Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 122946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
I glared at her. “Thanks. It’s my first day as a part of their family; I’m sure I’m making a marvelous impression on them all.”
Her smile widened brightly to a full-blown grin. “If not, they will not say anything for your husband loves you far too much for them to object.”
“I feel like I should help you with that.” I pointed to her neck. “It can’t be comfortable.”
“I would be grateful.” She lifted her chin, and it was only when I reach for it that she added, “So grateful as to ignore your obvious desire to avoid praise of your husband.”
“I’m not married,” I whispered, tugging gently on the crown.
“Then may I haunt him for eternity? He is quite splendid,” she asked.
I paused and stared at her. “You’ve been waiting in a painting for almost two hundred years because of one man with such a deep love, and yet, you are moving on so quickly.”
“What can I say? I am a romantic.”
“Better luck if you get another chance.” I shook my head.
“I believe I will, and thus, I owe you thanks. In burning that painting, you’ve almost set me free.” She giggled but then pointed to her neck. “Yet you seem to be having trouble now because I brought up your husband.”
I let go of her neck and stepped back. “Obviously, it’s because I need a spell, instead.”
“The magic of love?” she asked.
That was so cheesy, but I’d let it slide. “Please stay still. I’m still learning my magic.”
“Impossible.” She frowned. “To have helped me so much so far, you must have a great mastery of magic as my husband did.”
“You knew he was a witch?”
She nodded, a sad frown on her lips. “He never told me. I never asked. But I knew. Just as I knew my benefactor was also of the unearthly.”
“Your benefactor?” I asked, confused.
Once more, she nodded behind me, and when I turned to look, Sigbjørn glanced over to Rhea.
“She was always far too perfect and wary of my husband to be human herself.” She said. “I should have listened more. Tell her—though she will surely say there is no point in acknowledging it now—that she was right.”
“I’ll let her know.” I nodded as her eyes looked at the ashes of her painting. “Was it for her?”
“No, she inspired it nevertheless, painting my heart as she said she saw it. In the end, I found myself trapped in the dark there.” It was not sadness in her eyes but peace as she stood straighter. “I did not know how to leave once I entered, and I became heavy with the pain of the truth. Then there was light, not so bright it blinded but like the moonlight. I looked, and it was you. I could come out. Forgive me for harming you or seeking to harm your husband. I was very confused and hurt. Light set me free; now, I must move on.”
“Apology accepted.” I nodded to her, feeling my hands tremble, and I knew what to say. “And as you should…wild thing, unfilled soul, free from broken body left to rot, no longer trapped in a killer’s knot. Magic done, is now undone, peace to you once lost one.”
“And to you lighted one,” she whispered as the crown of thorns burned to ash around her neck. An in that same moment, I felt something loosen as my body became lighter. When she faded into nothing, and I could no longer see her, my eyelids were too heavy to keep open. So, I closed them, melting into whatever I was feeling.
Chapter 29
Blood.
The smell of it caused my throat to ache so badly I swallowed my own saliva. I wanted it, but yet, at the same time, I was so comfortable, I didn’t want to move. It was warm and nice here. I could hold off hunting for at least another few minutes. Cozying up to the source of my heat, I smiled.
“You are very cruel,” I heard my heater say.
Heaters can’t talk. Wait. Why am I so warm?
Opening my eyes, I shut them and turned over, pulling the sheets over my head to avoid the sunlight.
“Does it burn?”
“No, it doesn’t burn. It’s just so bright.” I groaned and then remembered the short series of events which had just occurred. Hunger. Heat. Voice. Sun. Turning. Sheets. That made no sense.
Sitting up, I saw the large king-sized bed I was in, the silver, silk sheets I held, and even the silk nightgown I wore. My eyes widened, and I looked over to find Theseus sitting upright against the headboard, shirtless and reading an old Greek translated copy of Dante’s Divine Comedy in one hand and a glass of blood in the other.
Confused but hungry, I reached over and snatched it from his hand, all but dumping the blood down my throat. Licking my lips, I stared at the empty cup frustrated there was nothing more.