Her breath catches. I know she sees the scars, the runes, andthe proof.Her eyes are fixated on my back. Her gaze becomes a mix of shock and recognition. No snappy retort follows, just silence and the intense inspection of my back.
Thought so.
“Nora doesn’t help us,” I say. “She controls us, one way or another.”
“I am stronger because of her.”
“Did she teach you that? You sound like a well-trained pet.” I turn to face her once again, pulling my shirt back on.
Her eyes flash. “The truth is in my abilities. I was not born with two kinds of magic. I wasmadethis way—"
“In her image, little witch.” I rub my hands over my face, trying to ground myself amidst the frustration. “Gods above.”
“Even if I am,” she hisses, “look at me. I’m perfect.”
I glance her over, slowly and deliberately. “You’re right, Millicent.” I step beside her, lowering my voice until it barely brushes the space between us. “When I look at you, I see something perfect. The kind of perfect only forged under pressure, like diamonds. Long, unrelenting pressure.”
Her brows furrow. She doesn’t believe me. Not yet.
“There’s something violently brutal in you,” I whisper. “Something fascinating. Stop kneeling to Nora. The only thing in that coven worthy of such worship...is you.”
I leave her there: blade in the desk, scars on my back, and too many words hanging between us.
Gods help us both. I need time to process what the hell I just relived.
Chapter 33
Millicent
“ALMOST! THERE!” OLLIE GRUNTS, PRESSING his feet to my shoulder, using his entire body weight to pry the collar off.
“Oliver, the bloody thing won’t come off unless the one who placed it removes it!” I snap.
“Me Misses, we just need oil! Ollie was stuck in a slide once, oiled myself right up I did! Slipped right out!”
When the hell did this happen?
Oliver hops off the bed, his solid form turning to gas as he zips away on his mission for oil. Wonderful.I’m going to be a greased-up pig. I shift my glare to the window where Nora’s owl perches like a smug sentinel.
“You can’t do anything to get me out of this? Seriously?”
Why the hell can’t Nora get this thing off me?
Elders are the oldest witches in a coven. Their magic’s strength grows with age. Nora is an incredibly strong witch and a big reason our coven is so respected by others.
The owl clicks its beak and then plays a recording of Nora’s voice: “Millicent, your own stupidity got you into this. You can get yourself out. I told you to behave, and, per usual, you can’t control yourself.”
Shame floods through me, which seems to always accompany a speech from her. A small flicker of anger pushes against it. “Thanks for nothing,” I mutter under my breath, too low for the owl to hear.
Iris is my best chance at getting this thing off, but I have avoided her—and anyone else—for the past four days since waking up. I lost control. I tried to kill Kalix. Whatever’s going on between him and Iris, she cares for him. Talking to her now seems like a disaster waiting to happen.
Ollie crashes around the bathroom, his bottles of oil clinking like a cacophony of chaos. That’s my cue. I slip out in search of Iris.
Her lab door creaks as I open it. Inside, she’s hunched over a corpse, peering through a large magnifying glass while prodding around its intestines. I make sure my steps are loud, and I close the door with purpose—no surprises.
“Back already? You better not have eaten any of my mangos on the way here, Kalix. I swear, if you did, I’ll send you right back to cut some more up.”
“It’s Millicent,” I say softly, crossing the room at an even pace.
