Chapter 18
THERE’S NO REASON
CORA
Ihaven’t done many dangerous things, a fact that would probably surprise people.
Being an escaped murderer and a traitorous witch, many would assume I like to live recklessly.
The truth is, I rarely make impulsive decisions.
I am typically cautious, detached, and above all, strategic.
If I do something, it’s for the big picture, for the greater good, or at least the lesser evil.
I don’t do things for myself, for selfish want or greed… but today, I’m not sure that’s true.
This morning, I’m fussing over my reflection in the ornate bathroom mirror. I’m tucking my hair behind my ears, then undoing it. Then throwing my hair in its tight ponytail after I’m positive I look ridiculous with it down.
As much as I’m tempted to lie to myself, I know I’m not going on this quest for Sebastian and the vampires. I’m not following Elliot into the unknown with the selfless determination to make sunwalker spells.
Truthfully, I’m not convinced Elliot’s ingredient will change much at all. I’ve done more than a decade of research on the sun curse, on its different properties and rituals, and I highly doubt there’s some unknown ingredient I missed.
No, the secret ingredient is nothing more than a convenient excuse. It is a way to ease my guilt, to clear my conscience if I’m discovered.
If.
I sound like a fool. I am a fool.
Whether Amelia tells him or not, Sebastian will come looking for me at some point today. He’ll be expecting to reprimand me and my overnight visitor. Instead, he’ll only find this scrawled note, posted haphazardly on the door to my quarters.
Master,
Following a lead. I shall return in four days, five at the most. I have everything under control.
Respectfully,
Cora Reed
Resident Witch
Elliot stands at my side as I fasten it to the door with a slightly bent tack. He raises both eyebrows when I glance back at him.
“Don’t say a word,” I command. “I’ve always called him Master, all right? I always will. So—”
“I’m actually judging your signature. ‘Resident witch’? Is that your official position title?” he asks. “I assumed it was more of a pet name.”
“Do I look like a pet?” I ask. Then, before he can respond, I turn on my heel and storm down the elongated hallway.
Elliot keeps close behind me, his hand slightly lifted, floating near my waist, as though prepared to grab me. To protect me? Doubtful. To use me as a meat shield? Probably.
“Once we—”
I quiet him with a wave of my hand. Then, pressing my index finger to my lips, I look pointedly around us. Elliot nods. It isn’t until we’re out of the manor, walking in the chilly air of early morning, that he speaks again.
“Do you want to put that in my pack?” he asks.
I follow his gaze to my messenger bag. It’s the same one I always use: a canvas bag with a long shoulder strap. Within it, I’ve packed the memory stone, two jars, and all the needed ingredients.
Nothing to clean my teeth or brush my hair. No food or drinking water. Not so much as a blanket for nightfall.
I’m an absolute fool, and there’s genuinely no excuse. I accepted this adventure on pure, selfish impulse. I saw an opportunity to see Elliot beyond the walls of Sebastian’s manor, and I took it.
Not for his mama’s ingredient.
Not for Sebastian and the vampires.
Not for the satisfaction of foiling the witches’ curse.
But for this. To walk beside someone who once knew me better than anyone, and loved me as I was. To feel his presence without worrying something will happen to him for being beside me.
Out here, there are no threats, not like the ones within the manor. I’m strong enough to fend off an attack in daylight, and Elliot has a plan for nightfall.
“Cora?” he asks. He shifts, his tall frame slipping into view. Something about that heavy pack makes him seem even larger than he typically does. He could probably carry my bag and me. I wonder whether he would, if I asked.
“I’ll carry it,” I say. Despite my chaotic thoughts, my voice is calm. Steady. There’s even the typical undertone of annoyance clipping through the words.
“Afraid I’ll steal the memories?” he asks. His legs are long, and I have to walk twice as many steps to keep pace with him. I wonder if now is a good time to inform him how out of shape I am.
Yet another thing I should have considered before agreeing.
“Of course,” I say. “Just because you won’t kill me, doesn’t mean you won’t fuck me over.”
He lets out a breathy scoff, something between a laugh and a groan. We walk in silence after that, surrounded only by the sound of our boots on rough stone. The crisp morning air warms slowly, but soon enough, the sun stretches high into the sky, and we pause to remove our jackets.
This time, when Elliot offers to carry my jacket, I don’t protest. I hand it over, feeling a strange twist in my stomach when he carefully folds it into his bag, right over his own.
“You don’t have to carry it,” I say, even as he’s tying the pack closed. “I can carry my own—”
“Can I ask you something?” he interrupts. He straightens and adjusts the pack between his shoulders. “And try to be honest, all right? I know that’s against your nature, but at least try.”
“What’s your question?” I ask pointedly. I straighten my shoulders as we start walking again, letting my mask fall back into place. To him, I likely look untouchable.
I pretend it’s true.
“Did you steal them?” he asks.
I lift a brow, turning to him in surprise. Of all the things I thought he might ask, that wasn’t one. I figured he’d ask about Harrison or my imprisonment or even our sordid love affair as teenagers.
“Your memories?” I ask. Then, following his nod, “I think we’ve already established that, haven’t we?”
We stare at each other as we walk. His jaw ticks as he looks over me.
“I swear, I haven’t taken anything more,” I say. My eyebrow is still lifted, but a sickening twist clenches my gut. “You should know I took them, Elliot. We already—”
“I didn’t ask if you took them,” he says, cutting me off. “I asked if you stole them. Did you take them without permission? Or did…did I…”
He trails off, and despite my best efforts, I can’t keep my gaze on him.
I look ahead, at the mountains towering above us.
The Flight Realm belongs to the dragons, to the harpies, to the frightening winged ghouls.
Where the Night Realm is dark rock and beautiful decay, the Flight Realm is soft sand and rigid mountains and the ever-present scent of dust and land scorched by dragon fire.
Sometimes, I imagine what my life would be like, had I been born not to the witches, but to the dragon riders. Even if I weren’t fit to fly, I like to imagine my life would have been better there. I wouldn’t be dangerous, not like I am here.
“Cora,” he says. He slows his steps, but I shake my head, pressing forward with longer strides.
My heart beats too fast, until I’m almost sickened by my own pulse.
“Is that what this is?” I ask without looking at him. “Is this a fake quest, Elliot? Are you actually just planning to interrogate me while we walk?”
“Fuck,” is his muttered response. From my peripheral, I watch as he runs a strong hand through his hair. It tousles, only momentarily, before falling back into place. That damned curl hanging near his furrowed brow.
“Let’s just focus on where we’re going,” I say. My voice is sharp but weak, as brittle as a thin stone. “I’m not answering anything.”
“I gave them to you,” he says. He laughs, but it’s clear he’s not amused. He’s horrified. Haunted. “Fuck.”
“Elliot,” I say, but I realize I have nothing to follow up with. There’s a lie at the edge of my lips, but something stops me from speaking it. I fidget with the realization that I’m exhausted. Tired of lying. Tired of twisting reality to protect us.
“Fuck,” he says again. This time, when I try to talk, he waves me off. “I think you’re right. Let’s just focus on where we’re going.”
We trek for hours. We don’t speak unless Elliot has a comment on our direction. A little more to the east, he’ll say. That’s where we’re headed. Toward that peak.
I spend most of the walk wondering where the hells we could be going.
It’s clear we’re going somewhere in the Flight Realm, but it doesn’t appear to be toward any sort of town.
We bypass the settlement where Sebastian’s closest Flight Realm ally lives, and for that, I’m grateful.
If Nicassi saw me parading around with some unknown witch, he’d run straight to Sebastian, likely dragging me with him.
I scowl. Would Nicassi do that? Would he throw me over his shoulder like I’m one of Sebastian’s lost possessions? Or would he look the other way, take our own friendship into consideration?
“What’s wrong?” Elliot asks from beside me.
The sun is high in the sky now, and despite the late autumn season, it’s warm.
Too warm. I’m sweating through my long sleeves, and my tights feel like heavy wool blankets.
We haven’t stopped to take a rest or to drink water since we’ve started, but obviously I’m not going to be the one to ask for a break.
I’m not sure we even have water.
“Cora?” he says. His steps slow, then stagger to a stop.
I have no choice but to do the same. Or, maybe I do. Maybe I’m just that desperate for an excuse to stop walking.
My legs ache, calves cramping with each step. It’s shameful to admit how little I exercise my muscles. Right now, they’re operating purely on adrenaline and pride.
“Nothing,” I say. I prop my hands on my hips, then touch one to my face. Sure enough. “I’m sweating.”
“Yeah,” Elliot says. He shrugs his pack off his shoulders and unbuttons the top. He rummages through the bag before finally pulling out a rectangular canister. He untwists the top and offers it to me.
It’s nice that he’s giving me the first drink. It makes me scowl harder.
“It’s not poisoned,” he says with a hefty sigh. “Here, look—”