Chapter 12 Chapter 12

Chapter 12 Chapter 12
Vivian
I watched Adrian in terrifying agony as my heart broke in different ways, unable to do anything.

Rushing to help him would be getting myself destroyed, and wasn’t an option.

I stood, helpless, unable to do anything, but to watch a young man who didn’t deserve to go through the agony he was going through to go through it either way.

“I have spent my life in the shadows,” he growled, his voice laced with every bit of pain he was experiencing.

“I have spent my life waiting for the one the Seer promised. I thought… I thought if I found you, the beast within me would be silent. I believe that your light will quench the fire in my veins…”

He growled, and then a guttural howl left him, the sound that made me flinch. I wrapped my hands around me to keep from flinching.

“But I see now that I am merely a moth, and you are the flame that will consume what is left of humanity.”

He reached out, his hand hovering near my cheek, but he didn’t make contact. The restraint, whatever it was that he was going through was too agonizing to watch.

“You wish to return to your world of cold iron and bright light. You wish to flee… this wretched history. And yet, when I look at you, I see the only thing that makes the change bearable.

A tear pricked my eye, and it was clear to me now.

The chemistry that we had going on wasn’t just a spark of wit. It was a heavy, tragic pull. One I hated, because I was not ready and prepared for it at this point.

“I don’t want to see you suffer, Adrian,” I said. “But I cannot stay in a cage even if that bars are made for goals and the jailer is a duke.”

“Go to your chamber,” he thundered, the command breaking into a very terrifying howl.

At first, I thought he was angry at what I said, before I noticed how he fought to keep back something that shouldn’t manifest at this time.

“Run. Lock the door! Do not come out, no matter what sounds you hear from the cellar. If you have any mercy in your soul, Vivian… leave me to my darkness!”

He staggered into the gloom, the hidden doors slamming shut with a sound like a tomb being sealed.

I stood alone in the library, too stunned to move a finger.

The storm outside was still raging, and the echoes of a monster’s agony ringing in my ears. I darted my gaze to the fireplace, taking in the luxury and the wealth, and then it hit me.

What was the use of all this wealth if you cannot simply enjoy it in peace.

Then it finally made sense. Adrian wasn’t a king at all. He was a sacrifice.

My hands finally moved after several moments, grazing the part of my cheek that he touched earlier today, and the heaviness of the reality and the terrifying weight of the prophecy hit me.

I was Adrian’s anchor.

It was a scary truth to admit, and I was mad at myself that it had to be me.

If I decided to pull away, I might just destroy the man to save myself.

I looked at the clock. The days were going down, and it all boiled down to the choice I’d decide to make.

The morning that followed wasn’t like the other morning that I’ve experienced in the Northbrook’s estate. This morning was deceptively tranquil, void of all the things I saw last night.

It felt like a betrayal of the reality that was, as if everybody was pretending that everything was good.

The estate was scrubbed clean by the rain, the air filled with the smell of ozone and wet boxwood.

The only sign of what happened last night that lingered was the tremor in my hand as I reached out to pick a cup of tea.

Others may have pretended like nothing happened. Some others may have moved on, but it was difficult for me.

I hadn’t seen Adrian this morning, so I couldn’t help but wonder if he made it through the night, or whether he gave into the beast that threatened to consume him.

Then it dawned on me the situation I was grappling with.

I must find a way to save a man who is dutiful to his people from a supposed curse, but I also need to do that while I figure out a way to get back to the future to coordinate an event and save my sister’s life.

A sharp rap at the door startled me, bringing me back to reality. The butler, a man whose spine seemed to be made of the exact stone marble in the foyer entered with a silver salver.

“A delivery miss,” the man’s voice came crisp. “From the stationers in London. His Grace has requested that this be presented to you immediately.”

My gaze left the butler’s frame to the tray he bore, a heavy, cream-colored envelope sealed with the Northbrook crest in deep, crimson wax.

I picked the envelope with hesitation, my finger breaking the seal to pull out an expensive, thick parchment. I unfurled it and I began to read.

“His Grace, the Duke of Northbrook requests the honor of your presence at a grand masquerade ball to be held on the first evening of the New Moon. A Night of mystery and revelation.”

Beneath the formal script, my gaze glimpsed a handwriting that was steady once more, a little deliberate than usual. I narrowed my eyes at it.

“I have selected your attire. It shall be delivered this afternoon. You will find that moonlight suits a Northbrook far better than the garish light of day.

“A masquerade,” I hushed.

The ultimate Regency trope.

A night when identities become fluid, where strictures of the ton were momentarily loosened by the presence of a silk mask.

It was the same thing that the old woman in the woods had hinted.