Florence smiles sadly across from me and my heart squeezes. She knows something too. So, essentially this little meeting is all for me because everyone around me already knows what the hell is going on. And Colt is so much of a dick and a coward he can’t tell me alone.
Martha brings out the rest of the jams and marmalades for breakfast, setting them down before she slowly walks backward toward the kitchen. I know that she’s going to listen at the door, because if I know anything about Martha, it’s that she knows everything that happens around here.
Nobody makes a move. All eyes flick between me and Colt. Then, as if he’s just talking about the weather, he reaches for some bacon and a biscuit as he begins to tell me what the hell is going on.
“There are stipulations to this prophecy. If these are not met, then there could be devastating results. What that means, the scholars do not know.”
Pressing my lips together, I look over to Florence. She is watching me, but she doesn’t give me a hint, not even an inclination of what she’s thinking.
“Okay…” I drawl when he doesn’t continue right away. “What are the stipulations?”
Colt clears his throat, but it’s the main monk-guy who starts to speak.
“You must be in love. When you are, a child will be created in that love. It is laid out in the prophecy and these children that you, and your sisters, create will be the rulers of the next generation. It is said that when you and your sisters finally come together, you will absorb all of the powers of our worlds and be the most powerful beings here.”
Colt growls during the last sentence and normally I would think something like this would be really cool, except it all seems like way too much. I can’t even control or harvest the power that I have right now, how am I going to control even more?
“What happens if I don’t want any of that, what happens if Colt and I don’t fall in love?” I ask.
There is silence, it’s so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. I don’t look back at Colt, unsure if he’s watching me, but also not caring too much either. He doesn’t love me, he made it very clear that he never would.
The monk’s gaze meets mine and a chill runs down my spine at the seriousness in his eyes. He opens his mouth, but it’s Florence who speaks, interrupting him.
“Devastation, Birdie. It would cause devastation.”
“Love is an emotion,” I point out. “It isn’t something that the gods can just demand we fall into. It may never happen.”
“You must try,” the monk says, his voice soft, and his eyes focused on me, as if it’s me who isn’t open to falling in love. As if it isn’t Colt who already said I would never be his wife, just his whore.
Deciding that I can’t stay in here a moment longer, not with all of their eyes focused on me, I stand. All of the men stand as well, and it’s so annoying that they’re so fucking polite in this world and this time.
Taking a step to the side, then backward, I clear my throat. “Prepare for devastation then, whatever that means.”
Turning around, I walk out of the room. I hate that one of the guards follows me and hate it even more that the guard isn’t Colt. Practically running, I open the back door and step outside, gasping for air.
COLT
I watch her run out of the dining room, not even taking a single bite of food. The room stays quiet, all eyes are on me, but I can only stare after Birdie and Jeremiah who far too quickly ran after her.
“She will come around, it is just new,” Florence says in an attempt to calm me.
There is no calming me, mainly because I am no doubt the reason for Birdie’s ire. She read Adelaide’s private journal, then withheld it from me. She has seduced me, made me feel for her with her magic. I cannot in good conscience just allow any of this to happen, to pretend that this is real, that she is real.
“I do not care,” I state. “She is right. We must prepare for devastation.”
Standing, I too leave the room, but I don’t follow Birdie outside, instead I make my way into my office. Closing the door behind me, I walk over to the window and look out, knowing that I’ll probably be able to see her when I do.
I am right.
Birdie is standing just a few feet away in the distance, Jeremiah at her side. His head is tipped down, hers tilted backward as they talk with one another. They’re standing close, much too close. Flicking my gaze down, my jaw clenches at the sight of his hand on her elbow.
He is touching what is mine.
What was created for me.
I may not want her. I may not ever fall in love with her, but that does not mean that she is any less mine.
Birdie Collins belongs to only me and he is touching her. Clenching my hands into fists at my side, I don’t walk out there and pummel him as much as I want to. Instead, I lie in wait. I watch. I wait. And I watch a bit more.
She turns from him, walking away a few feet, and I watch as he clenches his fists at his sides, just the way that I am doing. My lips lift up into a smirk as my friend is rejected by the woman who is not his to have and I didn’t have to do or say a single thing.
“Sir,” Ernest’s voice rings.
I don’t bother turning around, knowing that he slipped in here alone and that if he’s called out my name, he no doubt has something that he would like to say to me. So, instead of responding to him, I wait.
He clears his
