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Chapter 9

“Are you the only Witch?” I ask her, stunned.

“No, my daughter is already showing signs, and my mother is a Witch, too. We have remained hidden just like you.”

I nod my head in understanding.

“So how old are you, anyway?” she asks curiously.

“I turn twenty-one tomorrow,” I tell her.

She gasps. “So you might be the one they are looking for then; you could save us all,” she says excitedly. I don’t know how she still has hope for the Chosen One. I tossed hope out the window years ago.

“Do you know of the book? The one with the prophecy?” she asks.

I shake my head, not knowing what she is talking about. “What book?” I ask.

“The one only the Fae with magic can read. The one that says how to break the curse. How have you not heard of it?” she asks incredulously. Her words make me think of my grandmother’s book, the one Silas took and hasn’t returned.

“We had one book; I don’t know if it is it, Silas took it. When he opened it, the pages were blank. I couldn’t read it, either, my grandmother said it is about the Chosen One. She read it.”

“Where is your grandmother?”

“Dead. She killed herself the night they brought me here, said she would slow me down and she couldn’t risk them finding out.”

Abigail seems to think for a second. “Maybe ask him for it?” she suggests.

I raise an eyebrow.

“No, think about it, they would want to know what is in it. They are your mates and if you reject them, they won’t be able to procreate when the curse is broken. I am sure if you asked, he would give it back or let you read the history books they have here. Then, if you are the Chosen One, just tell them you can’t read it. At least you will know what it says,” she tells me.

I nod. It might work if only I could lie when they asked. I know I wouldn’t get away with it, they would know if I tried.

We had been just sitting in her room, talking. Talking about her life, her daughter and how she came to work for the Dragon Kings. They found her when she was pregnant. Her husband had angered them, and they killed him, all for mentioning some Fae’s name.

Abigail wouldn’t even repeat the name of which he spoke. She feared we would be overheard, and they would grant her the same fate her husband was subjected to, leaving her daughter behind. Abigail told me her daughter is three now and lives with her mother and she gets to see her when Silas leaves.

She says Matitus and Dragus grant her permission to leave the castle as she pleases, when he is gone, allowing her to visit her daughter.

Pulling out a photo she had stuffed inside her pillowcase, I gaze at the angelic face of her daughter. This was from the last time I visited. “My mother found an old Polaroid camera in the trash and had one film left in it.”

Her daughter, Claire, is adorable. She has rosy cheeks, pale skin, and dazzling green eyes and black ringlets. Abigail peers down at her daughter, her fingers tracing over her daughter’s face gently.

The door opening makes us both jump. Abigail shoves the photo under her pillow. It is too late. I know Silas had seen it. My heart thumps in my chest against my ribs, palpitating frantically as he moves closer, holding out his hand, wanting to know what she is hiding from him. Abigail looks at me in panic, and I know it worries her that he would destroy the only thing she has of her daughter.

“Hand it over,” he says, and I see tears brim in her eyes and I feel bad for asking what her daughter looks like. She reaches under the pillow.

“It’s just a photo, it is all she has, please,” I plead.

“Show me?” he says, snapping his fingers, his cruel gaze watching and waiting for her to hand it over. She pulls the photo out, handing it to him.

He plucks it from her fingers and examines the photo, his eyes softening slightly, and I think I imagine it as he looks down at the little girl in the photo.

“It’s time to go,” he says, staring at me.

I stand, my eyes not leaving Abigail’s who has her eyes trained on the photo in his hand. He passes it back, and she lets out a breath, taking it and holding it close to her chest, and I can tell it is her most prized possession. Silas grips my elbow, pulling me toward the door.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask as he pulls me down the corridor.