Montague Von Vexx's Arc

Chapter 5 of 11

The fire threw a wide gold light across the open page. Montague held the journal flat on his knee and read the first line in a steady voice. The words were simple. A date. A place. And then the name of the one who had given the order to bury him. Wisteria's hand moved before his voice finished the name. She reached across from the red velvet chair, fingers steady, and pressed the cover shut over his thumb. The leather made a soft, final sound. Alastair had not heard the last word. He was still watching the fire. "Not that line," Wisteria said. Her voice was low and even. "Not yet. Not like that." She did not lift her hand from the journal. She looked at Montague, and her red glasses caught the firelight. "He needs to hear it. But not as a sentence read off a page. He needs to hear it from you." Montague held very still. He could feel the heat of the hearth on the side of his face. He could feel the weight of her palm through the leather. She was not protecting Alastair from the truth. She was protecting the way it would land. He understood, then, that she had already chosen to stand with him in this room — not for him, but with him. It was the first thing she had given him that he had not earned yet. "All right," Montague said. He closed his hand over hers for one breath, then let go. He set the journal on the small table beside the chair. Alastair turned from the fire at last, eyes sharp, waiting. Montague drew a slow breath and began again — this time without the page. This time in his own words.