“And besides, don’t you so crave to be a mortal?” the Eldest adds. “I mean, look at all these terrible little baubles—sad excuses for decoration. It’s as if you crave to be one of them. Perhaps, Sister,” she says, “we should give the Youngest exactly what she has always wanted. Perhaps she will not see it as a punishment at all—but a gift.”
If I had blood, it would run cold at the way my Sisters’ shadows seep into the floor around them. This is not a game. This is hatred—undiluted by time, bound in depth for centuries, for eons, ready to be unleashed.
If I am to be a mortal, they will not place me in a quaint cottage to live out the life I have always dreamed.
No.
I am familiar with how my Sisters handle mortals. I am well aware of the suffering they invoke to soothe their own boredom.
“Making me mortal is not a power you possess,” I say, though the way both of my Sisters chuckle has me doubting.
“Tell me, Sister,” says the Eldest. “How many lifetimes should we bind her?”
“One is certainly not enough. Mortals’ lives are so short, barely worth blinking over.”
“Oh, I know what would be more fun,” says my Eldest Sister, clapping her hands together. “She’ll be bound in mortal form, reincarnated life after life, until she figures out who she is. Until she remembers.”
“Want to make a bet on how many lifetimes it will take?” asks the Middle.
My Eldest Sister’s voice drops low for the first time in eons. “It’s a bargain.”
CHAPTER 60
When I come to, I am me. Not her, not the weak girl I thought myself to be, the shell of a person into which my Sisters stuffed me.
Shadows swarm me. Not like the shadows of the vile winged creature in the corner, his a gift from my Middle Sister. These shadows are me.
“No,” says my Middle Sister as her shadows retreat from me.
Fear—such a foolish emotion to have stored up for me all these eons. My Sisters were correct, of course. My power is more concentrated than the two of theirs combined. But I never considered using it to hurt them.
Until now.
It might not have been enough, stuffing me away, making me live and relive the lives of mortals. It might not have been enough, torturing me by Mating me to a man my Sister loved, one who already loved someone else—that has to have been my Eldest Sister’s idea of a joke.
But my Middle Sister made me give birth to a child, made me believe that child belonged to me, then took that child from my arms. Bent me to my knees before her and took that which wasmost precious to me, then made me realize that child is not mine at all, but that his mother never truly existed.
And so, my Sister should be afraid.
I snarl, shadows whipping around me like a cloak as my Middle Sister goes to clutch my throat harder. But I am no longer flesh and blood. I am shadow, contained for too long.
I burst, a flood of darkness engulfing my Sister. She retreats, outstretching her hands at her sides as she summons every shadow in the room. They absorb into her clutched palms, only to explode a moment later when she opens her fists.
Dark shrapnel bolts toward me. I dodge and turn, the condensed shadows shattering against my back, digging into my shadowy spine. Pain flecks across my back, but it is nothing compared to what I have so patiently endured.
I whirl back around and catch the tail end of a whip my Sister has summoned. Anger flaring, I snatch it toward me, my Sister’s body jolting forward, closing the gap between us with the sudden movement.
It’s only then that I notice the adamant shackles in her other hand.
But I will no longer be contained. Twisting her whip around my palm, I yank her closer, then with a downward motion, send her plummeting to her knees and the adamant clasps skittering across the stone floor.
My Sister catches herself on her hands, then drags herself upward. With an outstretched hand, she summons shadows that eclipse the fire in the hearth, plunging the entire room into darkness.
“Darling,” calls a male voice, but I cannot see him, cannot find him in this smothering desert storm of darkness.
I blink, reminding myself I have no need of finding the origin of the voice. He belonged to a girl who never existed.
“You idiot little girl,” says my Sister, her voice rippling all around me, encasing the room. “So you remembered who you are? What does it matter when you have never been willing to do what is necessary?”
