Chapter 6

Seven days later, Seraph Sinclair came.

She was a witch, skilled in astrology, with an entire ancient witch clan at her back. She was also my only real friend.

Six months ago, on a whim, she had told me she was going to travel the world, and then she'd vanished.

She had only come back yesterday, bringing me a whole trunk of souvenirs from every country she'd passed through.

Seraph wore a long silk gown in powder blue, twirling her purple curls around her diamond-tipped nails as she talked.

I listened, fascinated, as she told me about the road, the people of every shade she'd met, the seas and snowy peaks and the hawks circling above the steppes.

When she was done, she licked her lips, lifted her teacup for a sip, and then asked, half-joking, "Isolde, your servants are saying Cyrus came out of that human girl's room this morning. Is that true?

"What kind of fairy-tale nonsense is that." Seraph doubled over laughing.

Then she caught my expression and the laugh died on her lips. Her eyes went round with shock. "No. Don't tell me they were telling the truth?"

Seraph leaned closer, watching for my reaction.

I nodded and gave a thin, wry smile.

Apparently it wasn't a very convincing smile, because Seraph reached out and cupped my face in both hands. "Oh, Isolde. Tell me, did that bastard hurt you?"

I gave her a brief account of what had been happening.

The more Seraph heard, the graver her face became.

By the end, every trace of her teasing was gone.

"Isolde, listen to me." She looked me in the eyes, her voice firm. "Cyrus, that ancient creature who's been alive for thousands of years has less emotional sense than a stray dog on the street.

"He uses your past to wound you and puts you through this... He doesn't deserve to stay by your side another day."

I looked at her concerned face and let myself smile. "Seraph, thank you."

Seraph waved a hand. "You are not going to let him push you around, you hear me? I've got your back."

"All right," I said. "Actually, there's a favor I want to ask of you."

"Okey. What favor? Curse the bastard?" Seraph agreed first and asked questions after.

I looked at her. "I've made up my mind to leave this place."

"Leaving? You're sure?" Seraph's eyes went wide.

"Yes. Leaving." I nodded. "I've been tied to Thornhold Castle for a hundred years. Whatever debt I owed, I've more or less repaid. And Cyrus never really tied me down, did he?"

It had been my own fault, all along. I had bound myself up in impossible, ridiculous hopes.

Ever since that last time, when I had healed the wounds the werewolves had left on Cyrus, certain things had come clear to me.

Asking him to send Elena away had been my last small flicker of unwilling hope.

And since even that hope had come to nothing, I supposed it was time to say goodbye.

Seraph came out of her shock and broke into a smile of her own. "That's my Isolde. Exactly right. You can't sit here being Cyrus's personal medicine cabinet for the rest of your life, can you?"

She clapped her hands. "Go travel. I'll handle the visa and the plane ticket. You can see a few of the neighboring countries, learn some things, meet new people."

After I saw Seraph off, I sat in silence for a long time.

Some answers are already there in front of you, but it takes a long time to recognize them. Other answers, the ones you want, you have to work for.

Like the way Cyrus always sent me roses.

And yet I had never known what flower I actually liked.

Now, I wanted to go find out.

Late at night, three days from now.

I stood at the gates of Thornhold Castle. I had traded my elaborate gowns for a simple shirt and jeans, and I was rolling a single suitcase behind me.

Seraph worked fast. In three days she had every arrangement made.

She told me she had cast a reading for my future.

The cards had shown her the direction I needed to go. If I went, there would be a result that would delight me beyond measure.

So now I was a history major on her way to study in Veyra.

Just as I was about to leave, I heard footsteps behind me.

"You're leaving, Isolde?" A soft, demure voice.

It was Elena.

She was wearing a white silk nightgown, the night wind catching at its hem, her whole figure as slender and fragile as a lily.

"You win." I said it calmly.

Elena tilted her head slightly, a faint smile on her lips made her pure and breakable at once.

"Miss Isolde," she said, "do you know why he chose me?"

I said nothing.

"Because you're too much like him," Elena went on. "He doesn't want an equal. You're too stubborn. How is he supposed to protect you?"

Elena's eyes curved with a smile, a flicker of triumph she couldn't quite hide. "Miss Isolde, you never beat me because you were wrong from the very start... But it isn't your fault. Even Cyrus himself doesn't realize what he truly loves."

I looked at Elena.

The moonlight fell between us like a cold chain.

"You're right," I said. "I could never satisfy Cyrus... But I was never begging him to love me."

I smiled too. "What I want is to be free of him. A love like that, you can keep it for yourself."

With that, I turned away from her, walked straight into the night, and did not look back.