“I promise.”
The next morning, when the Priest and the Grand Prioress came for her, she told them, “I think it’s gone. In the Pits, I felt it all of a sudden go out of me…and I haven’t felt it since.”
“You’re sure?” The Grand Prioress asked, suspicion lining her face.
She nodded. But of course, they wouldn’t merely take her at her word. They’d put it to the test.
Test it they did. Somehow, even during the pain she held it. The daemon was still roiling as they walked her back to her chambers. As soon as she heard the sounds of their retreating footsteps, she used her full weight to move the heavy wooden bed frame. She let the daemon finally unleash, cracking the wooden floor. She pushed the bed back to cover it. But, of course, it wasn’t over. They came for her the next day, too, to be certain. And the day after that and the day after that.
The whip lurches forward with a frightening crack. Her body buckles and re-steels itself under the force. She grits her teeth, the swats coming in sharp stings that fade out into an even worse icy burning. But the stings are nothing to the pain thundering inside of her, bending her in half, contorting her limbs. A strangled groan escapes through her teeth as the daemon rises.
Hold it.
Crack.
Hold it.
Crack.
Hold it.
You hold it. You hold it. You hold it, Pandora.
In my mind, I’mstill there, hands braced to the wall as the whip strikes my back.Hold it.The daemon blares, but an urgent voice cuts through the fog. “Pandora, look at me.”
He pulls at me, shaking my shoulders and patting at my face. I try, but my vision blurs at the edges as the daemon wracks through me. Again and again and again.Hold it.I groan, body tensing with the force of it, and he’s picking me up and hauling me to his chest. No, he shouldn’t do that…why shouldn’t he do that?
He’ll feel it.
I tamp down on that force inside of me, begging, pleading for it to stay there, and my body spasms around it. “Pandora, hey, hey l—look at me,” he says, sounding more panicked now. He cups my chin and smooths my hair. I blink at him as the daemon continues to surge. His brows are pressed over questioning eyes.
“What’s wrong with you?” A groan slips out of me, and the motion of his hands grows more frantic. “What hurts, baby?” His fingers smooth over my skin right over where that violent force inside of merages.
He’ll feel it. He’ll feel it! I push back so rapidly I topple onto the floor, sending pain lancing up my hip, but it’s nothing compared to the waves of the daemon pelting over me.
I scramble to my feet, chest heaving as I look around. Some part of me still expects to see the walls in the House of Shroud. The room where I…I run my hands over my wrists, which are bare of shackles. And then the more lucid part of me is checking for signs I’ve wrecked something. My chest sinks as I spot the painting shattered on the floor. And even worse behind it, the cracks in the wall.
But then he’s there, bearing over me and smoothing his hands up over my wrists. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he coaxes.
I jerk away from him. “Don’t! Don’t touch me.”
Shock splashes across his features as his hands fall loose to his sides.
“What are you doing here?” My voice is too harsh, expectinghimto battermewith accusations at any moment but his face remains free of suspicion, full of concern instead.
He strokes his thumb over the mark on his wrist as he surveys the room, gaze lingering on the shattered portrait. “I felt your fear, and then I heard shattering glass.”
“You…felt my fear,” I repeat blankly.
“The Mark, yeah, alerted me.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Mark alerts me when you’re afraid, so I know when you’re in danger.”
Meaning he’ll be alerted every time I have a nightmare…my heart drops.
“Gods, I thought—“ He breaks off, clutching at his chest and looking around the room as if searching for some kind of threat before his gaze finds me again, brows knitting. “You’re okay,” he sighs. He takes a step forward, hands stretching toward me. “Are you…okay?”
