Matilda's pov

By the time we arrived at the circle, the music was already playing.

I could barely describe the beat of the low, hefty drums as penetrating my backbone and the soil. The celebration torches burned brightly, casting long, curving shadows across masked faces. Moon of Blood. Everything was bathed in red light.

My hands were clammy. Ever since Michael took me away from the crowd, my heart had been pounding. He hadn't inquired. He didn't. His jaw was set and his hand was ...