Never

Chapter 8: Oath

Thaddeus's POV:

Living a long time meant nothing could really shock or rattle you anymore. After centuries of watching people do unspeakable, stupid, and completely insane things, I'd grown a sort of numbness to it all. It wasn't easy to shock me, surprise me, or even upset me. Not really. Sometimes I portrayed myself to be those things just so I wouldn't come across as a robot, but it never went deep. Keeping an even head was important.

Important and completely impossible around that stupid bratty human, Winter. I'd never felt so much rage for an inconsequential human in my life. My brother was having a field day.

"This picture Winter sent me, did you see it?" He laughed, holding out his phone. "Juliette is losing it over this. She sent actual emojis. Juliette sent emojis. That's how funny it is."

"You sent that to our sister?" I said, narrowing my eyes. He nodded. "Why?"

"Why?" He frowned, looking away from the screen and up at me. "Because it's hilarious, Thaddie."

"I have scars," I snapped.

"I told you to not try to kill her," he shrugged. "Your fault."

"Kristoff, she's dead," I said flatly. "I'm done. I'm fucking burning up her forest, her home, and then I'm going to throw her into one of her little traps."

"No you're not," Kristoff said, setting his phone down and picking up a book instead. "You're always talking about all the important things you have to do, why don't you focus your energy there instead of holding a grudge?"

"A grudge? She almost killed me!"

"And you were on your way to kill her," Kristoff countered. "You're even."

I glared at him but he didn't even spare me a glance. He just continued reading.

"I'm not messing around this time," I said, moving to the exit. "A little birdy told me where she'd be this afternoon. Find yourself a new Firestarter because this one's dead."

"Thaddeus," he called out. I ignored him and continued out the door. "She has Beatrice's knife."

I stopped in my tracks. I couldn't have heard that right. He did not give that knife to a fucking psychotic human.

I walked back into the room calmly and crossed my arms. "I beg your pardon?"

"She has Beatrice's knife, so you can't kill her, or we'll never find it."

"Kristoff, I was wrong. You're both dead."

Kristoff snorted and turned the page of his book. "Spare me the dramatics. You love me too much to kill me. If you didn't, you would've done it decades ago."

"Beatrice's knife?" I repeated. He nodded. "The very important knife I entrusted you with, the one I told you no one could know about, the knife that cannot be replicated in any way ever again because the witch who made it is dead? The only thing that can kill the fucker working with The Elders and threatening Enid's life, is in the hands of that insane little shit?"

"Mhm," he nodded, frowning at the page. "Oh come on, who wrote this? That's not how it happened. You know the problem with history books?" He asked, looking up at me. "The winners write it, and they make themselves sound like the good guys, completely twisting the factual information. One of us should've been a historian to prevent this bullshit from getting printed."

"Why the fuck," I said, slamming my hands on the desk, "would you give her Beatrice's knife? I gave it to you for safe keeping."

"Thaddeus, I know you hate Winter, but for one moment, separate the woman from the facts," he said, leaning back in his chair. "When's the last time someone actually caught you in a trap? How difficult was it for you to even get as far as you did?"