CHAPTER 27
The great hall was unrecognizable.
It looked like a winter wonderland, complete with rolling hills of snow and ice sculptures that jutted up like columns.
All of the chairs were gone, leaving the center clear.
Enchanted snowflakes gently fell from above, but it was the ceiling that had my mouth opening in awe.
It was as if there was no ceiling at all, as if the roof had been removed to allow the outside in.
The dark sky littered with stars was nearly obscured by an undulating wave of greens, blues, and pinkish reds.
The spelled aurora borealis danced to and fro, encouraging the viewers below to do the same.
Except that they were too busy mingling in little groups, most of them sipping from flutes of champagne or nibbling on hors d’oeuvres served by the school staff.
But the second Gran and I entered the great hall, a ripple effect occurred.
The groups closest to us stopped talking to stare, which then prompted neighboring groups to do the same.
Within moments, the entire great hall had fallen quiet except for the music playing, everyone turning to witness our entrance.
A few more seconds, and even the music died, plunging the room into deafening silence.
All the hair on my body rose as hundreds of eyes focused on me and my grandmother.
The weight of them was unbearable, but I forced my chin up anyway, unwilling to let Gran down when she so desperately needed me.
How I handled this moment didn’t just affect me.
It affected her, too, maybe even more so.
This was her first time seeing these faces in a decade, faces that had once looked upon her with reverence and awe. She’d been a legend back in her day, and there wasn’t a soul in the witch community that didn’t know who Katherine Mayweather was.
As those faces focused on her now, not a single one was filled with reverence or awe.
Gran stood tall anyway, the air about her like that of a queen entering a roomful of subjects.
Something brushed past my skirt, and I didn’t have to look to know that it was Pearl, no doubt answering Gran’s call to stand united against the hostile masses.
Gran was a pillar of strength beside me, refusing to wither under the hundreds of cold stares.
Out of habit, I searched for Professor Holt, knowing that I could count on her sympathy, at least. I couldn’t find her, my gaze hitting glare after glare from faces that despised me and my grandmother for no other reason than our Mayweather bloodline.
It didn’t matter that Gran had once been considered royalty, that she’d been lavishly respected and praised for decades of service to her community.
It didn’t matter that she’d lost her husband in a skirmish with the vampires, that she’d spent almost forty years trying to keep Syphons safe.
It didn’t matter that she’d retired with honor, that her actions had never directly disgraced the community.
I might be paying for the sins of my family, but she was equally paying for them. Her daughter was dead, her son and daughter-in-law currently locked up in prison, but that made no difference. Someone still needed to pay for their unforgivable mistakes.
Ten years. Ten years of isolation, and it was like that time meant nothing to the unfriendly faces before us. Distrust was heavy in the air, their harsh opinion of the Mayweather name as unrelenting as ever.
Gran suddenly reached over her shoulders and flipped up a hood I hadn’t known was attached to her dress.
A black hood. The reactions around us were instantaneous, shocked gasps and whispers rippling through the crowd.
Even I struggled to keep my composure, beyond surprised that she’d chosen to make such a bold statement tonight of all nights and here of all places.
Mysteriously cloaked in black, she looked like an elder prepared to do battle. The image was a slap in the face of everything the Legacy Gala stood for, and it was obvious that Gran’s intent came across loud and clear to the community who’d shunned everything she stood for.
“Elder Mayweather,” I heard someone whisper.
“Ex-elder,” someone hissed back.
“How obscene.”
“Who does she think she is?”
If Gran heard the comments, she didn’t let on, her queenly air and cloak an impenetrable shield around her.
Until she spotted them.
As the Hudson family came into view, our outward reactions were identical. Stiff necks, even stiffer spines. Gran’s fingernails dug into my arm, a low hiss leaving her as she locked eyes with Thorne’s grandmother, her greatest nemesis.
They hadn’t seen each other in ten years, but it was clear that the animosity Gran felt toward her ex-best-friend hadn’t faded with time. A deep, rumbling growl from Pearl further confirmed Gran’s feelings.
Beatrice Hudson’s expression was unreadable as she took Gran in. The air thickened even more with tension, the bad blood between the pair more than obvious. A calico cat emerged from beneath Beatrice’s sparkly maroon skirt, and Pearl hissed at the familiar who used to be her friend.
My eyes cut to Thorne without permission, only to find his gaze already fixed on me.
His expression matched his grandmother’s, and my heart sank, then sank even lower when I saw that the entire Hudson family was looking at me the same way—save for Comet, whose expression never changed no matter what he was feeling.
Thorne’s parents had come to the gala, of course, but so had a member that I hadn’t expected to see.
His younger brother, Sterling.
Juliana’s twin.
At the sight of him, my throat painfully closed, cutting off my air.
I slowed, forcing Gran to slow with me. Seeing him standing there was like looking at a ghost. He’d always favored his sister in appearance more than Thorne, his features softer than his older brother’s.
Even though he’d significantly filled out since the last time Juliana had shown me a picture of him, he was nowhere near as broad as Thorne.
Both looked devastatingly handsome in black tuxes perfectly tailored to their tall frames.
Why hadn’t Thorne warned me that Sterling would be coming?
My mind immediately went to the worst case scenario, painting an ugly picture of deceit and revenge.
Gran had warned me that the Hudsons might have been behind my admission to Heartstone, that they sought to destroy me like I had destroyed Juliana.
It was the anniversary of her death. This was the perfect opportunity to expose my shameful secret—in front of the most prestigious witches and warlocks in the community, no less.
Gran would be forced to watch the last of her legacy die, helpless to stop it.
If they wanted to crush the Mayweather name once and for all, this was the time to do it.
We were surrounded by hostiles, unable to escape even if we tried. The wards wouldn’t allow us to portal. We were trapped.
I focused on Thorne again, desperately trying to see past the aloof mask he wore. Had he only kept me alive so I wouldn’t die before this moment? So his family wouldn’t miss out on getting their own revenge?
It made sense. It all made sense.
The obsessive need to keep an eye on me, the growing frustration.
He’d been impatient for this moment, anticipating it.
He’d known that suicides often happened before trials, that the board was trying to reduce the casualty count.
He’d been in a meeting with Chancellor Grimshaw and the school board for hours, no doubt suggesting the idea of a gala himself.
Our sexual encounters had been his own personal revenge, but exposing me as a dangerous witch killer was a family matter.
He’d wanted them to come here, to witness for themselves the Mayweather’s final downfall.
And like a fool, I hadn’t figured it out until this very moment. Until it was too late.
His betrayal hit me hard, harder than I wanted to admit. It felt like he’d just brutally plunged a blade into my heart and was now watching me bleed out—like he’d undoubtedly wanted to do months ago.
The pain intensified when I realized that it could have been him.
Thorne could have placed that curse on me and then played the hero so as not to break our pactum.
Maybe my amulet hadn’t stopped the curse after all.
Maybe he had, reversing it for the sole purpose of breaking me down piece by piece, lulling me into a false sense of safety.
Making me trust him.
How could I have been so naive? So stupid? He’d been my enemy all this time, and I’d let him in anyway, so desperate not to be alone anymore that I’d ignored every warning sign.
Gran had told me to stay away from the Hudsons, but I’d failed to listen. Juliana had paid the price the first time, and now, it was my turn.
Dying on her death anniversary would be tragically poetic, though, I had to admit.
Despite the turmoil eating me up inside, self-preservation demanded I think of a way out of this.
Shadewalking was at the top of the list, but I heavily doubted that Thorne would let me sneak away.
He’d find me and drag me back like he was always threatening to do, forcing me to face my greatest fear, to pay for the sins I’d committed against his family.
I could practically hear him ordering me not to run. He couldn’t win if I did, and I knew how badly he wanted to win. Winning was everything to him, and he’d played me perfectly until the bitter end. I’d known he was ruthless, but this was downright diabolical.
He’d ruined me, all right. He’d bent and broken me, because I was his. I owed my life to him, and he’d taken it, claimed it. There was no undoing that now.
Running was pointless, because I’d already given him everything he needed to control me. He’d spent months training me, learning my weaknesses. I’d practically served myself up to him on a silver platter, begging him to destroy me.