A Beautiful Evil (A Beautiful Book. 1) #Wattys2015

Chapter Nine - Cookie Jars

Avery was standing on the landing when I reached the top of the stairs, arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the wall, and eyes as cold as ice. Catching sight of him, my heartbeat sped up, causing a thin veil of sweat to form on the nape of my neck. "Hey," I said in a weak voice.

"What do you have against that gargoyle?" he pried, his eyes scanning me over. If I caused him any discomfort, he didn't show it. It seemed to me that he never had feelings for me at all.

"Why, what does it matter?" I asked warily.

"You just sent him to the Pit," he stated, matter-of-factly.

"So? What's your point? My dad would've done it eventually. I don't see the big deal of me speeding up the process," I snapped. Why was he acting like this? Wasn't I the one that was suppose to be bitter with him? Not the other way around?

"My point is, you wouldn't do that unless you had some serious beef with the guy. So, I'll ask it again. What do you have against him?"

I gave him a repulsed look. "Who the hell are you to tell me what to do? Last time I checked, I'm still the princess, and you're still a Duke. So excuse me for my bluntness, but get the hell away from me." I pushed past him, hitting his shoulder with my own, and stormed off. Right when I was turning the corner, my anger already blazing, I heard Avery call after me, "When are you going to let it go? You can't hold a grudge forever!" For all I knew, he could be right. But I came to the conclusion: if he's going to be an asshole, then I'm going to damn well try.

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I needed to see my mother. If what my father said was true, then I didn't have that long to spend time with her. Plus, secretly I was hoping that maybe being on her deathbed would soften her up a bit, make her words a little less venomous.

It took me awhile, ten minutes at the least, to reach my parent's chambers on the opposite side of the castle. On the way, I peeked my head through some open doors that I used to play in when I was younger, glancing around to make sure nothing's changed. It hadn't.

As I approached my parents room, my heart skidded in my chest. Would my mother still hate me, still reject me? Don't get me wrong, I still love her. I mean, she's my mother, don't I have too? But ever since I could remember, she made it clear that the feelings weren't reciprocal.

Once, when I was a child-around six or seven- I got my hand caught in the cookie jar, literally. Being young and naive, I accepted Huawars dare to steal some sugar cookies from my mother's secret stash of cookies hidden on the top of some cabinets. I was always getting in trouble with her, and not so surprisingly, it was Huawar's idea.

"You'll be my look out, right?" I asked, my tummy a mess of butterflies. I so didn't want to do this.

"Promise," Huawar said, raising his hand, his pinky outstretched. I locked my little finger with his, shaking them slightly.

"Good," I replied. "Operation Sugar Cookie is on a go." I rushed into the kitchen, pushing carts of potatoes in front of me so I could climb onto the counters without causing a ruckus.

"Hurry, Mara!" Huawar whispered, his voice strained. He didn't want to be caught either.

Slowly, oh so slowly, with my heart doing its best to hammer its way out of my ribs, I stretched on my tip toes, reaching my hand towards the cookie jar. Using my fingers, I slipped my hand into the small opening of the jar. My foot must've caught on something, because Huawar gave a sharp intake of breath, and it was followed by a loud crash. I did it now.

"Operation Sugar Cookie, abort!" Huawar hissed, his eyes round and fear-filled. "Mara, get out of there!" I glanced down at the ground. There was chunks of glass strewn everywhere, and the red liquor stained the white tiles a bright crimson.