Our promise.
She is crying in earnest now. Her tears form a puddle of blood on the floor. “I can’t let you keep doing this,” she says. “You have killed so many, Adelina, and it is destroying you. I cannot watch you deteriorate.”
You see? the whispers say. The creatures crawling on the floor finally reach me, and before I can shove them off, they lunge up at me and enter my mind. Their thoughts replace my own. I shudder.
Yes, of course.
Now I know why she did it. She wants my place. She wants the throne, she must have wanted it all along—with her power, she can control any Elite she wants, make them do anything at her beck and call. I always knew she would turn on me like this, and now that I have done all the work for her, dirtied my hands with blood and grief, she is going to take her turn. Most of all, she broke our promise. We are never, ever to use our powers against each other.
How could you? How could you?
I can no longer think. Fury fills every crevice of my mind. Even without my power, I can feel the force of the whispers, calling me on. I pull out the dagger at my belt and lunge at Violetta.
She manages to grab my wrist, but my impact throws her off her feet, and she lands with a thud. All the air rushes out of her lungs. Her eyes widen, and she flounders for a moment like a fish out of water, gulping for air. I raise my dagger over my head, even as a part of me screams for me to stop, and I bring it down.
She dodges to one side. Somehow, my fragile sister manages to throw me off her, but I just scramble to my feet and lunge for her again. I grab a fistful of her hair. She cries out as I yank her back toward me. Already, the absence of my power is making me panic. I can barely see straight. The world crushes in around us. I pull her to me and press the dagger to her throat.
“Your promises mean nothing—you—I trusted you! You were the only one!” I shout. “Give it back! It is mine!”
Violetta sobs desperately. “Adelina, please!” If I could sense her emotions right now, I know I would feel a tide of terror unlike anything I’ve ever felt from her. But in this moment, she is not my sister. She is only another enemy. A traitor, the whispers remind me. And I listen.
“Give back my power,” I say in her ear. My dagger presses hard enough to cut her skin. “Or I swear on all the gods that I will slit your throat right here.”
“Then take it,” Violetta suddenly hisses. “And let it take you.” And just like that, I feel my power rush back over me in a flood of darkness, filling the empty crevices of my heart and mind with its familiar, poisonous comfort. I drop the dagger and let go of Violetta. I fall backward to the ground, close my eye, and curl into a ball, clutching the threads close to me. I’m breathing hard. The world spins. My anger churns in me, pulsing, fading.
It takes me a moment to realize that Violetta has already struggled to her feet and is running for the door. Even now, she seems so far away.
“Where are you going?” I snap at her, but she has just thrown the door wide open. She doesn’t look back at me.
“Violetta!” I call out from where I still crouch on the floor. “Wait!”
What happened? What did I do to her? I shake my head, squinting my eye shut. The whispers in my head swirl, fading. The chamber seems to fall back into silence. When I open my eye again, the world is no longer spinning. There is no puddle of bloody tears on the floor. There are no fanged creatures swarming the ground. My sister is not here, pulling away my powers.
Gradually, the haze over me clears. I crouch there as bits of what had just happened come back to me. The dagger. Her hair. Her throat. Her trembling, weeping body.
My stomach clenches.
“Violetta!” I call again. “Violetta, wait. Come back!”
No answer. I’m alone in the chamber.
I try again, turning more frantic. “Violetta!” I repeat. How could my illusions get away from me again like that? “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean—I wouldn’t have hurt you! Come back!”
But she’s already gone.
I press my hands against the marble floor and lower my head. I’d yanked her hair with the same viciousness that my father did on the night he died. My dagger had flashed down—I’d aimed for her, aimed to hurt, to kill. My vision had been so blurred and tinted with scarlet. How did I not stop myself?
“Violetta, Violetta,” I cry, my voice hoarse, too quiet for her to hear. “Come back. I’m sorry. It was a mistake. Don’t leave me here.”
Silence.
You’re all I have. Please don’t leave me here.