My body trembles, the daemon still pulsing wildly under the surface. I can’t bring myself to look at him. When he moves in my periphery, I flinch, but his footsteps sweep out of the room. He sweeps back in a moment later, clutching a vial in his hand. Some of the fury seems to have bleated out of him, replaced by a general wariness, but his eyes are still so hard. So cold. “Will you take it willingly, or do I have to force you?”
Deadly Nightshade.
He’s going to poison me.
I work a swallow over the knot in my throat, wiping back tears and snot. This is the safest way to be done with all this. “I’ll take it,” I say though my voice is strained. My fingers shake so hard I can barely take the vial from him.
“You dump, I catch,” he says accusingly.
I clutch the vial tight in my hand. You can do this. I uncork it, read the label, and freeze.
Draught of Candor.Not poison. I blink.
“What did you expect?”
“I thought it was…deadly nightshade,” I mumble.
He curses under his breath. “I want answers,” he growls.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, voice flat. I killed someone. I’m dangerous. My fate is sealed.
“Are you going to take it?”
I bring it to my mouth and draw a sip. The flavor is woody yet tolerable. He watches my every movement suspiciously, his jaw ticking. “That’s enough?”
He gives me a single nod, face expectant. I blow out a breath, waiting for the potion to take effect, but I don’t feel anything at all.
“I’ll start simple. Your name?”
The potion straightens my spine, and the words are coaxed from my mouth without my will. “Pandora.”
He looks slightly surprised. “Who sent you here?”
“My father.” Despite my ravaged nerves, my voice is monotone, matter of fact.
His frown deepens. “Where did you come from?”
“Eden.”
“That’s not possible,” he snarls. “No Magi could come from that place.” He grits his teeth when I say nothing. “What motive did you have in coming here?”
“I came to save my sister.”
I can sense his growing frustration. He rises and starts pacing at the end of the bed. “You murdered my aunt Delyah, yes?”
I clamp my mouth shut, binding it against the magic with a grunt.
“Don’t fight it,” he snaps.
“Yes,” I gasp out. I clap a hand over my mouth. It wasn’tme, though. It was the daemon. But I suppose that doesn’t make a difference to the potion…because it doesn’t truly make a difference to me. There’s a spark of satisfaction in his eyes.
“Why?”
“It was an accident.”
The spark in his eyes dims. “You are a Magi,” he accuses.
“I’m not. I’m a nought.”
