The hallway is quiet, and so are my quarters. There’s nothing, not even a hint of breathing, coming from my bedroom.
I already know.
With my heart in my stomach, I shove the door open, revealing an empty room. My bed is unmade. Grace’s shoes are gone, and so is her coat from the dresser. Everything else is as I left it.
There’s no sign of her, but there wasn’t a struggle either.
Beatrice flies into view, shuddering to a stop inches from me. Her head whips one way, then another, before she lunges into the room. She’s cowering as she turns, dark eyes growing large.
“I didn’t…” she starts, lower lip trembling. “I swear, I am telling the truth, Master. Oskar came, and he told me to leave, and I—I did. But I swear…”
Her words break into hysterical sobs as falls to her knees. She dips her head, resting it on the floor between us.
“Please, Master,” she says, her words muffled. “Have mercy. I didn’t?—”
“Did he say anything?” I demand. “Did he give any indication he was taking her somewhere?”
“No, I swear,” she says. She stares up at me, makeup running down her cheeks. “He said he was taking over until you were done with Cora. That’s it. I promise.”
I don’t know if she’s telling the truth. Right now, it doesn’t matter.
“Get up,” I say. “Round the others. Bring them to the courtyard.”
Without a word, Beatrice launches to her feet and disappears around the corner. I grab Grace’s electronic from the bed and make my way through the manor.
Cora can use it for a locating spell. If Grace is gone, if she’s been stolen from me, these will help bring her back.
Unless she wasn’t stolen at all.
Unless she ran, and he helped her.
I shove the thought out of my head. There isn’t time to consider it.
“No one speaks,”I command. I stand at the head of the table, looking from each seated member of my inner circle. They all face me without a speck of remorse or guilt, as if they’re all as determined to find Grace as I am.
Is it possible they’re all innocent?
It doesn’t make sense for any of them to betray me.Outside of Cora, they’re all vampires. Theywantto break this curse as desperately as I do. I glance at our resident witch as she adjusts Grace’s electronic on the table. No, it’s impossible to imagine Cora sabotaging this.
“Is it ready?” I ask, nodding toward her set-up. Three brightly-colored herbs surround the electronic, forming a loose triangle.
Cora nods and closes her eyes. With her hands spread over the table, she mutters a foreign spell beneath her breath. The air shifts with magic, and the herbs slowly begin to twitch against the stone. As Cora works, the rest of us alternate between watching her and watching the courtyard’s entrance.
Beatrice and Amelia sit on the far side of the table, and Theo sits across from them. I stare at the opposite head of the table, where my oldest friend usually sits.
“Master,” Milas calls.
I turn, chest tensing. Milas strides into the courtyard, hand on Oskar’s shoulder. The old man isn’t fighting him off. He doesn’t look riddled with guilt or fear. His expression is as gentle, as steady as ever. He walks with his hands loose at his sides, a soft smile lighting his face once he reaches me.
“Oskar,” I say, searching his eyes.
If Beatrice is telling the truth, he was the last to see Grace before she disappeared. He would be guilty of something terrible—and I should be able to sense it. Looking now, there is nothing but gentle warmth and a familiarity deeper than my own reflection.
“Everyone sit,” I say, forcing myself to look away. My voice is hard, teeming with overflowing tension. I can feel every muscle in my neck, in my back, in my legs. It takes all my effort not to lunge for Oskar’s throat.
Careful.
The fastest path to Grace is with the truth. Until I know what happened, I can’t know where to look. Or who to punish.
