When Nelle Wychthorn was forced to sign herself away in marriage, she should have read the contract's fine print. Because she signs not with ink, but with blood. And that changes everything.
Season 1 'Of Crows and Thorns'
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Fiery Nelle, the isolat...
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Six Hours Earlier
My gaze slowly slipped away from the mansion's roofline, and with it, the moment of madness evaporated. As selfish as it was...I couldn't...I couldn'ttake my own life.
I didn't know how late it was, but beyond the leafy garden that surrounded the aviary, I could still hear the strains of music seeping out of the marquee and the distant sound of chatter from guests milling outside the tent.
My mind descended into a swirling mess of panic, trying to grasp the Alverac and what Graysen begged me to do—run. The thought of not being with him had carved a hole inside my chest and my heartbeat rattled inside that empty space.
But...
The Alverac... What his family wanted from me...
All for revenge—to break me, and in doing so, break my father.
And if Graysen failed to protect me from this family... If he failed to protect me from himself... What could he force me to do by asserting his will against mine?
What if I angered him? Bored him? Insulted him? What if it was something as simple as telling me to get to my feet and walk and forget he'd asked me to? What if I left the pavement and stepped over the curb to walk across a busy street—hit by a car, a bus, or a truck? What if the path of my feet took me into a pond? The cold stagnant water lapping my ankles, up to my waist, rising higher to bubble around my mouth. And on I walked, my feet sliding through the sediment, desperate for him to remember me as I went under—the air escaping my burning lungs in a turmoil of panicked spheres.
The Crowthers had wanted me all along because of what my mother and father had done. It didn't matter that I was innocent. That I'd never known what had happened to Tabitha. It wasn't me who had betrayed her.
And yet...I was alive while she was not.
Graysen lay sprawled on the grass between the silvery birches. His powerful body was caught in rare slumber—he only looked younger in sleep, not softer. Thick black eyelashes fanned against the uppermost curve of his cheeks. Shadows darkened his jaw and there was the slightest pinch between his brows.
I jittered on the spot, shaking my wrists. My damaged adamere bracelet softly chinked with the erratic movement and my pulse kicked into a frantic pace.
What was I to do?
I could run...or I could end him.
As I took in his vulnerable repose, I realized with sickening certainty that there was no safety for me, none at all, not until one of us was dead. I could easily put an end to the Alverac right this moment, and he'd never awaken from his sleep.
It was either me or him.
The thought took root and I fell prey to the ease of it all.
Grass cushioned my fall as I sank to my knees about to reach for my dagger. It would be as easy as slicing his throat from ear to ear, watching the blood spill and stain the greenery with crimson.
