face me, her violet gaze narrowing. “No, fortunately for you, they are going to find another to place your crimes on.”
My mouth dries instantly. “They can’t do that…”
She bares her teeth, tears swimming in her eyes. But I know better than to think they are for me. “Do you know what would happen if anyone discovered what you are?”
I blink twice, then reorientate myself. “What do you mean, what I am?”
Her bottom lip trembles as she turns away, as if my magic might seep into her if she looks at me too long. “Nothing but that kind of disgusting power could have killed a Phovus.”
“Decay magic?” I say aloud for the first time, an unexpected freedom ringing in my tone.
She winces, and I smile. “Keep your voice down,” she whisper-shouts. “Unless you want people to hear you. Do you know what they will do if they find out?”
“Kill me?”
My mom’s brows shoot halfway up her forehead, wrinkled by time. “Worse. Do you want your sisters to never find suitors? To be shunned by society.”
I shake my head, as if to agree with her. “That would be a tragedy.”
She points at the large window overlooking the gardens. “They will think we’re all like you. I don’t know how you came from me and can possess such… repulsive magic.”
Her words shouldn’t affect me. Yet, tears sting the corner of my eyes, but I refuse to cry. I will never cry for her. “I didn’t ask for it,” I say, my voice coming out far meeker than I’d have liked.
She sighs. “You were such a lovely girl when you were little. This is what happens when you abandon your worship of the gods. I warned you.”
“I won’t let Drake and an innocent die for my crimes. I killed the Phovi. It was my idea to destroy the statue,” I insist.
“And the gods will see you are punished for it, but, for now, you will keep quiet and let your father take care of things.”
“No!” I shout. “To the Darklands with him and the gods.”
I gasp when my mother’s hand lands on the side of my face. Pain shoots through my cheek and jaw, radiating into my temple. My ears ring as I touch the hot, pulsing mark branded on my skin.
My mom scowls, spitting her next words through clenched teeth. “Keep speaking like that, and it will be you who goes to the Darklands.” She places her trembling hands on her hips. “You will burden us for the rest of our lives. You will never find a husband acting the way you do, and you will doom your sisters to the same fate. Your disobedience will cost this family everything.” She sighs, then casts her eyes to the ceiling, painted with scenes of the gods. “You don’t care about us at all.”
My lips part, but I hold back the hundreds of things I want to spit back in response—about how she consistently treated me as an outsider, and blames me for every bad thing that happens in this family.
“You know what? Fuck you.”
Her mouth turns in disgust, but I turn around and storm through the foyer, hurrying up the grand staircase.
Beneath my fingers, the familiar sting of decay magic pulses. Since using it the other night, it craves more death. With every step, it sparks to life, and a small part of me desires to use it on my mother.
I push away the thought, uncomfortable with how easily the idea of murder comes to mind. No. I don’t want my mother dead, no matter how much pain she’s caused over the years. My sisters need her, because without her, my father will send them away to academies where things are even worse than what they are here.
She’s different with my sisters. Perhaps she’s a good mother to them, or at least, as much as she can be.
I slip into my bedroom and light the candles. Furniture emerges from the darkness as candlelight bathes the room in warmth.
Beside my bed, Thorn stands perched on my window ledge. Arabella calls him my pet, but crows require too much freedom to be domesticated.
Thorn hops onto the floorboards, and I lean over him, stroking his silky feathers until my fingertips brush against a rough, foreign texture. He winces, and I tighten my hold, restraining him so I can get a better look.
Upon closer inspection, I notice a tinge of blood on his feathers. “What happened?” I spot a union binding ring on the ground next to him, covered with crystals. Someone must have caught him taking it, then hurt him. “I warned you to stop stealing jewelry from people’s houses.”
He squawks. “Pretty ring.”
I roll my eyes. Quickly, I pull out my collection of dried roots, jars of venom, and other ingredients. While most of my collection is at the abandoned manor house, I keep a small supply here in case of poison related emergencies. But that isn’t the only thing I can do.
I unwrap the cloth, pinching a small amount of Sanare Medicis root, then add a few drops of moon water, until it turns into a paste.
Thorn flinches when I touch the wound. I shoot him a look, and he tilts his head. “It will help,” I promise, then carefully apply a thick layer of the ointment. “I’m not Arabella, but it’ll speed up the healing.”
He perks up on hearing my sister’s name. Footsteps sound outside the door, and I tense. Listening intently, I decipher they are not heavy or forceful enough to be my father’s, or if it’s a maid. My chest tightens, nonetheless.
Arabella opens the door, then coos at Thorn. “Hi, sweet baby.”
He preens his wings back, then ducks his head. Only Arabella sees the softer side of Thorn.
“Mother knows,” I say, then turn to face my sister. “Did you tell them Drake was involved?” I say through gritted teeth, my voice growing louder with each beat.
“No, I didn’t.” Arabella picks at her blonde hair, sprinkled with pink wildflowers, each layer of her hair tied back under the other, creating a wave. “They already knew,” she exclaims. “Everist got a vision in the church when he touched a pew. He knew you were there. He sensed decay magic too, but not who cast it, so I told them someone else was with you and Drake to throw them off your scent. They’re panicking, Cali. You’ve got to stay unnoticed for a while.”
I rub my forehead, smoothing out the lines forming as I stare back at my sister. “This is bad. They’ll likely pin this on some poor innocent witch in Azkiel’s coven and hang them.”
Her hands cover her dainty features, hiding the brim of tears. “I… no…” she mumbles between her fingers. “They won’t. Father won’t let them kill an innocent.”
