VALERIE
Long after, when Xavier had taken me back to his study, I sat wrapped in a blanket with a cup of hot tea. Despite my warmth, I could not stop shivering.
I had killed someone. Hadn’t I? I’d stabbed him and heard his groans of pain. I had felt his hand reach out and grab my ankle, and I had kicked him fiercely and ran with Lucia in tow. I had smelled his blood—felt it on my face. I had killed him.
I had killed him.
“I didn’t mean to,” I whispered, my fingers numb around my cup. “He was…evil. I know. But I didn’t mean to kill him.”
Xavier touched the back of my head, his palm large and warm, his fingers stroking through my hair. “It’s alright, Valerie.”
He had worn a worried expression the entire time I was being examined by medics, and even after—now that I was cleared as unhar
