And even if we did…and I eventually expose myself…He’ll never want me then, once he knows how demented I really am. It would only end in heartbreak…and last night, I got a full taste of what that heartbreak feels like. No, it’s safer this way.
He moves closer, breaths caressing my forehead. “Do you think I would hurt you?” he murmurs. “I wouldn’t. I won’t. Not you, Pandora. Never you.”
But would he…if he knew?
His hand tightens around my face. “Please don’t be afraid.”
But I’m fucking terrified. The daemon strikes. Once. Twice. I can’t be close to him. Toanyone. I press my hand over his, suck in a breath as if I can absorb that one last touch. Look him dead in the eyes, face empty of emotion, as I yank his hand off of me. “Don’t flatter yourself, Sitri. You were only ever my only choice.”
He flinches, the breath pushed so fast through his teeth it sounds like a hiss. He backs up, horror in his eyes like he’s really seeing the truth in those words. Like he really believes it.
Exactly as I want him to, but it still fucking hurts. Another strike. I dig my nails into my palms. It’s Syra’s voice in my head.You hold it, Pandora. Don’t you ever tell anyone the truth.
He turns sharply, shielding his face from me. I stay pressed against the wall, heart pounding, praying he’ll finally leave, but he stands there stiffly for a full minute, clears his throat, and walks over to his shelf of vials.
He pulls something down, and it clinks against the wooden table. “Valeriana, if you’d like to help you sleep. It doesn’t take much.” He doesn’t meet my eyes. His voice isn’t full of venom or pain, just void of emotion as mine was.
Finally, he starts toward his room, and I bound toward the potion he’d set out and take several swallows despite his warning. He stops before the shattered picture and the fissures in the wall and turns back. Stares at me intently. Puzzling. Unraveling me. Like he can see straight to my soul, to the daemon pounding beneath my skin.
My eyes narrow. Of course, that bastard can’t believe that I, or anyone for that matter, wouldn’t be hopelessly in love with him.
Or maybe I’m too obvious.
The door finally clicks shut behind him, and I dive for a pillow. I scream into it, and the daemon finally unleashes, ripping and spilling its cotton innards all over my lap.
When Sitri shakes meawake my eyes are nearly crusted shut. “Sorry, pet but you have to get ready. It’s almost time to go.”
I blink, rubbing at my eyes, until his face comes into view where he’s squatting in front of me. I’m almost blissful to see him until the memories swish over me like a gusting wind, and I abruptly turn away. Go? Right, we have somewhere else we have to be tonight…after the disaster that was last night. The orange light of the sunset flickers through the curtains. I’d slept the entire day away with the amount of valeriana I drank. Thankfully the daemon has calmed into its usual pulse.
I find him lingering near the table, presumably to make sure I wake up, but he doesn’t meet my gaze. Shame curls in my gut, flaring over me so intensely my breath catches. For every part of it. How he found me with another man, begging him so desperately, getting off, and throwing it all back in his face.
I’ve made a complete fool of myself.
It’s better this way, I try to convince myself. He’s getting too close, meddling in things he can’t meddle in. My heart still pangs painfully at the loss.
The mirror dresses me in a long black dress, my cloak, and boots and wraps my hair into two braids, making me appear younger and more innocent than I currently feel.
His eyes sweep over me fleetingly. “Ready?”
I tug my braids forward over my shoulders and nod. We don’t speak as we navigate the hallways and down the spiral staircase, lights blinking on and off behind us. My hands twist in front of me as we cross the grounds. He leads me toward the same Wood we’d traveled to last night.
Magi grouped in clusters fill the field. Spits have been rigged over the many fires, large slabs of meat skewered over the rods. There’s a variety of ages—from elders to small children, who scurry around the many large fires showering sparks to the sky. Drawn by a neighing sound, I turn my head just as a Magi slices the air with his hand, in turn, slitting open the neck of a lamb. He lifts it, drains the blood over the flames, and large red-colored plumes of smoke rise up, followed by shouts of glee from the surrounding Magi. The smell of charred meat wafts through the air.
I shrink in close to Sitri as we weave our way through the crowd. There’s more Magi here tonight and I whip my head back and forth warily at first like I had last night. But my anxiety soon dwindles with the cheery atmosphere. As much as I want to despise them for the witches they are, there’s nothing particularly ominous about tonight.
Children launch sticks and rocks at each other with their magic. How strange it is to see magic coming out of such tiny people. They have none of the grace that Sitri has. Their movements are jerky or suddenly swift. They giggle and shout and create a ruckus. One of them launches a stick and hits an old woman in the back of her head. She turns around to scold them, and I can’t help but laugh.
As much as I want to see them as nefarious, the crowd is much too frolic for me to see them as anything other than people, just like Sitri. Families enjoying a night out together.
What would it be like to be one of them? Living—leading a normal life? I hear people murmuring about us, catching a ‘Nightshade and his Nought’ out of the mix.
Logs have been arranged around the area as seating. Sitri finds us one on the outskirts of the party. He seats himself and gestures for me to take a seat beside him.
I follow his gaze out to Morin. Her and Sitri share a look before she turns to Valik at her side. He leans in close to her ear, and she trails a finger against his neck in a slow slide. My gaze expands over the men around her. Not equipped in their armor but I recognize them all as her Masks nonetheless.
“Are her and Valik together?”
Sitri snorts softly. “One of her many pets.” He shoots me a look of dismay, eyes widening once he’s realized what he’s said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”
