Chapter 18
Vivian’s Point of View
Rule eighteen: If you’re going to commit an unforgivable atrocity, at least have the decency to make it look cool.
I’m out of time.
I’m not sure why I thought the potions would be labeled in English. Hell, I would have cheered at a hastily drawn stick figure.
No such luck.
So, given the whole ‘I have exactly zero time to figure out what to take’ predicament, I tried to grab a potion of every color, slipping them inside the small pouches I’d tied inside my skirts. As far as plans go, it was a solid win. Except, of course, for one small detail.
None of the potions did a thing.
Last night, the moment Leon fell asleep, I got to work. I tried each of the liquids on my door. When nothing happened, I started desperately mixing them. All I had to show for my efforts was a sticky mess.
Still, I didn’t give up hope. This morning, when Leon dropped me off with Nymara, I decided I would go all or nothing and try to convince her to help me.
Only now, I’m convinced she’s the one who needs help.
Things started off fairly decently. Other than a slight strain in her voice when she asked if I’d read the books she gave me, she seemed sane. When I apologized, saying I haven’t made the time yet, she seemed annoyed and settled down with a drawing pad and pencil.
Foolishly, I let myself hope that she was over whatever episode she was suffering from yesterday – until she showed me her picture. It was a crudely drawn bird, eating some kind of enlarged, mutant worm. Her eyes were wide when she all but shoved the drawing into my arms.
Speechless, I accepted the drawing.
At my silence, her eye started twitching, and she stormed over to the other side of the room. Still clutching her pencil, she started tapping the wall. She kept repeating the same pattern, over and over, pausing to glance back at me every time, as if to make sure I was watching.
Every time, she looked at me like she thought I was a moron.
Hurtful.
I don’t care if Dr. Parnard isn’t a real therapist; I’m referring her.
Or I would, if I thought I was going to survive the next hour. Because, of course, Leon chose that moment to stride into the sitting room.
He’s wearing the same blue silk shirt with golden accents that he was wearing this morning, but now he’s left a few of the buttons undone, and his hair isn’t tied back. I think he’s trying to appear more casual, but not even loungewear could hide his eerie anticipation.
“Vivian, my love. Come, I want to show you something.”
He holds out a hand, and I throw a desperate look at Nymara, silently pleading with her to help me find a way out of this. She’s gone back to staring at the floor and pretending she isn’t here.
My shoulders slump.
Where is your frienemy’s psychotic break when you need it?
“Leon, sorry, I-” I start, trying to find a reason for him to leave.
“Don’t say another word. Come, pet,” Leon insists, and this time the mental leash forces me to comply.
Dread continues to coil around me as he leads us through an unfamiliar part of the castle. He talks the entire time, explaining how well the Council meetings have been going.
He’s disturbingly cheerful, and I tune him out after the fifth time he boasts about how much respect we are going to command, now that we are the face of the new era.
He only pauses his soliloquy when we reach a set of doors that lead outside. “Close your eyes, I want this to be a surprise,” he orders.
In what universe is telling the uncoordinated person not to look where they are going a good idea?
He tugs my hand, and I stumble down a step that he did nothing to warn me about.
The warm breeze lifts the corners of my purple chiffon dress, and the sun warms my exposed arms. The ground is soft beneath my feet, so I know we aren’t on the main path, but I have no idea where he’s taking me.
We walk for long enough that I assume we must be on the edge of the Council’s wards before Leon finally stops. “Open your eyes, Vivian.”
Blinking at the bright light, I take in the small, well-manicured clearing. Large willow-looking trees surround us, their branches creating a wall of privacy. They’re dense enough that it’s impossible to see beyond the clearing.
I gulp at how secluded it is. But I’m guessing Leon wants me to focus on what’s in the center of the clearing. Blankets and pillows are scattered across the ground, and there’s also a basket, along with some food spread out over one corner.
Does no one here worry about ants?
“Surprise, my love.” He pulls me forward and settles me on a blanket. “I wanted to do something special for us so that we could celebrate. The servants assured me this place is private, and that we won’t be disturbed or overheard.”
Whatever he wants to celebrate, I guarantee it could have been an email.
“But first, I have something for you.” He flashes me a dazzling smile as he settles beside me.
I watch, still on force-mute, as he reaches into the basket and pulls out a small rectangular box.
With a flourish, he pops open the lid to reveal the contents.
It’s a necklace, made from row upon row of glittering diamonds.
In the center is a blue gem, almost the size of a golf ball.
It looks like the one Leon has on his sword.
“It’s our family’s stone. Blue diamonds. One of the most coveted gems in all the realms.” He stares at me expectantly, and I stare, frozen in dread.
When I say nothing, he leans in closer to whisper. “I can see you’re excited.” His warm breath fans across my neck, just before his fingers brush against my pulse point.
This goes beyond having the heebie jeebies. I am not okay. I want a chaperone.
He pauses for another moment and then gives a small laugh. “I almost forgot you can’t speak. That simply won’t do. I can’t wait to hear how much you love me. You may speak, Vivian.”
I’m not sure if Leon is just so self-obsessed that he can’t imagine a possibility where I won’t magically fall for him, or if he is truly this delusional. Either way, I need to figure out a way to put him off just a little longer.
My mouth is dry, and I clear my throat. “Thank you.” I try to sound grateful for the ridiculous jewels, even as my entire body tenses.
“Of course, nothing but the best for my pet. Fates, I have missed you so much. But I knew it was for the better, the space between us. Because now you’ve had time to think on things, without the added distraction of the temptation between us.
” He’s staring at me like there isn’t even a hint of doubt in his mind that I won’t return his affections.
He’s certain.
I’m also certain.
Certainly fucked.
When I don’t throw myself into his arms or show any kind of agreement, Leon’s smile drops, replaced by a flat expression. “You cannot be serious.”
Internally, I cringe. This is not going to go well. “Leon, I don’t–”
“No!” He explodes, throwing the necklace down. “I have given you plenty of time. I have been working hard, each and every day, to build our future. The only thing you need to do is accept me. Literally everything else is taken care of. Why in the Fates are you being so fucking difficult?”
His anger is radiating off him in waves, and I immediately panic at the thought that he’s about to use the leash to demand my honesty.
Not good.
“No! No, no, no. You misunderstand!” I urge, wide-eyed.
I’m assuming he sees pretty doe eyes. It’s actually terror, but hey, potato, poh-tah-toh.
“I just… I want it to be special!” I blurt. When he doesn’t immediately jump down my throat, I continue, “There’s a tradition, in the Mortal Realm, where couples wait until after marriage, and I was hoping–”
“Fates, Vivian. You aren’t a fucking virgin, and you aren’t a fucking mortal. You. Are. Mine. Eternally. Stop fighting us,” he snaps, gripping my chin.
Up until now, some part of me has held on to the hope that I would get one more day, one more chance to make things right.
But I’m out of time.
That realization unravels the last threads of caution that are keeping me in line. It’s do or die, and at this point, I’m desperate enough to gamble my life away.
“What if I play you for it? Winner takes all,” I ask, trying to pass off my fear as playfulness.
A furrow forms in his brow, but he releases my chin. “What do you mean, a game? Vivian, you’re being childish.” His back stiffens as he says it.
I raise a brow. “Maybe I am, but you could have controlled my mind the moment I arrived here, and you didn’t. So, either you want something from me, or you don’t actually want to marry a mindless slave. I think you like to win, and now, I’m giving you the chance.”
His eyes flare, clearly excited by the prospect. “What do you have in mind?”
“Simple. I want to play hide-and-seek. You give me complete run of the Council grounds, no escort. We aren’t allowed to ask anyone for help; otherwise, the person forfeits the game.
If I can evade you until nightfall, then you have to wait until after our wedding to get intimate. If–” I start, but he interrupts.
“You can’t go around the castle without an escort.” He sounds irritated.
I continue, pretending I didn’t hear him. “If you find me before sunset, you can have me. All of me. The moment you catch me.”
I don’t have the stomach to try to seduce Leon. So instead, I level him with a challenging stare.
There’s an almost wild look in his eyes, the feral possessiveness that I know lurks within him edging closer to the surface. His eyes rake over me again, clearly thinking about what he would do to me, the moment he won.
I shrug, and it’s almost dainty. “Unless, of course, you don’t think you can find me,” I add with a taunting smirk.
Leon takes a deep inhale, his eyes lingering on my neck, before snapping down to my engagement ring.
“You have a thirty-minute head start. Do not leave the Council wards.” He adds the second part as an order.
My pulse quickens, and I spring up. “How are we going to ensure the guards don’t interfere?”
His grin turns feral. “That’s your problem, not mine. Run, little mouse.”
I sprint.
It takes me no time to find the castle, and only a few extra minutes to orient myself. Slowing to a power walk, I start to make a lap, searching for a specific door.
At this point, there’s only one place in the castle where I have even a chance of finding Irena.
Something in the old prison was calling to me, and if it wasn’t her, then maybe it’s someone who can help.
Either way, Cassandra’s memories had better help me super-spy the fuck out of this game, or I am beyond screwed.
The smell of roasting meats hits me, and I know I’m in the right place. When I played this game with Sin, he mentioned being able to smell me. But I think I have a way around that.
Sure, Leon can just track my engagement ring, which I’m not allowed to take off, but I have a plan for that, too.
The kitchen is bustling with servants. Some give me curious glances, but most never look up from their work. Either they’re focused on the task at hand, or they heard what happened to Kenzie.
I swallow thickly as I hustle through them, only slowing to grab what I need. An onion, an old cloth, a butcher knife, and some matches from beside one of the cooking fires.
It takes another minute of poking through the pantries until I find one stocked with alcohol. I take a few that are filled with clear fluid.
Hopefully it’s something strong.
‘You need to blend in,’ Cassandra’s memory urges.
Not needing to be told twice, I keep looking until I spot a hamper with soiled uniforms. Grabbing one, I slip back into the empty pantry and swap my clothing. Then, I chop the onion and rub the pieces all over my hair and skin.
Scent that, asshole.
My eyes are tearing up, but I don’t let it slow me down as I sprint through the servant passages. A few minutes later, I find familiar ground and make my way back to the library.
Every fiber of my being is revolting against what I’m going to do. But if I’m going to evade Leon, then I need a diversion.
Books are the answer.
Unfortunately, that’s because they’re flammable, and fire makes an excellent diversion. I don’t even think I’ve seen fire alarms in this place.
Major oversight on their part.
Once I’m deep inside the sacred space and surrounded by shelves, I find a small desk and put down my stolen goods.
Yet again, I am seriously missing Google. Hopefully, television did its research, since I’m about to take ‘as seen on TV’ at its most literal sense.
Opening the bottles, I pour all but one over the surrounding shelves.
I’m so sorry, books.
Since I’m not sure whether the alcohol will explode when I light it on fire, I save the last bottle. Quickly, I soak my rag in alcohol, shoving half of it into the bottle in an attempt at making a Molotov cocktail.
In Hollywood, we trust?
Now that the easy part is done, I pause to take a few shuddering inhales, psyching myself up for what comes next.
I’m wasting time.
My friends, my realms, my home.
The mantra is enough to remind me exactly who is at stake.
‘Gag yourself,’ Cassandra’s memory yells.
Shoving a book between my teeth, I lay my ring finger over the table, keeping my other digits pointed at the floor.
I will not fail them.
Before I can think any further on how much this is going to hurt, I pick up the butcher knife and slam it down onto my finger.
White hot agony detonates through me, and I scream into the book so hard that my teeth ache. Sobbing, I refuse to look down at my hand. Nausea rises in my gut, and I fight the urge to throw up. But adrenaline hits me a breath later, and despite my trembling fingers, I try to light a match.
It takes me four tries.
I light the rag.
Please. Please burn.
The alcohol-soaked material goes up in flames, and I only have a moment to toss the DIY grenade.
Glass shatters, and the fire erupts. There’s no explosion, but the flames immediately ignite the alcohol, creating a raging hall of fire.
It spreads quickly, and I finally look down long enough to grab my dismembered finger.
I toss it into the flames. The diamond shimmers in the firelight, and I can only hope Leon thinks I’m burning.
Already, the pain in my hand has lessened slightly. The skin is knitting back together, forming a stump where I was gushing blood only moments before. My brow lifts, impressed, despite the circumstances.
More shelves catch fire, and the entire back end of the library starts going up in flames. The heat is getting unbearable as the fire licks closer, reminding me that I’m in a bit of a hurry. I give a final, longing look at the burning pages, and my inner bookworm sobs.
I feel like the asshole who burned down the Library of Alexandria.
I will never forgive myself for this. But I will burn a thousand libraries if it means keeping my loved ones safe.
Turning on my heel, I run.