Page 5 of A Vow of Shadow and Blood

He removes the hold from my waist and taps my leg dismissively. I don’t miss a beat. I stumble to my feet, desperate to put as much distance between us as possible. Laughter breaks out at the table as the monsters behind me watch me struggle to keep my balance as I almost trip over Jace’s severed head. Guilt twists my stomach into knots. He was just eighteen. Still a child. He barely even lived, and his life was stolen as if it were just one big joke. My chest tightens, but I force myself forward, steadying against the tables as I weave through them. I don’t stop until I am face-to-face with Tori. The sadness in her eyes reflects everything I feel. Her blue eyes widen as she takes in the new scar on my wrist.

“Are you ok?” she whispers.

“I’m fine. It’s already healed. I just need a minute.”

I touch a hand to the scar, my eyes closing as my fingers trace the newly crinkled skin. My chest tightens, a storm of emotions threatening to break loose—but I will not let them see weakness. I glance back at the table and find Vincent still watching me. A look of pure satisfaction fills his face. Our eyes clash in a challenge while my fists clench at my sides until a soft touch against my arm draws my attention away. My eyes meet Tori’s again.

“It’s not your fault,” she says.

“No?” I say, gesturing to the parts of me still covered in Jace’s blood, the coppery scent making my nostrils flare. My stomach roils, desperate to release every meal I have eaten today.

“No, he was going to die no matter what you did. Vincent had already made up his mind. At least you tried.”

“If it were Willow, I would have stopped at nothing to save her.”

“She’s your sister. He was a newblood we barely even knew. They die all the time.”

“And that makes it right?”

“None of this is right, but it's the world we live in, Adina.”

She hesitates for just a moment.

“All we can do is survive.” She says the phrase we’ve been repeating since we were kids. The reminder we created when we both witnessed our first death.

“I could have saved him,” I whisper.

“No,” she says, but I know the truth.

I know what I’m capable of, but I did nothing because, as much as I wanted to help him, I knew the cost, and I wasn’t going to risk my sister’s life for a newblood I barely knew. And I’m honestly not sure if it makes me a bigger monster than the vampire who murdered him.

“What part of stay out of other purebloods’ business was not clear to you, Adina Barron?”

I swing around at the sound of Cora’s voice. Before I even get the chance to react, she wraps a hand around my upper arm and drags me in the direction of the hallway. Tori looks on apologetically but doesn’t dare intervene. I don’t blame her. Cora is an oldblood—someone who’s done her years of service to the vampires and now acts as one of Amabel’s house guides, enforcing order—especially on purebloods who break the rules. I catch Cora nodding at someone over my shoulder, and when I follow her gaze, I find Amabel standing beside the bar wearing a scowl. A sign that there will be repercussions for my actions tonight.

Cora doesn’t stop walking until we are far down the hallway and out of earshot of anyone. She releases my arm and turns to face me.

“One of these days you’re going to get yourself killed,” she says. Despite the frustration in her voice, a softness remains in her brown eyes. She gestures toward my wrist, and I instinctively wrap my hand around the marred skin. “Does it hurt?”

“It’s already healed. I’m fine now the shock has worn off.” I brush my finger over the new scar and try not to flinch.

“Here.”

She hands me a damp cloth, hidden inside the pocket of her gray apron, and without looking, I wipe away the final pieces of Jace’s existence. He’ll be thrown into the burn pit like every dead human before him, and the stains on this material will be all the realm remembers of him.

I hand the now red-stained cloth back to her, trying to still the shaking in my hand.

“You’re getting pretty good at pretending to be one of Amabel’s lapdogs,” I say, but stop short when I notice the expression on her wrinkled face.

“You didn’t come for me because Amabel sent you, did you?” She shakes her head, and my stomach drops. I step forward, my eyes meeting hers. “Cora, what is it?”

She closes her eyes briefly before pinning me with a stare.

“It’s Willow.”

When we reach Willow’s room, Cora is panting.

“The idea…was to not…draw attention,” she says between breaths. Cora showing any favoritism to a pureblood could land her in serious trouble, so I force myself to stay calm and act as if we’re not doing anything we shouldn’t be. Still, my mind keeps drawing me back to the last time she called me to Willow’s room. Her sagging eyes and taut skin still haunt me to this day.