Scratch was sick of the lies and sick of the loss, but Brella had lost something, too. She had killed someone today, and Scratch knew from personal experience how that changed a person. Brella would have to be made of stone not to ache. And the woman wasn’t done losing. In forming a blood bond with Scratch, a Passenger she hadn’t chosen, Brella would lose the promised, special thing her parents had told her to wait for. Scratch had told Lollie that Brella would be fine. Brella wasn’t fine. Only Vel and James, gazing at each other like a pair of loons, seemed to be on the good side of all right.

“Well.” James looked up from his parchment, green eyes gleaming. “Shall we get bloody?”

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Brella and Scratch were dispatched to the lavender room by a giddy Nana, who insisted the pair perform the ritual on their own. Brella trudged silently to the giant’s guest room, Scratch following nervously behind. When they got inside, Brella stood in the middle of the room, her shoulders hunched. She stared out a window, watching lavender set ablaze by the orange light of the setting sun.

“Brella,” Scratch tentatively ventured, “are you sure you want to do this?”

“It’s not about what I want.” She didn’t turn around. “We’re doing this. We have to.”

“You seem . . . Do you want to . . .” She searched for the word, which, all things considered, wasn’t a particularly good sign. “Talk?”

“You want to talk.”

It didn’t have the inflection of a question, but Scratch answered anyway. “Uh, yes?”

“About . . .”

“I get that this is a big deal for you.” Scratch jammed her hands into the shallow pockets of her borrowed pants. “You know those magic words by heart. Your parents did this together. They told you it was—” She swallowed. “Special. If you don’t want to do this with me, I get it. We can find another way.”

Brella turned to face her, expressionless. “Another way?”

“Look, I get it.” She cursed the lack of easily accessible chairs. This conversation was knocking at the back of her knees. “I’ve run out of options. I had this whole life planned.” Her voice broke. She swallowed shamefully, hoping the lack of direct sunlight hid the redness around her eyes. “I had a whole plan, you know? I thought I would be a commander. And then the king I spent my whole life either serving or training to serve declared me his enemy without even affording me the dignity of an interrogation. So I get it. I’ve lost . . .” The list was too long. “I’ve lost everything that matters to me, aside from James. I don’t have a lot of choices left. I can either come with you to rescue the princess or die in the forest, I guess.” She managed a weak laugh. It hung sticky in her hot throat. “But you . . .”