Series: The Sacrifice Series by Natasha Knight
Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
It is the eve of my twenty-second birthday. The entire family has gathered for the occasion, just as we have every year. My mother and father are opposite me, smiling somberly, while my grandmother Celeste gathers plates for the cake from the kitchen. The rest of the seats at the table are littered with more of the Wildblood spawn—my sisters Raven, Winter, Aurora, and now Cordelia, who quietly slips into her place beside me.
They are all trying very hard to convince themselves this is just another birthday. This morning, I received a large stack of pancakes delivered to me in bed. And this afternoon was spent in the company of the Wildblood women. They painted my nails, braided my hair, and watched all my favorite movies with me. There was tea, fine European chocolates, and gifts aplenty as we all set aside our thoughts and acted as if it was just the mark of another year gone by. But we all know it’s not. Tonight, the energy has noticeably shifted as the hour draws nearer.
Tomorrow, I will be chosen.
As if to remind me, the crescent-shaped birthmark on my breast seems to warm with its own energy. It’s the same mark every Wildblood woman who’s been chosen has carried, an inheritance from my ancestor Elizabeth whose traits have passed down from generation to generation as if by some unwritten decree.
Even after all these years, my sisters and I have the same red hair and blue eyes. The laws of genetics can’t alter these traits. Though my father has no trace of red hair in his family, we still inherited. It is believed to be a part of the magic. The lore.
The Wildblood curse and honor.
We will appear in Elizabeth’s image as a reminder to the Delacroix family that she can’t be killed. She will live on through every Wildblood woman birthed into this world and never be erased.
A shiver moves over me as my grandmother directs us to gather our hands around the table. She’s a wise woman—one I admire deeply—and I feel her strength as she sets her eyes upon me.
“Mother Goddess, may you protect and watch over our beloved Willow in the coming year. Bless her with courage, honor, and wisdom. And above all, please bless her with strength and protect her from evil.”
At the conclusion of the last sentence, my mother promptly bursts into tears and shakes her head as all of our gazes fall upon her. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “It’s just the emotions of the day. Please give me a few moments to compose myself. But do enjoy your cake, Willow, and don’t wait for me.”
She excuses herself and retreats to the second floor while my grandmother offers me a reassuring smile and serves up the cake. Nobody speaks while we eat. I chew, not really tasting anything as numbness takes over. Every bite I swallow seems to sour in my stomach, and honestly, I’ll be glad when the festivities are over.
“Want me to read to you, Willow?” Cordelia asks as my grandmother clears the plates.
“Or perhaps you’d like to sit beneath the moon,” Raven offers. “It’s beautiful tonight.”
“Thank you, but I’m tired.” I offer them a smile for their benefit. “I think I’d like to rest now.”
My grandmother nods at me in approval, and silence settles over the room as I make my way to the stairs. I can feel their gazes on me as I ascend, and guilt weighs heavy on me for not being able to set my emotions aside any longer. They are only trying to help, but nothing can be done. I know what awaits me tomorrow, and there’s no use in pretending otherwise.
When I open the door to my bedroom, I’m not surprised to find my mother waiting for me at the end of my bed. She’s still weeping, and she doesn’t try to hide it any longer.
“Willow.” My name leaves her lips on an anguished cry.
I join her, settling onto the bed beside her as she takes my hand.
“Please.” A renewed fear alights in her eyes. “I have some distant relatives in Ireland who can take you in. I’ve packed a bag, some money–”
“You know I can’t do that.” I reach up to wipe her tears away. “There isn’t a place they won’t find me. And if I weren’t here, they would likely take one of my sisters anyway. I could never live with myself if I let that happen.”
“And I can’t live with myself if I let them take you.” My mother sobs. “The others don’t have the mark. Maybe they won’t take them. Maybe they will believe the curse to be broken–”
She’s grasping at a fantasy we both know can’t be real. But I let her have it, at least long enough to compose herself.
“It will be okay,” I assure her. “I’m strong. A Wildblood woman, remember? There’s nothing we can’t do.”