Chapter Eleven #3
Will’s jaw ticks as he reaches for me again, but his fist clenches, dropping to his side.
He sighs through his nose, casting a wary glance at Gabriel’s sleeping form.
“I’ve suspected Gabriel since we left Castle Grim.
I thought it would make sense for the Shifter to frame Flynn so that when you discovered the truth, you wouldn’t suspect Gabriel.
“Tonight, I saw something, just before I woke you, that made me wonder.” He shakes his head, his brow furrowed.
“It was so brief, I don’t know if he even realized he’d done it.
He must have thought I wasn’t looking, or maybe his control slipped, but…
his face transformed. And I knew”—he wheezes—“we couldn’t stay.
I had to get you out of there—I had to—”
“Gabriel’s an elf,” I argue. “He can transform—”
“No, Aster, he didn’t transform into just anyone. For a moment his eyes…” Will’s grip on my hand tightens. “His eyes were red.”
Relief and dread overwhelm me in equal measure. Jack, Margaret, and Henry are still whole—still themselves. But the Shifter would have killed Gabriel before taking his place. And that means Eliza has lost both of her brothers to the Underling general. All because of me.
“These Underlings—I know how they operate,” Will says. “They like to play games—like to make you doubt yourself.”
I think about what Morana said in the throne room at Castle Grim. I won’t waste another second playing his games.
And Owen… during my time at Bludgrave, he taunted me, leaving gruesome clues for me to find. His warning on the train to Ink Haven: William Castor is lying to you. And again, yesterday, the card that read LIAR. It’s all a game for him. A means to turn me against Will.
Shame coils in my gut. Whether I’ve admitted it or not, from the moment Owen told me I couldn’t trust Will, I’ve found it more difficult to believe the things he says to me.
I’ve put distance between us. Could Owen have suggested Morana compel Titus—to claim he confessed his feelings for me and that Will had known all along—just to tease me further?
Heat creeps up my neck, scorching my cheeks. Titus never cared for me. It was just another game. Another lie. Another ploy to create distrust between Will and me. And I fell for it.
“Why are you still here?” I jump at the sound of Henry’s voice as he emerges from the shadows of the cave. “You were supposed to be gone by now!”
I look between the two of them—Henry’s eyes are wide with concern, but Will’s… Will’s are full of shame. “How long have you two been planning this?”
Will glances at me over his shoulder, his mouth twisted in a frown.
“Before we reached the cave, I—” He grits his teeth, as if he doesn’t want to tell me, his eyes wild, voice catching.
“I told Henry about my suspicions. We agreed that if we were given an opportunity, we would act. A train headed for the coast is scheduled to depart less than an hour from now. Henry will get Margaret and Jack there before then.”
I shake my head, my gaze narrowing on Henry. He’s just as opposed to Will’s ability to influence people’s thoughts and emotions—their memories, their decisions. “You’re all right with this?”
Henry’s nostrils flare, but he dips his head.
“It’s necessary,” he says, his voice tight.
“Gabriel’s gone,” he insists, but it’s as if he strains to get the words out.
“The two of you need to get as far away from here as possible, and we’ll only slow you down.
I’ll make sure Margaret and Jack are safe. I swear on my life.”
There’s a moment, when the moon glints in Henry’s eyes, that it looks as if there’s more he wants to say.
But then he turns back to the cave, starting toward Margaret’s and Jack’s sleeping forms, his gait measured—steady.
Calm, despite his urgency. I trust him to look out for my sister, and a part of me is glad the three of them won’t be making the trek to Morana’s fortress with us.
But a pit forms in my stomach as I turn to Will. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
His face pinches, and it looks as if he’s in agony.
“I couldn’t. He’s kept such a close eye on both of us.
When I had a moment alone with Henry, I had to act.
I’m sorry—” He runs his hand through his mussed hair.
“But I can feel it, Aster. I don’t have long.
If I can just get you far enough—if I don’t make it all the way—at least you still stand a chance at obtaining the cure.
That’s all that matters to me now.” He reaches for me slowly, and this time, I don’t pull away as he cups my cheeks in his hands, his touch light as his gaze searches mine.
He whispers, his voice breaking, “You’re all that matters to me. ”
His fingertips graze my skin, and all at once, my pulse slows, my breath evens out. I place my hand over his. “We still have time,” I say. “We’re in this together, remember? Me and you.”
His eyes twinkle in the darkness. “Me and you,” he echoes, his thumb stroking my lips. He leans in, as if to kiss me, but he squeezes his eyes shut, shakes his head—pulls away. “Are you ready?” he asks, offering his hand to me.
I take it.