Chapter 29 #2
Edith reared her head back to look at Thomasin properly. “Thomasin, no. You’re in no shape to go up and down those stairs again, or even crawl through the tunnel.”
Thomasin looked at her with that stone-hewed ruthless expression Edith had seen her use so often, but hardly ever with her since that very first meeting. “You don’t tell me what to do.”
Edith could never be scared of her, though. She tilted her chin up. “I’m not going to cause you any more harm.”
“I can handle it. I’ve been in worse shape.”
“No. You’ve already done too much for me. I won’t let you help me with this.”
Thomasin’s eyes darkened. Despite herself, Edith felt a flutter in her stomach.
Thomasin raised a derisive brow. “You think I’m helping you?
You are my only ticket off this island alive.
If you don’t come back out of that tomb, there is no deal with your father for my freedom.
I’m not helping you. I’m using you. This is how it was always meant to be. ”
“Fine, then,” Edith said, ignoring the fact that Thomasin’s words had taken her heart and crushed it into a pulpy, bloody mess.
She was also exceedingly grateful for the darkness, which hid the sheen of tears that blurred her vision.
Blinking them away as best as she could, she renewed her hold on Thomasin’s hip and said, “Let’s go. ”
The path to the entrance of the tomb would be forever etched in Edith’s mind.
It was hardly a challenge to navigate back to it now, even at night.
When they arrived at the cliff, Edith helped boost Thomasin into the tunnel.
She pretended not to notice Thomasin wincing when her torso landed on the packed dirt.
Edith thought that to comment on it would just embarrass her, make her feel coddled.
Before, Thomasin had seemed to appreciate the way Edith cared for her.
She didn’t think enough people had treated Thomasin gently, and Edith was eager to correct that.
But she had broken that trust, and now Thomasin’s pride was up like a shield.
Edith had to earn back the privilege of Thomasin’s vulnerability.
Until then, she would ignore Thomasin’s muffled groans and sharp breaths.
The sharp crack of a twig snapping cut through the night.
Edith paused, her hands on the lip of the tunnel.
She scanned the shadows, looking for any sign of movement, but saw nothing.
Only the leaves rustling gently in the wind.
With a growing sense of foreboding, Edith realized that their laborious trek would have left an easy trail to follow.
Edith could only hope that Worthing was still occupied with her father.
With Thomasin in such bad shape, Worthing would easily overpower them.
She held her breath, waiting for a figure to emerge from the trees.
After another moment of heavy stillness, her pulse thundering, she looked away and lifted herself into the tunnel.
As she shimmied her body into the darkness, she half expected a hand to snatch out, grab her feet, and yank her back out. Nothing halted her, though.
Edith’s theory about Thomasin was only proven more correct when they arrived at the staircase.
Gone was any trace of Thomasin’s fear. One arm slung over Edith’s shoulder, she marched them across the landing and onto the first step.
Edith made sure to keep an iron-tight hold on Thomasin.
Unlike their last descent, neither of them spoke.
The stale air and pitch-dark pressed in on them until finally that little glow flickered below them.
The landing was comfortably solid beneath Edith’s feet, and she went straight toward the nondescript sarcophagus.
After running her hand across the length of it, she shrugged off her satchel and took out her grandmother’s urn.
It would be strange to part from it once and for all.
Her thumbnail picked at the wax seal, bits of it falling at her feet.
“I’ll give you some privacy,” Thomasin muttered. Edith watched her out of the corner of her eye as she ducked under the archway at the center of the mural and into the amethyst room.
All the wax gone, the lid came off with a gentle click.
“I know it’s not Avalon,” Edith said to the storm-gray powder that was once her favorite person in the world.
“But Merlin’s tomb is really something. I think you’ll like it here.
” A tear slipped from her cheek and fell into the ashes, forming a dark, wet clump.
Edith reached a hand into the urn and took a fistful.
A violent burst of pain exploded against her temple, flinging her head to the side. The ashes went flying, and the urn slipped through her fingers. It shattered against the ground.
An arm wrapped around her middle. She kicked against whoever held her, but her back was pinned against their front. Edith opened her mouth to scream for Thomasin, but the cold press of a blade against her throat silenced her.
Worthing spoke right next to her ear, but his voice was loud. “Come on out, Thomasin. It’s time we finish this.”