The Black Key by Amy Ewing Page A

that,” I murmur.
    Cora’s head whips up. “You don’t think I know that? I brought something good into this circle. I brought something pure and innocent and it was destroyed. I was powerless to do anything to stop it. She promised me. She promised . And then you came along and fell in love with that stupid companion and got her killed.”
    â€œI’m so sorry.” The words feel hollow, meaningless. Feeling sorry won’t bring Annabelle back. “I loved her too, you know.”
    â€œI know.” Cora puts the picture back on the mantel. “That’s why you will do this for me. For the love you bore her and the debt you owe me.”
    â€œWhy do you need me to do it? Why not some other servant in this palace?”
    â€œBecause another servant would turn me in for money or higher status. You don’t have that power. I could have you arrested right now. The Duchess could have your head cut off, or simply tie you up in the medical room with your sister. Either way, you’re dead.”
    She makes a good point. “Why don’t you do it yourself?”
    Her expression is pained. “I can’t. I have been with the Duchess since she was ten years old. No matter how much I might want to, I . . . I cannot kill her.”
    I might hate the Duchess, I may want revenge forAnnabelle, but cold-blooded murder is not something I can see myself doing either. But I see only one option here—to agree to Cora’s plan. And if I can wait until Auction Day . . . I might not have to kill the Duchess at all.
    â€œAll right,” I say. “I’ll do it.”
    â€œOf course you will.”
    â€œAnd the Auction will be the perfect time,” I say.
    She frowns. “The Auction is a month away.”
    â€œThink about it. She’ll be distracted then. Lots of commotion, dress shopping, dinners being planned . . .” I’m a little concerned at how convincing I sound, even to myself. “You’ve been waiting for months already, what’s one more?”
    Cora considers me for a moment. “I always thought you were a bit on the dim side,” she says. “I’m glad I was mistaken.”
    â€œThanks,” I say, bristling.
    â€œOf course,” she says, taking a step toward me, “if you double-cross me in any way, or fail to complete this assignment, you will not live past the Auction. I may be unable to kill my mistress myself, but I have no qualms whatsoever about killing you.”
    â€œUnderstood,” I say.
    â€œGet some sleep,” Cora says. “You’ll need it. There’s a bell by your bed that Coral will ring when she’s ready. One rings in the kitchen too. You must always be up and ready before she is. She takes her breakfast in bed and then you’ll need to pick out something for her to wear. Make sure she looks classy.”
    â€œI remember some things,” I say. “From Annabelle. She always knew what to dress me in.”
    A muscle in Cora’s jaw twitches. “Yes. She was very good at wardrobe.” She sits back in the rocking chair, but her posture is tense, her back ramrod straight. “You’re dismissed for tonight. Try not to speak in front of her ladyship; your voice is altogether too familiar.”
    â€œI will.” I stop at the door. “Cora?”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œDo you have any particular . . . way that you’d like me to kill her?”
    Her eyes are black stones, dark and cold. “I want you to cut. Her. Throat.”
    I slip out the door, my mind racing.
    â€œ Y OU’RE SUPPOSED TO DO WHAT ?”
    â€œKill the Duchess,” I whisper. “More specifically, cut her throat.”
    Raven makes a noise somewhere between a gasp and a cough. It’s muffled through the arcana.
    â€œDon’t worry, I told her I’d do it at the Auction, which, if all goes according to plan, should negate any murder pact I’ve