“Pheolix,” I murmured. He hesitated then guided my arm through a sleeve. His throat worked once, silent as he leaned me against his shoulder, pulling the dress down over my hips.
My anger washed the room in sudden red at the thought of him ignoring my voice. “Pheolix,” I hissed. He still didn’t respond, hoisting me back up. I shoved him away, swinging my legs down. “I’ll walk.” The first step sent me spinning. He caught my arm before I hit the floor, but I shoved him away again. “I don’t want your help if you can’t even speak to me.”
“Selena.”
I glared up at him. He gazed back, a small notch between his brows. Then tugged my arm over his head, wrapping it around his neck as he picked me back up.
Cebrinne waited at the open door to lock us out, heavy reluctance in her eyes. We didn’t say a word as he carried me down the hall. When a rush of guards passed us, he folded us behind a nearby curtain, waiting for them to pass. His eyes remained locked onto the floor.
We descended a tower’s worth of steps. Every single one. Down the servants’ quarters, to the heart of the palace, under stone and wood and glass. Pheolix finally set me down to dig out Thaan’s key, swinging the door open to a tiny, cold room, barely larger than my wardrobe.
A single bed waited, pressed against the wall.
41
Selena
The mattress was bare, sheets folded and stacked at the foot of the bed. Pheolix set me down beside them, the bed groaning under my weight. Dust plumed softly around me, the taste of it dense over my tongue. He turned and locked the door. Lit the single candle by the bed. Then sidled up to the wall, drawing his knife from his pocket. Flipping it vacantly in his hand as he stared at the floor.
I pulled my legs onto the bed with me, sucking in a sudden intake of air at the sharp pain in my side.
Pheolix’s eyes flicked to mine. “I should have killed him.”
I shook my head. “I need Emilius alive. There are too many unknowns if he dies.”
Swipe. Pat. Click.The blade spun noisily between his fingers. “What will Thaan do with him?”
“To Emilius?” I sighed. “Probably sing to him first. Ascertain everything the King knows about Naiads and what he doesn’t. Then he’ll addle the King’s mind.”
Pheolix nodded slowly, gazing off again.
Addling was perhaps a fate worse than death, though humans would never know if it befell them. As abhorred as the concept of drones being made in secret. An addled mind couldn’t beincanted. Their actions couldn’t be controlled. But they’d believe their addler’s words with blind devotion.
After tonight, Thaan would be able to convince Emilius he’d never lost his memories. But he wouldn’t be able to make Emilius do things the King didn’t want to. Every drop of sanity in Emilius’s head would evaporate, leaving him unpredictable and dangerous.
No more following him to his chambers to sing things out of him. He'd have to be killed eventually, when his eldest son was of age to take the throne. Then theincantingwould return.
A shudder laced through my bones. I trained my eyes on Pheolix, searching for distraction.
“Why won’t you look at me?”
The knife snapped shut. He opened it slowly with his thumb. “I keep thinking,” he said, stopping to creak it closed again, “that I’m sorry.”
“Pheolix,” I chided softly. “Forget what Thaan said. This isn’t your fault—”
“That I laughed.”
I closed my mouth in confusion.
Pheolix’s gray eyes burned softly across the room. “In the tunnels of Paria. When the bloodworm bit me, and Aegir restarted my heart. I laughed because I woke up to everyone staring, and it was obvious I’d died. And you looked at me like it mattered. Like you were worried. Like you cared. It’s been a long time since anyone—” He bit off the end of his sentence. His knife flicked. Opened and closed. “I didn’t know what to do with that look. I didn’t think about what it had been like for you, standing there watching. How helpless you might have felt. So, I laughed.”
I cleared the dry itch in my throat, though it suddenly singed, raw and tender. I swallowed it down. “You saw Perpetuum?”
Pheolix smiled, still watching the floor. “They say if none of your loved ones are there, Death is a friend to guide you home. They say he takes a shape that mirrors your soul. Mine was like a little fox. Tricksy and fast. It jumped around me, wove between my legs. Led me back to the living. What was yours?”
“A wolf,” I murmured.
“A wolf.” Pheolix’s smile faltered, though something softened in his eyes. “Patient and loyal. Death knows you.”
