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Page 32 of The Deathless One (The Gravesinger #1)

Dark fingers closed around her arms, which should have been intimidating.

But she could feel him vibrating with anger, not at her, but at the man in front of her.

When was the last time someone had been angry on her behalf?

She couldn’t remember the last time someone had been protective of her and not the kingdom or the princess who would rule them. Just her.

The Deathless One cared that this young man had taken part in harming her. And that made her trust the god at her back far more than this pageboy on his knees.

“Don’t make me do this,” she said, her voice warbling with emotion. “I don’t want to do something I regret.”

Jessamine didn’t know if she was talking to the god or the man. Perhaps both of them.

But Benji looked up at her, and the mask slipped. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Miss Jessamine. You’re a princess.” His voice dripped with sarcasm and deep disdain.

She could hear the judgment in those words. Like she had asked some higher power to be reborn into the body of a princess. Like she had gotten some leg up over everyone else without having to work for it.

“Please, just tell me what happened.”

The Deathless One growled in her ear. “Stop stalling.”

His dark hand passed over her eyes, and she saw the image of her mother.

The memory of what she had looked like sitting in the aisle.

She could see with such certainty the glistening tears in the queen’s eyes as she watched her daughter marry a man who would take pleasure in her pain.

And she remembered standing in this memory with him, so afraid that she would forget a single detail of what her mother looked like, or how she’d lived.

The ring in her hand grew slippery with her own blood. She’d clasped it too hard, and the stone had bitten into her palm.

Benji chuckled, and the sound was like a knife to her heart. “You’re no good at interrogation, princess.”

Another pulsing memory took the place of the first. This time, a ruby necklace rested right above her mother’s heart.

And then it started to bleed. Her mother was dying right in front of her, and in the background stood Benji, holding open the gate with a gleeful smile on his face. She couldn’t take it anymore.

Lunging forward, she wrapped both of her hands around his neck and gave him a shake. “You useless bastard. You know something and you will tell me!”

It was like something shattered in front of her.

Those innocent eyes narrowed into a fox’s gaze.

His brows drew down, and his quivering lips curved into a sinister smile.

“You and your mother could never understand this kingdom like I do. I did what was right for my people. Neither of you spoiled brats could do that, living in a castle above all our heads. You can threaten me all you want, princess. But you don’t scare me. ”

The darkness behind her pressed against her spine, bolstering her courage and giving her strength. “He means ‘princess’ as an insult,” the Deathless One murmured. “Is it an insult, Jessamine?”

No.

She could feel the power flowing between the two of them.

Like she was an extension of the Deathless One.

Like he was inside her, using her body to puppet his grand plan, and still it didn’t frighten her.

Because she wanted what he wanted. Revenge.

Fear. She wanted to taste it on her tongue because she wanted this young man to know what real terror felt like.

Magic poured out of her hands, ink wriggling around his throat and up his cheeks. His eyes widened in horror as those tendrils ripped open his mouth and she stared down at his tongue, which tried desperately not to swallow the darkness pouring into his throat.

Shaking, she hissed, “Then I will rip out your memories, Benji. This kingdom is mine . And I will decide what it needs.”

With a jerk of her arm, she ripped. She tore the memories straight out of him, and they erupted from his mouth like the smog that hung over the Factory District. She ignored the whimpers that came with it.

She had to know.

She had to know who had put him up to this horrible thing that had changed all their lives. And she had to know why .

“Consume it,” the Deathless One said. “Breathe it into your body. Claim his memories.”

She didn’t even hesitate. Later, perhaps, she would wonder why she’d listened to someone she knew to be so dangerous. But she trusted him now, and that was a problem all on its own.

Breathing in Benji’s memory, she could see everything he saw, from his earliest time in the castle to the day of her death. His images melded with her own memories, connecting with still other pieces, until she was certain who had paid him. She had found the architect of her destruction.

A man who had known her for her entire life. A man who had been so important to her mother that it was like he also was family. A betrayal. A heartbreak.

“No,” she gasped, wrenching away from Benji and dropping him back onto the treasure trove he’d stolen from her family. “No, he could not have…”

She looked back at Benji, hoping to see remorse.

But all she saw was a pool of blood leaking out of his mouth and a vacant stare that was now frozen on his face for all eternity.

Her heart stuttered, thudded hard against her ribs, and all she could hear was the haunting wail of an organ that had once thought everyone was honorable.

“This was what you wanted, wasn’t it?” the Deathless One said.

“I don’t know anymore.” Goose bumps rose on her arms and her teeth chattered. She staggered away from the body, unable to look at what she had done. “I didn’t want to hurt anybody.”

“You’re taking back a kingdom, Jessamine. People are going to get hurt.”

“I didn’t think it would feel like… this.” Her hands were shaking, too, now. She couldn’t quite think right, other than to stare at them and realize she had done that. With her magic.

No, not her magic. His. The magic he had given her because she’d made a deal with a horrible god who had resurrected her for his own purposes. She wasn’t in her right mind. If she had been, she never would have hurt Benji. She wouldn’t have.

“Jessamine.” The dark voice had softened. So quiet that she almost didn’t hear her name as he whispered it. “Pick up the book in the trunk at the foot of his bed and go find Sybil.”

“I don’t know if I can walk.”

“You can walk because you must. Get going, Jessamine.”

She found her body moving of its own accord.

She continued forward, her knees weak and wobbling.

The book was exactly where he’d said it would be.

A black leather-bound grimoire with etchings all over the cover.

She held it to her heart, tucking it against her chest as she made her way down the rickety stairs.

Some part of her heard the creaking noises and the warning sounds of a building that was far too close to collapse, but she didn’t feel the spike of fear this time. All she could feel was a sense of numbness that should have made her nervous.

Sybil waited for her at the bottom of the stairs. The witch took one look at her, and her face crumpled into pity. “Oh, sweet thing. Come here.”

Safe beneath the arm of a witch, Jessamine was ashamed to admit she felt much better. Even as her heart turned brittle and thin as the first winter ice.