Bound by Prophecy (Descendants Series) - By Melissa Wright Page 0,41

on the line of her neck, the curve of her lips. I could still see the way the sunrise colored her face through the hotel window, could still recall the sweet scent of her shampoo.

A horrified, “No,” slipped from Emily’s lips and then her feet fell from the desk to land hard on the floor beneath her. She was suddenly standing, staring at me. Terrified.

“What is it?” I asked, around the desk before I’d had time to process her reaction.

The folder fell away, and only the stack of papers remained in her hand, thirty or so pages back.

“Emily, what?” I begged.

Her eyes fell to the paper, her other hand pointing to a small, insignificant line. It was an address, a city southwest of here. I didn’t understand the connection.

“My mother,” she whispered. “Oh no, no, no—”

I grabbed her arms, gave her a firm shake to make her look at me.

“This address, this is where we lived…” She looked sick. “When my mother was taken.”

Chapter Eighteen

Revelations

I put a hand on a gasping Emily’s waist to usher her to my room. I had a feeling no one from the Division needed to hear our conversation. We were no more than through the door when she turned on me.

“Where did you get this?”

I watched her, not the stack of papers in her hand violently shaking in my direction. “We—” I stopped myself. “The Division has information-gatherers. Spies.”

She threw the stack to the floor, where it landed soundlessly on plush beige carpeting. “And they found them with Council. Do you know what that means? Do you?”

I stared at her. I had a feeling my idea of what it meant and her idea of what it meant were on two different planes.

She took a step toward me, a threat in her voice. “It means your people did this, Aern. Not the Division. Council, the ones we’re supposed to trust.”

My instincts told me to back slowly away, but my mouth had other ideas. “You know they aren’t to be trusted now. You heard the report. Morgan has figured out a way to sway our own kind—”

“No,” Emily said. “Not now. This isn’t a new report. My mother, our mother, was taken before Morgan got this sway—”

Emily suddenly grabbed her middle as if she’d been punched in the gut. “Oh no,” she groaned, shaking her head.

I reached for her and she put up a hand between us. “No. No, Aern, I… Oh no.”

“For the last time, what is it?” I was hovering over her where she hunched forward, my hands helplessly waiting.

“Nothing,” she said, waving the hand she’d held up. “Nothing, I, I have to…”

Her words were lost to me as she leaned over to pick up the papers. She was wearing clothes Brianna had gotten for her, clothes I presumed were Emily’s usual style, and the hem of the fitted Henley that had rested at her waist rode up to reveal the skin of her lower back.

“Christ,” I said. “Oh, Christ.”

Emily’s head turned to find me, momentarily distracted from her own agitation. She opened her mouth to ask “What?” and then her eyes, her wide, sea-glass-green eyes, followed mine and she realized what I’d seen.

My stomach turned. “Tell me it’s only a tattoo.”

She straightened, face pale despite having just righted herself.

I stepped closer. “Emily, tell me. Tell me you got a tattoo. Tell me you stayed out late, fell in with the wrong crowd, made some bad decisions, tell me you woke up with this and have no idea how it got there.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Ancient blood rite symbols? I don’t think so, Aern.”

I could see that she was embarrassed at my reaction, but I couldn’t stop myself. I grabbed her waist, spun her around, and moved her shirt aside to bare the top of an inked design on her lower left side.

She glanced back at me over her shoulder. “It’s not, it wasn’t like that, Aern. My mother. She… I told you about her. You know.” She was mortified now, having to explain her crazy mother’s ideas. “She did it when I was too young to argue with her.”

But her mother wasn’t crazy. She was a prophet. I swallowed hard before running my thumb over the design.

The words were stuck in my throat, choking me. All of it, the whole ordeal would have spilled out, but something like a single weak cough was all I could manage.

Emily turned slowly toward me, the gravity of my reaction sinking in. This wasn’t about some tattoo. This was