Page 179

Tessa sat quietly, knowing better than to speak unless spoken to. Mother Cordelia flipped several pages in the silence. Finally, she flipped the folder closed, folding her hands once more. “I was asked to oversee the instruction of the new Sources given this Selection Year’s historical circumstances.”

Tessa swallowed, her interlaced fingers tightening in her lap. Of course Mother Cordelia saw it. Tessa could practically feel the vines binding her wrists, thorns digging into her flesh as she learned not to do that too.

“However, you were not prepared for this role as the others were,” she continued. “As such, Heir St. Orcas has requested an additional three hours each week for private instruction to make up for the inadequacies.”

“He what?” Tessa stammered. When Mother Cordelia’s brow only arched at her outburst, Tessa said, “Why can’t he…instruct me himself? Surely that would strengthen our bond more than—”

“An heir has far more important things to be tending to,” Mother Cordelia interrupted. “Dealing with you is not a hassle he needs to be burdened with, especially during a Selection Year. Since you resided at the Celeste Estate, it is only logical that I am your instructor, since I am well acquainted with your shortcomings.”

“Surely three hours a week is unnecessary,” Tessa argued, her voice becoming more shrill with each word. There was sweat beading on her nape, and gods, she wished she’d worn her hair up today. Instinctively, she glanced around the room, noting all the small nooks and crannies. The tall cupboard in the corner. The open chest of books that could easily be emptied. The space beneath the desk where a foot could easily connect with flesh.

All the spaces she could be shoved into the dark to be dealt with later.

“On the contrary,” Mother Cordelia said sharply. “I argued five hours would be more conducive, but your Master decided three would be sufficient. One hour. Three days each week.”

“Can’t we do all three hours at one time?”

“No.”

“But—”

“Enough,” Mother Cordelia snapped. “I will not spend our time together debating with you. You have too much to improve on to waste time on such frivolities.”

Had Theon told her? Had he told her she’d tried to run more than once? Had he told her she argued with him constantly? Had he told her how she’d been forced to sit at his feet beneath a table? About her last assessment?

The Estate Mother never let on how much she knew until it suited her, and now was no different. Her face held the same slight sneer it always did as she shoved the thick folder to the side and grabbed another stack of papers.

“Are we done?” Tessa bit out, suddenly needing to move. This wasn’t just restlessness. This was feeling like she might actually die if she couldn’t get up, move, run, breathe fresh air.

Scream to the sky.

“No.”

“What else do we need to do?”

“We have until the top of the hour.”

“To do what?”

It was becoming too hard to breathe, and why was it so godsdamn hot in here? There were windows, but they were closed up tight with the curtains pulled shut.

“To do as you are told,” she retorted. “I don’t know why this is so hard for you to understand, Tessalyn. That is your purpose. Do what you are told by the Legacy. Aid them. Give them what they want and don’t be a hassle about it. Now sit until our time is up and prove to me that these last two decades have not been a complete waste of my time and effort.”

She felt it then. The quick pull of air from her lungs. Tessa blinked, and it was gone. Withholding oxygen wouldn’t kill her, but it was certainly Mother Cordelia’s preferred way to get a point across. Giving her just enough air to stay conscious, but withholding enough to make her feel like she was suffocating.

So she sat silently, forcing herself not to move. But instead of counting, she found herself going through lyrics for the songs Axel had put on those stupid running playlists. She could make it through one more song.

One more second.

One more song.

One more day.

One more year.

It didn’t much matter in the end.

* * *