Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Thomasin was slumped on the floor, leaning back against the pedestal at the center of the amethyst room.
It was the only comfortable place. She was too exhausted to stand, and the crystal walls were too pointy to rest against. Making it down those stairs had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done.
She had been more than happy to give Edith space because it meant she would also have a moment to catch her breath.
But then Worthing’s voice shattered the peace and quiet.
Any trace of exhaustion fled from Thomasin’s body as ice shivered down her spine and adrenaline shot through her veins.
Worthing was in the tomb with Edith. Thomasin jerked her feet underneath her.
She felt as though she were trudging through mud, unable to move quickly enough.
She had to get to Edith. And yet she was also terrified of what she might find.
The strange urge to bury her head in the sand nipped at her too-slow heels.
If Worthing had hurt her, if he had already killed her, Thomasin would fall to pieces. All the terrible things she had seen in her life, and Thomasin knew that Edith dead at her feet would be the one thing that could finally break her.
An hour ago, Thomasin had told Edith she was just using her, that she didn’t care that Edith would have to sacrifice herself to a life that she hated.
Thomasin had wanted to make it clear she didn’t care about Edith anymore.
Of course, it was a lie. Thomasin was blood-burningly angry, but that didn’t stop her loving Edith.
In all honesty, Thomasin hadn’t known what she’d planned to do when they made it off the island. Would she let Edith follow through with the deal and return home with her father? Would she let Edith go? Or would she steal her away and forgive her?
Now, as Thomasin raced across the amethyst room, she might never get the chance to decide. All thanks to fucking Worthing.
He had one hand across Edith’s forehead, yanking her head back against his shoulder. His other hand held a dagger to her throat. Rage colored her vision bright red, but at the edges of that storm there was relief. Edith was still breathing.
“That’s close enough,” Worthing barked as Thomasin neared the archway to the tomb.
She ignored him, but when a thin line of blood bloomed across Edith’s neck and a cry escaped her lips, Thomasin skidded to a stop just before the threshold.
“One more step, and I’ll bleed her out right in front of you. ”
“What’s your plan, Worthing?” Thomasin mustered up the bravado that had always kept her alive, but she couldn’t hide the desperation clawing at her. It seeped into every one of her words. “You’re gonna kill her here, and then what? Sell her dead body back to her father?”
Worthing didn’t seem to register her words. Instead, he narrowed his eyes at her, pure disgust curling his lips. “You’re like a cockroach. No matter what I do, I can never seem to be rid of you. But you know the best way to get a cockroach? A trap. And this looks like a mighty fine cage to me.”
“I gave you the syndicate. We could have just let each other go. We could’ve both won. I was going to let you win,” Thomasin growled.
“That’s not victory. I don’t win until you’re dead.”
Thomasin huffed a short, bitter laugh. “Look at you, following me across the country. If anyone’s a cockroach, it’s you.”
“Well, I do intend to survive,” Worthing acquiesced.
“And to do that, I’m going to leave you down here, where you’ll never be able to ruin my life again.
The beauty of this is that it’ll be easy.
As long as I have this bitch beneath my knife, you’ll do whatever I say.
” He tightened his fingers against Edith’s skin.
“I told Marshall it would end this way. I told him that you would be too soft.”
“Congratulations,” Thomasin said, her entire body snapping with anger. “You’re right. But I’m glad I failed Marshall. He didn’t deserve my loyalty.”
Worthing shrugged, the casualness of the gesture so at odds with the rigid way he held his body. “And so you will die—disloyal, weak, and forgotten.”
“No,” Edith panted, her throat scraping the knife. “No, please. No.”
Worthing ignored her. “Tell me how you opened that passageway, or I’ll slit her throat right now.”
Thomasin’s heart pounded. She had called so many bluffs in her life, and it had always been easy because she never cared about losing. But this she couldn’t bear.
“Don’t tell him!” Edith gasped.
Worthing pulled her neck back even farther, causing Edith to sputter and choke. Her fists opened and closed at her sides, grasping at nothing.
“This is your last chance, Thomasin. Tell me, or you will watch her die.”
When Thomasin said nothing, Worthing pushed the blade harder into Edith’s neck. A gasp escaped her mouth before she clamped her lips together. But Thomasin could see her whole body go stiff with pain. Worthing was cutting slowly, the knife digging at her flesh, blood welling around the iron.
“The staff!” Thomasin shouted.
Worthing paused, raising a single eyebrow.
“We put the staff in the statue,” Thomasin gritted out, her shoulders rising and falling with each heavy breath. “That’s how we raised the door.”
“Interesting.” Worthing cocked his head to the side.
With the hand that wasn’t currently holding a dagger to Edith’s throat, he unholstered his pistol.
Unfortunately, Worthing’s aim had always been sure.
His skill rivaled Thomasin herself. He fired at the statue.
The bullet cracked through the middle of the staff, breaking it jaggedly in two.
The top half fell from Merlin’s hand, and the bottom half toppled to the ground.
The crystal shattered into a shimmering dust.
Thomasin almost thought that nothing would happen. She should have known better. Luck had never been on her side. Not with all the terrible things she had done in her short life.
A clunky, mechanical noise shuddered through the tomb.
The stone panel slid down from the ceiling, beginning its slow descent back to the ground.
With the knife still at Edith’s neck, Thomasin was trapped.
She had no choice but to stay in the amethyst room and watch herself be entombed forever.
If these were her last moments of freedom, she would not waste them.
She looked at Edith. The wall continued to fall.
It blocked Worthing’s face, but not Edith’s yet.
Thomasin wanted to savor every second before this last beautiful sight was taken too.
There were tears streaking down Edith’s face, and panic flared in her eyes.
She struggled against Worthing’s grip, every one of her muscles pulled taut.
When the panel passed over the crown of Edith’s head, something happened.
Something all the more terrifying than that merciless wall falling.
Thomasin watched as Edith’s body relaxed.
Her chest rose and fell with a deep breath.
Just before the wall blocked her view of Edith’s eyes, Thomasin saw the fear ice over.
Edith wasn’t scared anymore, and for the first time since Worthing kicked away the staff, Thomasin was breathless with terror.
There was nothing Thomasin could do to stop her. Edith’s fingers curled around the dagger that was still tucked into her belt. Perhaps with the wall now halfway down, Worthing had lowered his guard, because Edith was able to surprise him. Thomasin dropped to her knees, afraid to look away.
Edith kicked her heel into Worthing’s groin.
His knees buckled. Edith’s feet pivoted, pulling away from his hold.
Her arm swung downward. The knife slashed across the back of his knees.
Worthing crashed to the ground. His hands reached out, scrambling to catch hold of Edith, but she danced out of his reach.
And then she did the one thing that Thomasin was afraid of above all else.
Edith ran for the ever-narrowing gap between the falling wall and the floor.
“No!” Thomasin roared.
But Edith’s focus was single-minded. The gap was barely two feet now. Thomasin was on all fours, screaming at Edith. All she could see was her knees, her shins, her feet pounding against the earth.
Edith slid feet first, her heels sending up a cloud of dirt and dust.
The wall met the ground with a final, deafening thunk.
Thomasin choked out a sob. On trembling limbs, she crawled to Edith. Her arms were over her head, and she was curled into a little ball, a mere inch away from the wall. A second later, and she would have been crushed.
Yanking Edith’s hands away from her head, Thomasin pulled her up so that she was sitting. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Thomasin was crying now. She shook Edith. Hard. “Why would you do this?”
Edith was crying too. Great heaving sobs.
She could barely get her words out around them.
“I couldn’t let you die.” The same thing she had said over and over again at the church.
But this time, there was more. She gulped, and her lips shook as she spoke.
“I couldn’t let you die without knowing how much I love you. ”
Thomasin’s head bowed, her face crumpling.
“I couldn’t let you die alone,” Edith whispered.
Because that was the thing, wasn’t it? They were going to die.
But that wasn’t the reason Thomasin was sobbing like she never had before.
Edith hadn’t run into the amethyst room because she thought she could save them.
Edith had sacrificed herself, condemned herself to a terrible death, just so Thomasin would know she was loved.
It was a choice that couldn’t be undone.
Theirs was a love that couldn’t be undone.
Thomasin would die in peace, if it weren’t for one thing.
She looked up at Edith’s beautiful face.
The single candle cast harsh shadows across her soft cheeks and the gentle curve of her jaw.
Thomasin took her face between her hands, her thumbs brushing away the steady stream of tears.
“You’re not meant to die here,” she said, quietly but firmly.
“Neither are you.” Edith dropped her forehead against Thomasin’s. “But if we have no choice, then let’s have no choice together.”
Thomasin tilted her chin. Their lips were breaths apart. Just as she was about to surrender, about to close that cursed gap, a burst of light illuminated Edith’s face. For a mad second, Thomasin thought she had imagined it. But Edith’s eyes widened, and Thomasin knew she was seeing it too.
That single orange glow had suddenly been replaced by a beaming white inferno that flooded the room with light and had the crystals sparkling like stars. Thomasin pulled back, her eyes drawn to the source.
Upon the pedestal, where there had once been a single torch, there was now a floating orb of brilliant light. It was impossible, and yet there it was before her very eyes. As if entranced, both women rose to their feet and moved toward the pedestal.
Thomasin ghosted her fingers around the fuzzy edges of the glow, but jerked her hand away when her fingertips met with scorching heat.
Edith stared into the center of it, awestruck.
There was nothing Thomasin could say that would make even the slightest sense, and so they watched in silence as eventually the light began to fade, and the orb flickered and shrunk into nothing.
A shocked, euphoric laugh escaped from deep within Thomasin’s chest.
The orb was gone, but so was the torch.
Sitting at the center of the pedestal was a gear. It was polished and pure white.
“A sacrifice made for love,” Edith murmured. “To enter Avalon, you must no longer fear death.”
Thomasin lifted the gear from the pedestal and handed it to Edith. She held it in her hands like it was a holy object as she approached the door that had prematurely ended their quest.
Right there, just above the spoked wheel at the center of the door, was the empty space amid the intricate patchwork of gears. Edith lifted the gear to the door, and it slotted in just right, the teeth locking into place with the other gears.
Edith closed her hand around the center wheel, then looked at Thomasin. “Together,” she said, nodding her head toward the door.
Thomasin came up beside her. She took hold of the wheel, the tip of her thumb grazing Edith’s hand.
Together, they spun the handle, and with a great groaning sigh, the door swung open. Thomasin could see only shadows beyond the threshold, but they had grown accustomed to charging headfirst into the dark.
Thomasin and Edith wove their fingers together and walked through the gates of Avalon.
When her foot passed over the threshold, she became aware of only two things. First, a blinding light. And second, by the time Thomasin’s feet found solid ground on the other side, every single one of her injuries had been completely, utterly healed.