Chapter Thirty-Eight – continued
Camille liked to think she was not an angry person. Certainly, she would jump into things without thinking, but she was also Genevieve’s daughter. She would not let her anger get the best of her. But she would protect her family at all costs. Considering her family had been ripped in half, she would do anything to protect Abigail.
She dropped the glass back to her chest, uncaring if Muriel saw it. It wouldn’t matter anyways.
The lock turned and the door pushed open, accompanied by Muriel’s sing-song voice.
“Camille, darling, here’s your morning meal. I hope you’ve signed the papers.”
Muriel had barely cleared the doorway when Camille was on her, the letter opener pressed to her chest. The other woman shrieked as the tray crashed to the floor and tea spread across the carpet.
“I will sign no papers,” Camille said, her voice low and dangerous. “And you will not starve my sister to death.”
Muriel, for all she’d played the haughty noble woman, was little more than a terrified gnat. She was shaking as Camille leaned over her, her eyes glued to the sharp end of the letter opener pressed to her skin.
“Please, Camille,” she whispered. “I only did as Madeline asked.”
Camille pressed her lips together. She could feel herself shaking with fury, but her hand holding the opener was steady. She pressed a little harder, drawing a drop of blood.
Muriel shrieked, but calmed slightly when Camille let up on the pressure. Her frightened eyes met Camille’s. “Definitely sharper than the ones in the other world.”
“Is my sister in the fae tower?” Camille demanded.
Mutely, Muriel nodded, her eyes back on the opener.
“Does Madeline mean for my sister to die there?”
Again, Muriel nodded, and Camille could feel her body shaking.
“Please,” Muriel whispered, “don’t hurt me.”
“After everything you’ve put my family through?” Camille asked, furious. “It’ll be kinder than turning you over to the King.” She smiled, but there was no mirth. “I heard the bells. I know Adrian is King now.”
At that, Muriel’s eyes snapped up to hers. “And Madeline will be his Queen once Abigail dies.”
Camille pressed down on the letter opener, drawing another shriek and a trickle of blood. “That, Stepmother, will never happen.”
Determination thrummed through her as she pushed herself up, but Muriel’s relief was short-lasting as Camille hauled her fully into Madeline’s rooms. She pushed her to the floor, just as Muriel and Madeline had done. Muriel cowered as Camille stood over her, the letter opener, the tip now stained with Muriel’s blood, still held in one hand.
“You’re a disgusting wretch with a terrible sister,” Camille spat. “You should never have come back.”
With that, Camille whirled away and slammed the door closed. She took great pleasure in locking it, and pocketed the letter opener.
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