Page 4 of Marked (Wicked Heirs #1)

I woke groggily, wading through the fog of my dreams toward the surface and the dimness of the daylight that had somehow crept through the clouds that shrouded Withermarsh.

My dreams had been…

Did I even remember them?

Did I want to?

My legs and feet ached as though I’d been running for hours and I rubbed at my eyes to clear them of the blurriness that sleep had brought on.

The walls of the room seemed to close in around me as I lay there, my body aching from the tension that had coiled in my muscles throughout the night. For several minutes, I stared at the dark canopy above my bed, trying to delay the moment when I would have to get up and face the day. Dread twisted in my stomach.

Eventually, I pushed myself upright and swung my legs over the side of the bed.

My bare feet touched the cool hardwood floor and sent an icy shiver up my spine .

I pulled a dark knitted blanket around my shoulders and went to the window once again to gaze out over Withermarsh’s shadowed gardens. The overcast sky seemed bleaker than the day before, heavy with unshed rain that promised to pour down any second now. The city of Messana in the distance looked dull and uninviting under this heavy canopy of clouds.

As much as I dreaded it, I knew I needed to talk to my mother.

Her room was at the opposite side of Withermarsh manor, and getting there was like navigating a labyrinth. The manor was too vast, too cold, and filled with far too many secrets I didn’t want to uncover.

I showered quickly. As I lathered my hair and stood under the furious rush of water, the sensation of being watched by unseen eyes prickled over my skin and left me shivering even as steam filled the room and fogged the mirrors.

As I stepped out of the shower, the flicker of a shadow across the large mirrors over the sink made me freeze in place.

Had I imagined that?

I pulled the towel tight around my torso and walked toward the mirror. The blurred outline of my shape glowed in the dark silver glass, and my skin had a haunting pallor.

There.

Behind me.

A shadow looming over my shoulder. Tall and broad.

My teeth chattered and goosebumps rose on my exposed flesh as I reached a shaking hand toward the mirror and pressed my palm against it. The cold glass provided some comfort, but my focus remained on the shadow and its movement behind me.

“Go away,” I whispered.

The shadow darkened just a little, and an icy breeze—slight, so slight I could have imagined it—blew over my bare shoulder .

Fingertips on the side of my neck.

I jerked my hand back and whipped around, suddenly terrified.

Of course, there was no one there. But when I looked back at the mirror, the shadow was there.

“Go away!”

I wiped my hand across the mirror, desperately trying to wipe away the shadow’s presence.

As my palm slid across the glass, clearing the reflection to reveal my frightened face staring back at me—the shadow was gone.

I stared at my reflection and took a shaking breath to slow my racing heart. I looked around the room, cautiously, half-expecting to see the shadow standing there, but the bathroom was empty save for me and the remnants of the steam from my shower that curled toward the ceiling.

With a heavy sigh, I turned back towards the mirror, swallowed hard, and forced myself to stare at my reflection.

My eyes were wide, and I looked smaller somehow—more vulnerable than I ever had before.

I dried myself quickly and pulled a robe over my shoulders before winding a towel around my hair. I tossed a worried glance over my shoulder at the mirror before I stepped out into my bedroom, but the silvered glass was clear—no shadows this time.

Choosing what to wear was harder than I’d expected.

The only clothes I had that were actually mine were my Academy uniform, and there was no way I was going to wear that.

I searched through the closets and drawers, but after an agonizing length of time spent brushing my fingers over the finer garments with a pained expression on my face, I finally picked out a simple button-down blouse and pair of black trousers .

Finally dressed, I braided my hair quickly and slipped into my school shoes. I couldn’t bring myself to put on any of the designer heels that were safely stored in monogrammed boxes in their own designated closet.

I couldn’t even bring myself to look at them.

As I turned the doorknob and pulled the door to my room open, the room was suddenly invaded by a gust of cold air, as if it had been kept at bay and now had free rein to sweep into every corner. I pulled the door closed as quickly as I could.

The mansion was eerily quiet, as if it were holding its breath, and my footsteps were swallowed up in the heavy silence.

As I passed through the grand hallway that led toward my mother’s chambers, gilt-framed portraits of grim-looking ancestors watched me with judgmental eyes from their hallowed positions on the ornate walls.

I hesitated outside the double doors that led into my mother’s chambers.

With a deep breath, I raised my hand and rapped lightly against the dark painted wood. I flinched at the way the sound echoed in the hallway, but silence was all that followed.

“Mom?”

I knocked again.

“Come in,” came her voice from within, and the golden door knob turned. I jumped back as the door swung toward me.

I couldn’t remember the last time my mother had used her magic in my presence, but I could sense the crackle of it in the air.

Her bedroom was enormous—larger than any room I had seen in our old house in Messana. Intricate carvings of mythical creatures adorned the high ceilings, and the soft light of the chandelier made their eyes glow ominously.

An enormous four-poster bed draped in black silk dominated the room. She sat in front of a dainty antique vanity made of rosewood, and a silver mirror reflected my mother’s image back at me. Her robe, a rich burgundy velvet that seemed as though it would cascade like liquid on the floor, hung casually over her shoulders, exposing a sliver of bare shoulder and collarbone. Raven hair fell like a black waterfall down her back, and her face held an expression of cold detachment as she met my gaze in the mirror.

“Avril,” she said, without turning around. There was no warmth in her voice. No welcoming smile on her face when she finally faced me in the mirror.

She looked different; colder and hardened by something I couldn’t quite understand. Her dark eyes narrowed as she looked at me, and her gaze was somehow equal parts boredom and disappointment—I wasn’t sure which was worse.

I stood there limply, suddenly unsure of how to say what I needed to say. Questions bubbled in my throat, but I couldn’t force them out.

“Sit,’ she commanded languidly, gesturing towards an ornate wingback chair that was set near a darkened fireplace.

Swallowing my anxiety, I did as instructed. Her eyes never left mine in the mirror, holding me captive under her silent scrutiny as I perched on the edge of the chair.

Her nose wrinkled slightly. “What are you wearing—”

“I— I just—”

“Of all the clothes in that extensive wardrobe you chose— that.”

I looked down at the plain blouse, black pants, and scuffed shoes. “Yeah—”

My mother let out a disgusted noise.

“I— I wanted to thank you for all of it,” I choked out. “It’s all really… overwhelming.”

Without looking at me, my mother dipped her fingers into the pot of cream and smoothed them over her throat and collarbone. “You should be thanking Lucian,” she said. “He insisted.”

“Oh—” I said in a small voice. “You didn’t pick the clothes out?”

“Why would I do that?” she snapped.

The knowledge that someone I didn’t know had chosen the clothes in my closets, including the lingerie, sent a strange shiver down my spine.

“Mom, I know this sounds weird. But, do you… do you get the feeling—”

Her dark eyes met mine in the mirror’s reflection and my throat tightened.

“I feel like I’m being watched,” I blurted out. “Don’t you—”

“You’re too old to be acting like a spoiled child,” she snapped. “Your imagination is getting the better of you. I should have known that you would try to ruin this. You should be grateful for everything that Lucian has given you.”

“Mom— That’s not— that’s not what—”

“Was that all?”

“N—no. I wanted to ask about my stuff— Everything I left at my dorm room.”

My mother’s eyebrow rose slightly.

“I— I wanted to know if it was going to be sent here… All of my university applications—”

“Avril,” she said, her voice cold and sharp, “you don’t need to worry about university anymore. Your future lies elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?” I countered, my heart sinking. “But what about my friends? The Academy? I was still due to take my Sage placement—”

“Your old life is gone,” she replied dismissively. “You were never going to be a Sage.”

I clenched my fists, struggling to hold back tears of frustration and disappointment .

“But I’ve trained my whole life—”

“Enough!” she snapped, turning from the mirror to face me. Her cold eyes were hard, unyielding as she studied me. “You’ve never had the talent for it, Avril, and you know it. Messana Academy is the finest—” She paused and set down her pot of cream, disdain evident on her coldly beautiful face. “You would have washed out within a year, made a fool of yourself.”

The words stung more than they should have. A lump formed in my throat as my mother’s dismissive words echoed in my head. The heartache swelled within me, threatening to overflow.

“You need to understand,” she said as she picked up a wide-toothed comb made of dark silver and pulled it through her long tresses without looking at me again. “This is not about what you want. This is about what is best for us... for our family.”

“But—” My voice sounded strange to my own ears. Weak and pathetic. The reality was sinking in and it felt like the room was closing in on me.

“That’s all there is.”

The finality in her voice was like a door slamming shut.

There was a long pause as I struggled to keep my emotions in check. My mother’s words had the force of a punch that left me breathless and disoriented. As I sat on the edge of the chair, I felt insignificant in the lavish grandeur of the room. The flickering chandelier light cast strange shadows across her face, transforming her from my mother into something cold and unfamiliar.

Maybe that was Lucian’s influence.

I couldn’t believe that she had changed so much.

What had I done to make her hate me?

She rose from her chair, but didn’t direct her gaze toward me. The rich burgundy train of her robe dragged along the ground as she walked toward her dressing area. “Get out,” she said casually, as though I were a servant to be dismissed .

I stood slowly and stared at her in disbelief. “What?”

“Out!’

A push of magic accompanied her command, and I staggered back with the force of it.

The magic was like a slap, red hot against my skin, and I blinked in surprise. She had never used her power against me. Her dismissal cut deeper than any physical wound.

“Mom—” I began, but my voice failed.

Tears stung my eyes as the door swung open ahead of me, and I forced my legs to move. The harshness of her words echoed in my mind as I careened into the hallway. The door slammed shut behind me, and the crash of it echoed loudly and made me gasp at the force of it.

I couldn’t go back to my room.

With a quick motion, I brushed away the tears with the back of my hand and proceeded down the grand staircase to the entrance hall. Above me, ornate chandeliers sparkled with a cruel brilliance that mocked my sorrow. The entrance hall was large and spacious, adorned with ancient tapestries and statues of mythical creatures that were more horrifying the more I stared at them—their stony gazes seemed to follow me as I walked by.

I wandered aimlessly until I came upon a grand library, its double doors open as if welcoming me in.

I had taken refuge in the library at Messana Academy more times than I wanted to count. It was a safe place to hide when I was being bullied by the girls with more powerful magic than I would ever possess.

Pushing away the memory, I proceeded cautiously through the open doors. My hands still trembled from the fear and anger that still coursed through my veins, and I clenched them into fists at my sides to try to regain some control. It was a futile exercise, but I didn’t know what else to do.

As I walked into the space, a wave of nostalgic comfort hit me. Even in this monstrous house, there were vestiges of familiarity to latch onto.

The library was as grand as the rest of the mansion, towering bookshelves filled with ancient texts and spellbooks extending up towards a vaulted ceiling. The air was heavy with the scent of parchment and old magic. A huge stained glass window sprawled across one wall and cast an array of colors onto the dark mahogany floor.

As I walked closer to the bookshelves, I looked over titles I’d never heard of—subjects that would have been forbidden at the academy. Dark divination. Histories of Sages with names that were only spoken in whispers. Corrupted histories…

My fingertips tingled sharply as I traced the spine of one book bound in deep red leather, and I snatched my hand away.

You shouldn’t be here.

You don’t belong here.

The dark whispers filled my mind. Voices filled my ears, and my skin prickled with fear as I spun around.

The room was empty, but the assault on my senses continued—

Get out.

Get out!

All at once, the whispers became shouts that echoed off the bookshelves and reverberated around the space.

You shouldn’t be here.

You don’t belong here!

Traitor.

Traitor!

A heavy hand fell on my shoulder. Then another.

A sudden, invisible force seized me and I let out a thin scream as its grip tightened around my body.

With a desperate cry, I tore myself away and fled from the room, my screams muffled by fear and adrenaline. The walls seemed to close in on me as I ran, my heart beating frantically against my chest. Every creak and whisper of the house echoed in my ears, making it seem like the darkness was alive and chasing after me. But I couldn’t stop running, couldn’t look back, because I knew whatever had gripped me was still there, lurking in the shadows.