25
THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING IN THE WORLD
SEBASTIAN
We have a plan, or at least, the beginning of one. I met with Cora and Oskar in the courtyard to explain our new challenge: breaking the curse without risking Grace’s life. Oskar understood immediately, as I hoped he would, but Cora was more difficult. She had endless questions and dozens of hypothetical consequences if we failed the ritual a second time.
Eventually, Oskar retired for the night, promising to inform the rest of the inner circle of our changed plans. Cora hounded me for another two hours after he left, and it all came back to her earlier sentiment.
If you choose her over them, you’re dooming your entire species. Again.
Cora was right. It was my recklessness that caused the sun curse, and this is my only chance to repair the damage…but sacrificing Grace isn’t saving my people. It’s making the same mistake of selfishness, all over again. This time, I’m not choosing Grace over the vampires.
I’m choosing redemption over revenge.
The future over the past.
Our love over my pride.
By the time Cora and I left the courtyard, I felt like she understood. I can only hope the others will feel the same way. We don’t need to risk Grace to save ourselves. We can break the curse—and we will—but we’ll do it the right way. The witches don’t realize Grace exists, so we have nothing but time to?—
“Beatrice?”
My brain stutters as I enter the blood letting room. There are dozens of feeding vampires, but my eyes immediately lock on the brunette at the center table. Beatrice sits across from a human man, his wrist pressed to her ruby lips. Her eyes are hazy as she pulls back to wave at me. She uses the back of her wrist to wipe her mouth, expression shifting when I don’t move a single muscle.
I’m sure I must be hallucinating, and I blink, desperate to make the vision disappear.
“Is everything okay?” she asks. She breaks away from the bloodletter, snapping to attention. Without taking her eyes off me, she strides across the room to my side.
“Where is she?”
Beatrice freezes, jaw tensing, teeth grinding. She studies me silently, as if decoding a complicated riddle.
“Grace?” she asks finally.
“Did you leave her alone?” I ask.
Without waiting for a response, I spin out of the room and take off in the direction of my quarters. I don’t let myself run, much as I’m tempted. I need to understand, because Beatrice wouldn’t abandon her post without reason. Something must have happened.
“Is she hurt?” I ask.
Without turning, I know Beatrice has followed me. She keeps pace at my side, our shoulders brushing.
“She was fine when I left,” she says. Her voice wavers. “Oskar came to replace me.”
I stop, turning abruptly on Beatrice. She stumbles, back striking the wall, eyes widening as I crowd her against it. I breathe her in, searching for even the faintest hint of Grace’s blood.
There’s nothing.
Beatrice shudders where she stands, neck tense as she leans away from me. I can smell the fear radiating off her, but there’s no sign of deception or guilt. She’s telling the truth, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t make sense of it.
“Why?”
“He said you’d sent him,” she says. “This was two hours ago. He said?—”
I don’t hear the rest of her sentence. I take off, tearing through the halls so fast I can barely track where I am. I’m up the stairs and down a twist of corridors and standing in front of my closed bedroom door.
He’s not here.
