Richer Than God - Amelia Wilde Page 0,47

his laugh, that laugh. “We’re all waiting.”

“I-I…” She can hardly breathe. It must burn. It must sting. I’m drawn to her by a force larger than me. Reya doesn’t try to stop me, and I follow that magnetic pull. This is the answer. This is what happened to me. And it’s been drawn from her by such violence. “I put poison in Brigit’s tea.”

My heart skips a beat. Poison. Somehow, all this time, I didn’t expect it to be poison. I expected her to have done something to it, of course—but real poison? She tried to kill me. Where did she get poison? Questions crowd out the rest of the room, and there’s only me and the light and Zeus.

The whip.

Her skin.

His shoulder flexes, and I jump in front of her, something inside of me breaking. “Stop.” Louder this time. He can’t pretend not to hear me. “Please, Zeus. Don’t do this to her.”

A shake starts down near my feet and works its way up to my neck until all of me is shivering.

“Why not, sweetheart?” Zeus cocks his head to the side. “I haven’t killed her, you know. This is only a deserved punishment for what she did.”

The awful, ugly truth is that I can’t stand it.

The whip is too inanimate. The crack against her skin is closer than breath, closer than tongue. If he’s going to hurt someone, I want it—sickeningly, selfishly—to be me. The part of me that recoils from violence is only a thin veneer. It’s as shallow as a puddle.

The reasons don’t matter.

His fist tightens. Such a simple movement to be able to unleash so much pain. Fear skitters across the surface of my mind, but my body is already moving, putting myself closer to Savannah. This is maybe the dumbest way to die—as a human shield for a girl who hates me.

And maybe I just can’t admit that it’s not only for her that I sink to my knees and throw my arms out. The shadows behind Zeus take on more color and form; the other girls are getting closer. The light catches his eyes, a faint smile playing at his lips, and my mouth goes dry. I’m not the only one who influences his decision. Not in a place like this.

I’ve never been so attuned to a man’s face in my life, which is why I see the change. His smile settles into something sharp and cruel, his perfect teeth a knife’s edge.

Zeus drops the whip.

It falls dully to the floor, useless without his strength. “Let her down then.”

I get to my feet, hands shaking. I won, but… I didn’t. This is like fool’s gold. A victory that disguises defeat. Or a price.

I’ll pay for this.

That’s why he looks so satisfied.

I undo the cuffs holding Savannah to the cross, and she falls like a broken doll, huddling to the floor and bursting into fresh tears. What do I do? I settle for putting a hand on her shoulder. Asking if she’s okay is pointless; she’s obviously not.

Whatever I’ve done, whatever price I pay, it’s set the room into motion again. Someone presses a cold cloth into my hand, and I don’t have time to question where it came from. This place would have a sink. It has everything, including a vengeful king.

More girls brave the light to help me move Savannah, who weeps pitifully all the way to the bed then buries her face in the covers. She cries into the comforter while we tend her wounds. I pretend not to feel Zeus’s eyes on me. I pretend not to feel the storm coming.

20

Zeus

It’s an abomination, all this kindness.

And Brigit, its ringleader.

I can’t bear the way it rips into me, shoving my ribs apart and biting into the soft flesh of my heart. It’s weakness paired with defiance, and the combination makes me lethal.

Reya tries, edging closer to me with her lips already formed into something resembling a distraction.

It’s too late.

Girls in gowns scatter away from the bed when I come for Brigit, some of them ducking. She doesn’t run. She doesn’t even bother to look at me. All her focus is centered on Savannah, the worst of them all.

Brigit’s dress twists into the palm of my hand, and I pull her against me. “Wait… stop—”

I don’t wait. I don’t stop. She begs louder on the way out of the playroom and up the stairs. One of her toes catches on the steps. She’d be dead of a broken neck if it weren’t