Juliet Immortal

betrayal. Nothing can justify what he did.
Nothing
. “We could have found a way. We were young. We had our health and our minds and our love, we could have—”
    “We would have starved to death,” his says. “We would have
died
in the streets or been murdered on the road by highwaymen for the jewels in your shoes before we reached Mantua.” He stops, looking at me, eyes filled with sadness. “You would have died cursing my name, cursing the day you metme and the day I killed your cousin. You would have died poisoned with hate, and it would have destroyed my soul. And yours. I couldn’t bear the thought of it. I loved you too much. I swear that I did, that I
do
 … or at least, that I will again if you’ll give me the chance.”
    My chest tightens, aches. It’s too easy to imagine the fate he describes, too horribly easy, but I’ll eat my own tongue before I’ll agree he had no other choice. If working for the Ambassadors has taught me anything, it’s that there’s always a choice between good and evil. “If that’s what you believed, then you should have left me.”
    “What?” He blinks, as if the thought never entered his mind.
    “You should have left me with my family in Verona.”
    He shakes his head, dismissing me. “You would have ended yourself in despair.”
    “Maybe, but it would have been my choice.
My
death.”
    He pauses, then speaks in a whisper. “Who’s to say it wasn’t?”
    “And there was a chance I would have lived.” I speak through gritted teeth, ignoring his insinuation that I somehow
chose
to be murdered. “Maybe I would have realized that a coward like you isn’t worth dying for.”
    He snorts. “You forget the time in which we lived, sweet. You would have been ruined, a wife discarded after one night, a—”
    “Better ruined than—” I break off, something in his face making my blood run even colder. “You knew. That night. Before we …” I fight to swallow past the lump in my throat. “You knew that you were going to give me to them.”
    He shrugs, but his eyes stay on the floor, as if he’s ashamed to look me in the face. “The past is meaningless.”
    “It is not.” My lip curls. “It is a testimony to what a monster you are.”
    “We’re wasting time. It doesn’t matter what you think of my choices.” He curses, drives his fingers through his hair. “You must love me or spend eternity in
hell. Those
are
your
choices.”
    “Then I will go to hell,” I say, knowing the second the words leave my lips that they are true. I won’t work this spell. I won’t betray the Ambassadors. Even if they
have
been using me, they have used me to do good, to make the world a better place. I won’t betray that, and I won’t aid Romeo in reclaiming his life. I’ve been
forbidden
to kill him, but I haven’t been ordered to help him live.
    The thought makes me feel suddenly lighter. Even hell doesn’t sound as bad, knowing Romeo will suffer the same fate.
    “You will not,” he growls.
    “Oh, I will. And you will too.” I smile. “It isn’t so nice, is it? Having someone else decide whether you will live or die?”
    His hands strike like snakes, reaching around to the back of my neck, fisting in my wet hair. My eyes squeeze shut at the flash of pain, but I refuse to cry out. I can’t make a sound, can’t do anything to attract Ben’s attention. “I will not let you or your destructive tendencies defeat my chance along with yours. I forbid it.” Romeo pulls my face close to his, whispering the words against my cheek. “You will love me. You will see.” His lips come down upon mine and I taste the stink of him.
    I gag and push at his chest. “Let me go!”
    He holds my hair tighter. “Our destinies are one, our fate is—”
    Suddenly the harsh backstage lights blare to life, blinding in their intensity. Romeo’s grip loosens and I shove him—hard—willing to sacrifice Ariel’s hair in the name of gaining my freedom. The sacrifice isn’t necessary. Romeo’s fingers go limp and slide from my hair without resistance.
    I stumble away, throat working, doing my best not to be sick. Now that I can see him in the light, it’s even clearer that Romeo’s power is fading. I can see it in the faint blue tinge around his lips, the black beneath his eyes, the sagging of the skin on his face. Anyone else looking would see a boy who hasn’t slept well or partied too hard the night before. But I know the truth. Death is already stealing into this