The tension had only risen since Russell’s absence. Blaire thought silence would make dinner easier to suffer through, but it just made things worse. It made her wonder.

What was Death thinking? What were all of them thinking? About her? If not, what dark, violent visions stole their attention?

I don’t want to talk, she thought, distressed. But this silence is killing me.

An idea struck her and she placed her fork on her half-eaten plate. It was as much as she could stomach.

Her mouth opened, prepared to speak when-

“Are you finished?” Death asked.

“…Yes,” she answered warily.

“Would you like dessert?”

“No.”

“You’re full?”

Blaire wasn’t, but there was no way she could eat comfortably. She doubted she’d ever eat naturally as long as she remained a captive in this nightmare.

She nodded. “Can I leave?”

“No one leaves the table until everyone has finished dinner. It’s improper,” Death answered coolly.

Blaire’s eyes narrowed. “That one son of yours left.”

Rather rudely, too.

“Russell isn’t known for his manners.”

“So that makes it okay?” Blaire asked, irritated.

Death lifted his goblet of blood to his lips and stared at Blaire through the rim, contemplating, before responding.

“If I say it’s okay, then it’s okay.”

“That’s hypocritical,” she accused.

“You’re free to your thoughts, Blaire, but be careful what you say.”

Blaire tensed at the veiled threat and Death grimaced a few seconds later.

“Regardless of etiquette, you remain by my side as long as I wish. That’s the role as my Chosen.”

“What’s a Chosen, exactly?”

Now is as good as time as any to learn the truth. If she can’t leave until dinner is over-and it appears no one had the intention of finishing their drinks soon-Blaire might as well take advantage of the moment.

“Chosens are humans who serve their master. I own you body and soul, and you remain by my side until death do us part.”

Blaire’s mind unwillingly traveled back to Coal’s room where he ravished a young woman.

“Like Coal’s Chosen,” Death said, reading Blaire’s face.

I feel like I’m going to vomit.

“You’re crazy,” Blaire responded with disgust. “I’m never going to be yours.”

“You don’t exactly have a choice. You lost the right to oppose me when you sold your soul.”

She gaped in horror. “Why--When would I?”

“In the forest twelve years ago.”

Blaire glared. “I don’t remember making any deal.”

“But you did. I said: “A deal has been made”,” Death reminded quite gleefully.

“The deal was you taking Cole,” she grinded out.

“That was a part of the deal. I wanted the both of you the moment I laid eyes on you two.”

“Who cares what you wanted? You took advantage of children! You’re a liar and fucking disgusting.”

Death placed his goblet on the surface of the table politely, but he might as well have slammed it, and Blaire jolted in surprise.

She didn’t have the strength to pull away from his gaze. Those disturbing black pools for eyes reflected her hatred and his…what? Disappointment? Hurt? Anger?

Who the hell cared? Blaire definitely didn’t.

“As I have said before, choose your words carefully,” Death reminded. “I am willing to allow you to speak freely when it is only the two of us, but I will not allow any disrespect in front of the presence of others. That includes my family. Do you understand?”

She understood, but that didn’t mean anything to her. Blaire wasn’t planning on being alone with him any time soon.

“Am I truly that repulsive to you?” Death inquired.

Blaire stared at him, aghast. Her hatred has melted to complete disbelief. How ignorant could Death be? He had kidnapped her best friend and likely turned him into some twisted, brainwashed demon. Now Death wanted to use her as basically a mistress until she died.

“I’d rather swallow broken glass than have you touch me,” Blaire sneered, quite seriously.

“I see. Well, perhaps you’ll feel differently after a good night’s rest,” he offered.

“Doubtful.”

And sleep? She had enough of that.

“You look pale.”

Death reached out to touch a stray strand of Blaire’s hair and she flinched away as if he was fire.

“Fortunately for you,” he started, “you haven’t been made my official Chosen, which means you do not have to be by my side throughout dinner. You may leave, if you want to.”

Blaire waited a moment before reacting, wary of Death’s kind offering. Perhaps he was taking pity on her; willing to let her free for the night.

Fool. As soon as she was out the door, no matter how futile it was, she was going to try to find a way out of the haunted mansion.

“Coal, why don’t you take her tonight?” Death turned to his son. “You’ve escorted her to her room before.”

Blaire went rigid.

What?

A flicker of bafflement passed through Coal’s yellow eyes. “Are you sure, Father?”

“Are you questioning me?”

“Never, Father,” Coal answered instantly, swiftly standing.

Blaire’s mouth opened and closed like a nutcracker, unable to protest.

This ruined her plan, didn’t it?

Didn’t it?