Chapter 20
A Convincing Argument
Cam really wanted to punch something. If that ended up being his big sister, then so be it.
“Just tell me you’re not going to do anything stupid,” Laurel said again, watching her brother strap an extra dagger sheath to his thigh. There was no need for it—it would take eight arms to properly use all the weapons he was attaching to himself—but Nigel was probably too stupid to know that. And if Cam needed to intimidate the guy, he’d be ready.
No matter what happened, he wanted to be ready.
Laurel scowled at Cam’s silence. “Listen, I’m not saying you shouldn’t do this. I just want to hear you say, out loud, that you’re not going to do anything that would get you arrested if law enforcement saw it.”
Finally, he stopped long enough to glare at her. No matter how little she clearly thought of his emotional self-preservation, she usually trusted him to hold up his end of a fight. “I won’t do anything you wouldn’t do in my place,” he snapped, wishing she’d go back to being the dangerous hothead he’d grown up with. “Is that comforting enough for you?”
“Of course not. Why do you think I’m worried about this in the first place?” When he didn’t respond, she broke eye contact first. “Fine.” She shook her head with a quiet curse. “At least let me go with you.”
“So you can get arrested instead of me? No.”
Lauren swore more loudly this time, slamming the flat of her hand against the hallway’s stone wall. “You can’t expect me to just stand here!”
Wholeheartedly understanding the sentiment, Cam throttled his anger back. “There’s not much of a choice when you’re dealing with magic. This is the first useful thing I’ve been able to do all day.”
She sighed, temper draining out of her. “I know.” Stretching her now-sore fingers, Laurel gave her brother an assessing look. “There’s room to stick another dagger or two in your boots.”
Cam huffed out a laugh, some of the pressure inside his chest easing. “I would, but I ran out.”
“Amateur.” Pulling a dagger out of her own boot, she flipped it around and handed it to him handle first. “Ever pick up Mason’s little trick with one of these?”
“Those one-handed, mid-air spins he used to do? Not unless I keep my eye on it the whole time, which kind of misses the point.” He added the dagger to his own arsenal.
“Doesn’t mean you should abandon the idea completely. Just do one spin with it as you walk in. You can keep watch out of the corner of your eye for that long without the guy noticing.” Her smile was dangerous. “If you can time it so the blade catches the light, it’ll be even better.”
Cam felt a rush of affection for his big sister. “You’re scary.”
“You always were a flatterer,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m thinking Mason and I should head out in the morning. I’m not going to worry less if I’m back with the unit, but at least I’ll have something to do to distract me.”
He watched her, not sure what response she wanted. “Makes sense.”
“As much as I hate it, there’s nothing I can do here to back you up. And, I will admit, I have no right to try and drag you off the battle line,” she said. “This is your fight.”
She looked so sad and proud of him, all at the same moment, that Cam instantly felt uncomfortable. “Remember, I’m mostly window decoration at this point.” He made the words more joking than he felt. “I probably won’t even get to stab anybody.”
“Oh, there’s always hope.” Genuine humor lit her eyes. “This Nigel sounds like enough of an idiot to need persuasion.”
Elena was waiting for him just outside her mother’s workroom, clearly listening to the discussion going on inside. As the two of them left the castle, she filled him in on the new developments. “If we can’t make Nigel work with us, there’s an embezzler who we might be able to use in the spell. Apparently, elves own several of the accounts he stole from, and he’s terrified that they’ll find him once he gets out in a few years.”
Cam listened with only half an ear as they left the castle, trying to figure out what was going on inside Elena’s head. He thought she’d offered to go with him so they could talk, but if they were going to keep pretending like nothing was wrong, she might as well go back to the workroom. “Sounds safer than picking someone who’s in for a violent crime.”
“That was the general consensus.” Elena hesitated, then seemed to come to a decision. “I’m not sure he’s our best choice, though. He doesn’t think ahead, so he might agree without thinking through all the implications.”
That sparked his temper. “So could Nigel,” he shot back. “That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t ask them.”
She gave him a sideways look that said too much for Cam to translate. “So you are upset with me.”
The little restraint he’d had left snapped completely. “Of course I am!” he shouted, making the few people who were out on the street turn to stare. He’d spent the entire miserable day trying to be good. He’d let her keep her distance, no matter how much it had hurt, because he knew how fragile she must feel. He’d wanted to go beat his knuckles bloody against something, but he’d stayed close because he’d remembered how much it had mattered to her before.
But Elena hadn’t been licking her wounds and getting ready for the next round. She hadn’t cared about him being close, because she’d been ready to push them all away for good.
She might as well have kicked him in the stomach.
For a while, neither of them spoke. Then Elena cleared her throat. “I’m sorry.” She paused again. “I wasn’t avoiding you because of anything you’d done. It should have occurred to me how rude it would seem to you.”
Cam’s jaw tightened at the completely misdirected apology. Knowing he was going to shout if he said anything, he fixed his eyes straight ahead and kept walking.
Elena accepted this for about ten steps, then he felt her glaring at him again. “Listen, I thought we came out here so we could talk about this. I told you I was sorry, but if you need to shout at me than go right ahead.” When he didn’t respond, she reached out and grabbed his arm to stop them both. When he tried to pry her hand off his arm, she only tightened her grip. “You’re the one who hated the ice routine so much, which gives you absolutely no right to do it now. Talk to me.”
Cam pivoted around to face her. He’d been wrong about the glare—there was challenge in her eyes, not anger. He imagined she’d have a similar expression if she was facing down a dragon.
The fact that he would have killed to see it on her face an hour ago made his chest hurt. “You wanted to give up.”
Elena froze, her eyes widening. “What?”
“Earlier. If your mom hadn’t been there, you would have argued to not use Braeth’s spell at all.” Cam’s voice was strained. “You didn’t even argue that they should have kept the first spell going. You would have been wrong, but I would have at least understood where you were coming from.”
Still looking shell-shocked, Elena hunted for something to say. “Cam, you have to understand—”
“No. I don’t.” He met her eyes, needing her to see how much he meant what he was saying. “I don’t care if you try to keep Bishop from risking his neck for you. We all know the spell’s dangerous, and if there was a better option I’m sure everyone would jump for it in a heartbeat. But you can’t expect me to be okay with the fact that your life seems to be at the bottom of your priorities list.”
Elena just stared at him, a dozen different emotions flickering in her eyes. She swore under her breath. “I’ll show her how ‘alike’ we are,” she muttered, pivoting around and striding down the street. Everyone’s eyes followed her, then looked back to Cam as if he could offer some explanation.
He held his hands out helplessly, no more sure of what was going on than they were. Then he hurried to follow her.
Cam had been to the kingdom’s one and only prison plenty of times—watching its perimeter was one of the border guard’s responsibilities. It was half built into the mountainside, jutting out like the stone itself had reached out. A few prisoners always tried to escape—digging through the mountain was always popular, and only took about forty or so years to manage—and it was the guardsmen’s job to round them up. It was generally more polite than letting the terrain kill them.
Thankfully for Nigel, he was still being kept in one of the row of jail cells down at the city guard headquarters, which was located in an old, sprawling building near the market. There was a minor stir when Cam and Elena arrived—the princess was an unexpected sight in this part of town. Though they’d mirror-called Ross, the sergeant apparently hadn’t told anyone else they were coming.
“Your Highness!” The rookie on duty at the front desk went bug-eyed when he recognized Elena, scrambling to his feet and smoothing his uniform out into some semblance of order before saluting. “Welcome to the city headquarters. We didn’t expect—” He cut himself off with a blush, caught without any kind of script. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—it’s just—”
“It’s okay.” Elena kept her voice gentle, clearly feeling as bad for the kid as Cam did. “We’re here to see one of the prisoners.”
The rookie looked confused at the word “we,” obviously having not registered the presence of anyone else but the princess. When his eyes fixed on Cam, a familiar face to anyone who’d seen his mother’s photo collection, it seemed to steady him a little. “Right away, Your Highness. I just need to get the paperwork from Sergeant Ross, and I’ll be right—”
Before Cam could answer, Ross himself stepped through the doorway. “You don’t bother royalty with paperwork, Palmer,” Ross boomed, the same cheerful tone he used when delivering even his most colorful threats. It generally terrified the new recruits, which meant that he and Cam’s mom got along wonderfully. “Let ‘em through so they can get down to business.”
“Thank you, Sergeant.” Elena was in extra-gracious mode, which usually meant she was nervous. Now, though, Cam suspected she was trying to make some kind of point. “Both of you are wonderful examples of the kind of city guardsmen we can all be proud of.”
The rookie blushed again, but Ross just laughed and waved them on. “Your man’s in the cell on the end, Your Highness. Only one we got in lockup right now, so it’ll be just the three of you.” He met Cam’s eyes briefly. “Figured you two could handle it yourselves?”
Understanding the unspoken offer, Cam nodded and guided Elena back toward the cells. Nigel was right where Ross said he would be, sitting on the edge of his cot with a vacant look. When he caught sight of Cam, he scrambled backwards hard enough that he kicked the cot out from under him. It shot forward, sliding until it hit against the metal bars and leaving Nigel to drop hard onto the cold stone ground.
Elena closed her eyes, pressing a fingertip to the bridge of her nose as if she could already feel the headache coming. Cam did nothing, having decided that even reaching for the handle of a weapon might give the idiot a heart attack.
Finally, Nigel managed to get upright again. “You can’t kill me.” The defiance he was trying for was ruined by the tremor in his voice. “There are officers just at the end of the hallway. They’ll hear me if I scream.”
“I didn’t see them come running in when you had your accident,” Cam said, voice mocking.
Nigel had already drawn in a breath, ready to keep talking. Cam could almost see the air freeze in the other man’s lungs when he realized Cam was right. “Elena, stop him.” Nigel sounded strangled as he pressed himself flat against the back wall. “You know this isn’t civilized!”
“He’s simply making conversation, Nigel,” Elena soothed. “I would think you’d appreciate it after being locked away in here all by yourself.”
“I’m not an idiot. I know a threat when I hear it.” Genuine temper sparked in the prince’s eyes, enough to make him forget that he’d been attempting to flee. “My father made threats all the time, pretending he was teaching me how to be a good son. He said it was for the kingdom’s sake, but I knew better.” His mouth settled into a pout, ruining whatever dignity his anger might have given him. “He was just resentful because I was so much more popular than dim little Frederick.”
“Of course, he is.” Elena’s voice was sugar-sweet. If she’d tried using that tone with Cam, he would have known not to trust a single word that came out of her mouth.
Thankfully, Nigel didn’t seem to notice. “It’s a test. That’s all it is. Young noblemen are given quests all the time, and it’s only right that a king should have experience with this sort of thing.” Nigel was pacing now, talking more to himself than either of them. “All I have to do is come back with the list all complete, an enchanted princess on my arm.”
“Which is where I might be able to help.” Elena spoke just loudly enough to cut off Nigel’s monologue. “Do you need to bring the enchanted princess home with you, or do you just need to save her from a terrible fate?”
“Does that really matter?” Nigel threw his hands up in the air, completely missing Elena’s insinuation. “You’re the only cursed princess in the immediate vicinity, and the only one for miles who doesn’t already have a prince or randomly heroic woodsman hanging off her arm!”
Elena put on her best sympathetic expression. “Unfortunately for you, that appears to be true.”
Relief blossomed on Nigel’s face at the thought of someone finally agreeing with him. “Exactly! And every time I try to have a civilized conversation with you about it, you sic one of your savage watchdogs on me!”
Cam smirked inwardly at the “savage watchdog” comment. He’d have to pass that one on to Dad. “So you’re definition of ‘civilized conversation’ involves kidnapping and hired thugs?”
Nigel squawked a protest, but the much bigger surprise was the sidelong glare Elena shot him. “I’m handling this, Cam,” she said. “If you can’t be polite, perhaps it’s best that you wait outside.”
For just a second, Cam thought that she’d picked the stupidest time in the world to be mad at him. Then Elena’s gaze flickered to Nigel before returning the glare, and Cam realized that she was trying to discreetly inform him that he had better stop screwing up her plan.
Which meant she’d cared enough to come up with one.
Fighting a sudden urge to grin, Cam bowed dramatically and took a step back towards the opposite wall. If she was ready to start fighting, he was happy to do whatever was necessary to back her up. “My apologies.”
“Yes, well.” Nigel sniffed, lifting his chin as he took his own step back. “My point was that I’m only here because my father put me in an impossible situation.”
Elena took a few moments to respond. Cam could imagine her counting out the right number of dramatic beats in her head. “What if we could change that?”
Nigel’s entire body froze, a wild light in his eyes that Cam remembered from the aborted kidnapping attempt. Cam’s hand moved to the hilt of his sword, ready for anything.
Elena edged back slightly, giving Cam room to get between her and Nigel if necessary, but showed no sign of worry. “I find myself in the need of some princely assistance.” She’d turned the sugar back on, full blast. “And if you’d be willing to help, I’m sure we could work together to convince your father to let you return—”
Nigel leaned forward before she’d even finished the sentence, lips puckered as if planning to kiss her through the bars. Elena stepped even further back as Cam moved in, reaching between the bars to grab Nigel’s tunic. When his forward momentum was stopped by a fist, the prince looked confused. Then awareness came back into his eyes. “What is he doing?” Nigel squeaked, sweating a little as he tried to pry Cam’s fingers off him. Any time he accidentally glanced at Cam, his eyes would dart away again. “You said you needed princely assistance!”
Behind him, Cam could hear Elena take a few slow, deep breaths, the kind that usually meant she was talking herself out of homicide. Only then did she touch his shoulder, a warning before she moved around him. He stepped sideways to give her more room, relaxing his grip only a little.
Once Nigel had stopped struggling, Elena tried again. “I’m afraid the task set before you is rather more complicated than a simple kiss.” Though still encouraging, her tone was far more formal now. “I need your help with a spell.”
Nigel stared at her in absolute confusion. “I’m not a witch or a sorcerer. I don’t do spells.”
Cam could feel Elena’s hand tighten briefly on his shoulder. “I don’t need you to cast the spell, Nigel. I need you to be the hero who protects me from it.”
Comprehension seemed to dawn in Nigel’s eyes. Then he opened his mouth and ruined it. “Does the spell involve a kiss?”
Cam thumped Nigel against the bar’s just enough to make a point before letting him go again. “Stop asking stupid questions. She needs you to save her life.”
The threat of danger in the last sentence had been a risk—the man clearly knew how to cower—but heroic fantasies would fit right in with the prince’s usual delusions. Nigel’s eyes lit. “Will I get a sword?”
Elena looked briefly upward at the ceiling before responding, as if praying for strength. “I don’t think a sword will be necessary.”
Nigel’s expression turned mulish. “I want a sword. How can I look princely without one?”
Yeah, that was never going to happen.
“Then I’m sure we can arrange one for you.” Elena lied, leaning forward slightly. “Now, are you ready to take on the quest?”
“I—” Nigel hesitated, then a rare burst of coherent thought hit. “Did you ever tell me what the quest was?”
Elena shook her head in mock regret. “Sadly, I can’t tell you. It’s a secret quest.”
Nigel looked offended at that. “But how will everyone adore me if I come home after fulfilling a secret quest? I can’t tell anyone if it’s a secret!”
“Part of your reward for successfully completing your quest will be a magnificent story to tell everyone,” Elena said easily. Given how little time she’d had to work all this out, Cam was impressed by the level of detail. “And the fact that you saved a princess of the realm and received the grateful thanks of an entire kingdom will be entirely true.”
That awful light was back his eyes, making Cam clench his fists. If Elena didn’t need the creep for her plan . . .”And you’ll come back to my kingdom with me?”
“Sadly, no. I’m afraid that would ruin the story.”
Nigel pouted, then tried again. “But I can tell them anything I want?” he asked, moving close enough to wrap his hands around the bars.
Elena tensed at that, clearly less than thrilled by the possibilities that left open. “Only if I get your word, sealed by magic, that you will follow all of my instructions to the letter. Spells are precise, and if you step at all out of line it could ruin everything.”
This time, it was Cam’s turn to tense. If Braeth’s spell was really that fragile, then suggesting Nigel had probably been one of Cam’s worse ideas. The one thing the prince had proven any good at was causing chaos.
But Elena hadn’t seemed willing to drag one of the other prisoners into this. And if he stopped her now, who knew if she’d be willing to look at other options?
Nigel hesitated. “You’re not going to make me slap myself or anything embarrassing like that, right?”
“No,” Elena said, her voice exasperated.
Nigel shrugged. “Fine. Now release me.”
Elena shook her head. “Not without sealing your vow. Spit on your hand.” When Nigel recoiled at the thought, she narrowed her eyes at him. “Do it.”
Reluctantly, Nigel managed to spit a tiny amount of saliva into his palm. He moved to stick his hand through the bars, flinching back when Cam stepped forward again. Elena made an exasperated noise, then grabbed his wrist and tugged it through the rest of the way.
“Now repeat after me. ‘I will follow all of Elena Randall’s instructions to the letter until I am released from my vow.’”
After he repeated the words, Elena murmured a phrase and sketched a symbol in the air over his palm. As she completed it, the spit glowed white and sank into his skin. Nigel jumped, shaking his hand violently. “What did you do?”“It’s a simple sealing. If you don’t hold to what you’ve promised, the spell will deliver a powerful reminder shock.” When Nigel eyed her with growing unease, Elena reassured him. “Not that you’ll need it, of course. We just want to make sure that everything goes perfectly for your triumphant moment.”
Nigel’s face settled, and Cam told himself everything was going to be fine. Elena had thought of the same thing he had, and she’d made sure a contingency plan was in place. They could do this.
They had to.
Memory
Spring, 18 years ago
It was a week before Ariadne received a letter from Illiana, a single sheet of paper delivered via owl service so it would arrive more quickly. The words were simple, a seemingly calm explanation of her impending marriage and refusal to continue helping with the spell, but someone looking closely could see that many of them were tear-stained.
Ariadne was in no mood to look closely.
She raged, at first, sweeping things off tables and tipping shelves full of her sister’s beloved books until it all came crashing to the ground. Then she sent a windstorm roaring through the tower, not caring what she left destroyed in her wake. She shouted. She cursed. She cried.
But for once, there was no one to listen.
Once she’d wrung herself dry, Ariadne paced back and forth through the destruction as she began to plan how to best make the king suffer for his crime. Even if he promised her all the jewels in his treasury, it would not be enough to atone for the fact that he had taken her sister.
Illiana had always been so quiet and shy—Ariadne should have known she’d be highly susceptible to the kind of romantic nonsense nobles were so good at. No matter how smart Ana was, she wasn’t wise to the ways of the world. The king had blinded her, stolen her away.
That had to be the reason she’d turned away from her beloved sister. From her only family.
Ariadne merely had to find the best punishment for him, something worthy of the crime he’d committed against her. She sorted through the chaos she’d made, digging out her spell books for inspiration. Death would be viscerally satisfying, the more gruesome the better, but murder was illegal even for “evil” sorceresses. Torture ran into the same difficulty, proof that the WSG had defanged them all in an attempt to make them more commerce-friendly.
Unfortunately, she didn’t have the power to go against the ruling body of all sorcery, which meant she was forced to play by their rules. Curses cast outside of a binding contract annoyed them severely, and they policed their ranks with a viciousness that made outside punishments pale in comparison. Still, the risk might be worth it if it could quell the rage and pain burning in her chest.
Unless, Ariadne stopped, struck by a possibility. She’d been hired to curse him with a century of unbreakable sleep—doing so would simply mean she was following through on her original, fully-authorized contract. True, it wasn’t nearly as much suffering as she’d hoped to inflict on the man, but it would effectively remove him from Illiana’s life.
Her sister would be hurt by the loss, of course, maybe even to the point of tears. But hadn’t Ariadne been hurt? Hadn’t she shed her own tears? Illiana would see reason in the end, and they would both forgive the other of their crimes. They were sisters, after all.
The only problem with this plan was that Ariadne still didn’t have a sample of the king’s blood. Acquiring one meant facing her sister head-on, a battle she had no interest in beginning. Ariadne knew she would win, of course—creativity beat out studiousness every time—but there was no pleasure in defeating part of your own heart.
Ariadne’s mind caught on the last thought, examining it from all angles as she would a spell projection. Basic curses worked using biological triggers, but that was only because they were the most obvious representation of the target’s essential nature. Most obvious certainly didn’t mean only. In fact, there might be a better alternative, and the only reason no one else had found it was because they hadn’t bothered looking. The world was full of people who were less clever than Ariadne was.
Still, even clever sorceresses couldn’t just snap their fingers and make something revolutionary happen. Ariadne spent weeks studying emotional representation in spells, trying to find a stand-in that would let her reach out and curse the king. She relied more on experimentation than research, feeling hobbled that Illiana wasn’t there to do her part. Rumors came of wedding plans between the king and his mysterious new bride, further inspiration for Ariadne to continue her research.
Finally, she found the key—heart’s blood.
Ariadne drew the circle, clanking one more time at the childhood trinket of Illiana’s that she’d incinerated to test her idea. Curses and binding spells often worked through physical ties, but emotions were generally the trigger used to break them. Why couldn’t it work the other way? Or even better, combine the two and utilize the power in each. Shared blood and emotion tied Ariadne to her sister. Shared emotion tied Illiana to the king. If she was clever enough, Ariadne could use them both to create a channel that would arrow the curse straight into the king’s treacherous heart.
She was always clever enough.
Ariadne stood in the middle of the circle, using a word and gesture to activate the projection of her original curse. Then, reaching inside herself, she spoke a simple spell she had written herself and called forth another thread of magic from deep inside her own chest. When she pulled it free, it was possible to see little flickers of her sister’s blue magic in the middle of Ariadne’s own purple light.
Then she wove it into the knot she had already made, speaking out loud to focus herself as she adjusted the aim on the spell. “I bind you to the newest star in my sister’s heart,” Ariadne murmured. “Send the new invader into the darkness and leave her free to come home again.” She repeated the words, over and over, as she worked.
When the morning came, she was done.
Ariadne used the engagement party as cover. Knowing Illiana was smart enough to have put up magical protections, she slipped in using a magic dampener, careful makeup, and a stolen invitation. She felt a faint shiver as she passed through the shield, but the dampener made her read as a mere mortal and she passed through unharmed.
The party was exactly the kind of glittery nonsense their parents had always abandoned them for, a fresh betrayal on top of all the others. A backwater little kingdom like this one had barely enough nobles for a tea party, so there were plenty of business owners and other solid citizens dancing and snacking on plates of hors devours. It was ridiculous, and so far beneath her sister she could strangle someone.
She watched Illiana and the king mingle with their guests, noting the guarded look in her sister’s eyes. Perhaps Ana was already questioning her decision, realizing that she’d made a mistake to trap herself in this ridiculous twisting castle in some mountainous backwater. Cursing the king would make Ana stubborn again, Ariadne suspected, but in the end she might even see it as a relief.
And if she didn’t, Illiana couldn’t care too much yet. She’d known the man barely any time at all, and she’d known her sister her whole life. She’d forgive her eventually.
Ariadne felt a flicker of doubt, quickly swallowed by a rush of hatred for the man who’d forced her to feel this way. She wanted the king to taste fear before the blackness took him.
Ariadne waited until formal receiving of gifts, shedding the magic dampener that had kept her hidden. The power returned as a visible blaze, clearly a part of the spell her sister had set up, and the crowd gasped appropriately and backed away from her.
From the twin thrones, the king rose. “Guards, seize her.” His expression was furious, and he moved to stand in front of Illiana as if he had the right to do so. “I know your sister ruined your plans, but I won’t let you hurt her.”
“She’s not the one I want to hurt!” Ariadne shot back, anger erasing any mocking speech from her mind.
“You can’t touch him, Ariadne.” Illiana stepped around the fool, her gaze hardening. “All offensive spells have been blocked by my magic, which means you won’t even be able to stop the guards.”
Ariadne lifted her chin, hurt that her sister would let her be dragged away like a common thief. “I’ve found the one avenue you weren’t able to block, sister dear.” She raised her hand, activating the curse.
The king should have collapsed. She’d seen it a thousand times in her mind, dreaming of this moment. Savoring it, knowing the sight would be the only revenge available to her.
When the moment came, however, it was Illiana who dropped to her knees.
For a second, Ariadne could do nothing but stare in horrified shock along with everyone else. Her little sister curled around her stomach, clutching it, as Ariadne’s mind raced to figure out what could have happened.
Then Illiana looked up, eyes full of stunned betrayal, and mouthed a heartbroken question at her sister. My baby? Why?
Only then did Ariadne understand the full weight of what she’d done. Illiana wasn’t far enough along to show yet, but the curse wouldn’t have cared about that. All it knew was that there was an even newer star in her sister’s heart.
One that would never survive a sleeping curse.
Ariadne reeled in horror at what she’d done. There would be no forgiveness for this. No reunion with the sister she’d so longed to have back. Even her career was in ashes, since she’d just murdered an unborn child. Her unborn niece or nephew.
Ignoring the heartbroken screaming inside her head, Ariadne vanished from the room.