“Once it’s over,” he says, “I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”
“I’m not going to survive,” I say. My voice doesn’t sound like mine. It’s disconnected, far away. “Don’t lie to me, Sebastian.”
He forces me to stop, grabbing my chin, making me look at him.
“You arenotgoing to die,” he says. “Understand? I am not going to let you die.”
“The ritual might need it,” I say. “It might be the only way?—”
“Then I will find a different way.”
“You can’t honestly expect me to believe that.”
“No, I guess I can’t,” he says. He releases my chin, looking behind me at the statue of himself. After a lengthy pause, he looks back at me. “It’s still the truth, Grace. I am not going to let you die.”
Maybe he’s telling the truth. Maybe he’s lying.
I need to leave before I find out.
19
DON’T RUSH ME
GRACE
Over the next three days, I make my plan. It’s not the most elaborate, but that’s what I get for puttering around, refusing to acknowledge the truth. My days here at the manor are limited, and no amount of training with Cora will keep these vampires from draining my blood if that’s what it takes to break their curse. I should have been planning from the day Sebastian dragged me here.
If I was smart, I would have the manor layout memorized. I would have made friends with the servant who brings my food. I would have learned Sebastian’s weaknesses.
Instead, I’ve been too caught up in proving myself and not losing myself in a pit of depression.
Whatever. There’s no use stressing about it now. I’ve got a week until I’m sacrificed for their ritual, and that means I’m running out of time. I don’t have the luxury of feeling like an idiot.
On the computer Sebastian gifted me, I jot notes on a blank document. I start with any useful information I know.People’s names, and which ones Sebastian trusts the most. The Echo, and any details I remember from when we traveled to the Flight Realm. The spells I’ve seen Cora conjure, and which ones I think I might be able to replicate.
As I draft a timeline in my mind, I lay in bed, hands in my lap. All the while, I call magic to my fingertips, feeling it spark beneath my skin. It’s impossible to explainhowI cast, and only now that Ican, do I understand why Cora couldn’t give better instructions.
It’s more about feeling than logic.
Without touching it, I move my laptop from the foot of my bed to a spot on the floor. Back and forth, until my arm muscles pulse with overuse. I might not be moving, but my body is working hard. I’m sweating, breathing rough, my tank top sticking to my abdomen.
I practice and plot my escape, only stopping when Oskar walks me to Cora’s for the day. Then, after a long day of training, and once I’ve eaten an overflowing bowl of pasta, I get back to work.
I practice late into the night, even when my body begs for sleep. There’s too much to do…and honestly, I’m not ready for tomorrow to come. If I sleep now, I will wake with not seven days remaining, butsix.
I swallow the thought, sitting upright in bed. It creaks as I rise to my feet, crossing the room as quietly as I can manage. With my ear pressed to the door, I listen for movement in the hallway. I know someone is out there—most likely Oskar—but I can’t hear him through this stupidly thick door.
I lean back. Running my hands over the frame, I study its simple design. Four hinges, all made of heavy black metal. I crouch to the lowest one, studying its elongated pin. The metal is too small, too delicately carved into the hingefor me to pinch with my fingers. Still, if I could just bend it and find a way to pull it?—
It doesn’t matter. Escaping from my bedroom isn’t a good idea. Even if I got through the door, I wouldn’t make it far before my guard captured me.
I’ll have better luck if I ask for a bathroom break. Any time Oskar walks me, he keeps his distance. To be respectful, I’m sure. Got to be a gentleman when you’re keeping a woman prisoner.
That plan is better, but I still find myself reaching for the metal again. Before I touch it, the door flies open. It crashes into my side, knocking me against the wall. I let out a pathetic squeak and scramble to my feet.
It’s not Oskar tonight.
“What are you doing?” Beatrice asks. Sebastian only brought her back on my guard rotation a couple nights ago, butof course, she has to be here now. She stares at me wordlessly, her dark eyebrows jetting toward her forehead.
