Chapter 68: Vile Magic 3
SÉVERINE
Momentary guilt twisted through my chest. Sharp and unavoidable. The sentinel probably had a name. People who loved him. A life that had been cut short because I’d needed answers badly enough to let my familiar handle the situation without proper oversight.
"What else can I say... I’m sorry."
The apology felt hollow. Insufficient for the weight of what I’d done. But it was all I had to offer.
My grandfather stood. His chair scraped backward across the hardwood with a sound that made my teeth ache.
"You abandon the Beaumont girl plot." His tone carried finality. "Or I expose you myself."
Panic spiked through my chest. Sharp enough to steal breath.
"I can’t."
"You can and you will."
"There’s a sin I committed already." The confession escaped before I could stop it. "And you’ll just have to forgive me."
His eyes went wide, then narrow. Calculation flickered across his features, mixed with dread.
"What... what did you do?"
I twisted my hands in my lap. My nails bit into my palms hard enough to leave marks that would last for hours.
"An Omega will take the blame for what I did."
Silence stretched between us. Heavy and suffocating. My grandfather processed this information with the kind of careful control that suggested he was deciding exactly how angry to be.
Then something in his expression shifted. The moral outrage I’d been expecting never materialized. Instead, his shoulders relaxed slightly. He lowered himself back into his chair with movements that looked almost relieved.
"And that must be the end of it."
The words landed wrong. Because he had been too accepting... Too quick to move past the confession I’d just made.
I looked at him—the man who raised me when my father couldn’t, taught me about pack politics and high society, and always carried himself with such integrity that others trusted him completely.
He was... He was morally bankrupt.
He had darkness, too. Just like me.
It was how easily he accepted it once an Omega could be sacrificed in my place.
Something cold crept through my chest then, ugly and instinctive.
Maybe I’d inherited this from him.
Maybe the reason he looked at me without disgust was because he recognized himself too clearly in what I’d done.
The thought came fast and poisonous, searching for somewhere to place the horror clawing through me. Because if he was rotten too, then maybe I wasn’t uniquely monstrous. Maybe this darkness had always existed around me, shaping me long before I crossed any lines myself.
The realization settled into my bones with terrible clarity. Whatever lines I’d crossed, he’d crossed them first. Whatever darkness I carried, he’d helped cultivate it while pretending to guide me toward light.
Or maybe I just wanted that to be true badly enough to believe it.
"Your father will probably hear of this." He folded his hands on the table in front of him. "He’ll feel guilty. You know him."
"Do I?" Bitterness flooded my mouth. "He has a whole new family, and it has been so long since I have laid eyes on him. I’m mostly regarded as the black sheep bastard whose only connection is the blood in our veins and how constantly I embarrass him at social gatherings."
"That’s not entirely fair."
"Isn’t it?" I met his eyes without flinching. "When was the last time he contacted me? When was the last time he acted as if I mattered beyond being a problem he needed to manage from a distance sometimes?"
My grandfather sighed. The sound carried decades of disappointment.
"You just have to stop." He reached across the table and covered my hand with his. The gesture should have felt comforting. Instead, it felt like a cage closing around my wrist. "The girl is here. If you want her dead, use other means that have nothing to do with magic. Got it?"
I nodded slowly. The movement felt mechanical. Like my body was responding independent of conscious thought.
"There’s nothing much to worry about." I forced my voice to steady. "Because this last sacrifice will give me everything I want. No one will die anymore after tonight."
"Tonight?"
"The Omega takes the fall for the attacks while attacking me. That takes me from anyone’s list, and they will confess to working with rogues. The threat gets eliminated, and Étienne sees that his fixation on his new bride almost killed me." The words came out rehearsed. I’d practiced this justification so many times it had become scripture. "He’ll want to distance himself from her. Push her away. Then I can work on strengthening what we have."
My grandfather studied me for a long moment. His thumb traced circles against the back of my hand.
"And the sentinel’s death?"
"I’m sorry for that." The apology came easier this time. "It was just my familiar going too far. I didn’t intend for anyone to die. Only for the girl to be frightened enough that Étienne would see the bond as a liability."
"Your familiar obeys your will." His tone was neutral, simply stating a fact. "If it went too far, it’s because some part of you desired him to."
The truth of that settled heavily in my stomach. I’d been angry when I’d sent him to the garden. Desperate for answers and willing to accept whatever methods he deemed necessary to get them.
I’d known he might hurt someone. I’d known and sent him anyway.
"As long as the Armont and Montclair names aren’t tarnished." My grandfather released my hand and stood. "You can do what you need to do. But be smarter about it."
He moved toward the door with steps that suggested this conversation was over. That he’d said what needed to be said and now expected me to handle the rest without further intervention.
"Grandfather?"
He paused with his hand on the door handle and looked back over his shoulder with an expression that held more weariness than I’d ever seen him carry.
"Thank you." The words felt inadequate. "For not exposing me. For understanding."
His smile was small and sad. It didn’t reach his eyes.
"I don’t understand, Séverine." He pulled the door open. "But you’re family. And family protects family even when we shouldn’t."
Then he was gone. The door clicked shut behind him with a sound that felt too final.
I sat alone in the dining room. My breakfast had gone completely cold. The eggs looked congealed. The toast had lost whatever appeal it might have had. The fruit arrangement seemed to mock me.
My familiar materialized in his cat form on the table. He padded across white linen and settled near my plate. Its eyes stared back at me.
"Well." His voice resonated in my mind rather than through my ears. "That went better than expected."
"Did it?"
"He didn’t expose you. He even gave you permission to continue as long as you’re careful." His tail flicked once. "I’d call that a victory."
I pushed my plate away. The sight of food made my stomach turn. "That is no victory. I have eyes on my back now, and that means this... Whatever happens tonight has to work as needed."