“Mmm. Sound advice. Perhaps I will be such a good daughter to her that she will find it best for her heart and soul to place me where you once were, in her affections and in her will. I will be the new Castle daughter, and you will be a sad memory.”
Emme wrapped her arms around her knees, numb. Short of tearing her hip from its socket, she had no way of rushing Lysette when she opened the door. Thoughts of what might have happened to Oliver were too painful to contemplate, and she wouldn’t give Lysette the satisfaction of asking after him. He’d have found her by now if he’d managed to return from his brother unmolested. If Lysette had been telling the truth, it had been nearly thirty-six hours.
She didn’t mention Madeline either, in hopes of keeping Lysette’s attention completely away from her twin. She hoped her own suppositions about Maddie had been correct, that she had begun to imagine a way to live away from her toxic sister.
It was not to be. As though the very thought of Madeline slipping through Emme’s mind printed her name in the air, Lysette said, “Where is my sister?”
Emme rested her forehead on her arms. “I do not know.”
“Where is she?” For the first time, Lysette’s voice trembled in anger.
“I do not know.” Emme lifted her head and allowed her fury to show in her eyes. “If she is lucky, somewhere far, far away from you. I have not seen her since the night you took me from the forest.”
“Lies!” Lysette’s voice echoed through the cavern. “She is nowhere in the hotel, the hunting lodge, or the grounds. She has disappeared!”
Emme allowed a small, satisfied smile to lift her lips. “Excellent. Were you ever planning to release her from the hotel room? It was very clever of you to request the room not receive maid service for the rest of the week. Fortunate, really, that I took your father’s last name. As an O’Shea, I had means of entry.”
Lysette launched herself at Emme in a fury, catching her on the side of the head with her fist and knocking her to the floor.
Emme immediately wrapped both arms around Lysette’s legs and pulled her over.
Lysette kicked, catching Emme in the jaw, and then the stomach, freeing herself and lunging across the room. Emme coughed, unable to catch her breath, and curled in on herself in pain. She watched through watering eyes as Lysette snatched up the keyring, ran out the door, and slammed it closed, locking it with a definitive grind of metal. She grasped the bars of the gate and snarled at Emme, shouting obscenities, her fury echoing down the dark halls.
Emme waited until Lysette had calmed herself and straightened her clothing before speaking. “You are not a shifter, but you are more of a monster than anyone I have ever met.”
Lysette grasped the bars once again and tightened her fists, and Emme awaited another explosion. With any luck, it might bring someone to investigate. As long as that person wasn’t worse than Lysette was, there might be hope.
Lysette smoothed her hair and repinned a few curls. “The fire will soon die out, Emmeline, and with it all light and warmth. The world’s most important people will gather but will not hear you speak, and the changes to which you have dedicated your life will die just like that fire. A pity. With the recent violence, there are several ambassadors who are leery of signing the accord. You might have swayed them.”
Lysette released one bar and smiled, her eyes cruel. “Do not hope for your fair detective to come to your rescue. His brother has taken care of him.”
Emme stared as her stepsister finally turned to leave. “I will haunt you, Lysette O’Shea,” she said, glad when the woman’s step faltered.
“Chew on that, you wretch,” she muttered once Lysette was gone. Emme had no idea how to haunt someone, or even if it was possible, but as long as it played in Lysette’s thoughts, Emme would be satisfied she’d hit a parting shot.
The silence that settled, though, was oppressive. The fire still crackled, and as Emme watched the flames, she thought of the material Lysette had burned, and her eyes filled again with tears.
And Oliver.
Had Lawrence killed him? Turned him? Her grief broke free, and she sobbed. If he were alive, he would never know how to find her, and if he did, she might already be dead. She ached for just one more kiss, one more moment with him. It wouldn’t be enough, though. A million moments, an eternity of moments, would never be enough. She loved him so much she hurt with it, and she would never see him again.
Something scuttled in a distant passageway, followed by a shriek. She was terrified to bring something worse down upon her head and tried to quiet her sobs. She lay down on her arms, prostrate on the floor, and her tears dripped into the dirt. She felt despair unlike any she’d known. Her heart opened up, and the emotions she usually kept behind the closed door flooded out, filling the air around her until she could barely breathe.
She’d dreamed of helping people, of being the voice they did not have. She had worked and clawed and scraped—literally—through masses of ignorant people bent on keeping themselves at the top of the human heap and all others squashed below. Her dreams were a farce, they would not come true, and she would die alone, abandoned in a tomb far beneath the earth. She and her idealism would disappear, and her family and friends would never
