Chapter 18 A Halo Wrapped Around My Neck #2
But wouldn’t it be for his own good? If he goes to Folkara—if he touches the Weapon at all—he’ll likely die. He’s a Nepenthe, and as much as I wish I could ignore what that means, as much as I wish I didn’t burn with anger every time I remember, it marks him as scum in the eyes of our universe.
And I always burn for it.
“What is it?” Azaire asks.
Sitting on the edge of his bed and catching my breath, I turn to face him. “What?”
“You’ve been staring out the window, at the willow tree.” He presses his lips together. “You do that when you’re avoiding something.”
I pull my bottom lip between my teeth. I thought I was on track to find the Weapon and do something. For Ma. For the universe.
Today the goal has never felt so far.
It feels worse than far. It feels like it’s falling into Azaire’s lap—the last thing I ever wanted.
Other than my family, I’ve never had someone sense my emotions. And, to a lesser extent, that’s exactly what Azaire’s done—he’s gotten to know me well enough to know when something is wrong.
I’m avoiding the conversation I’m desperate to have. That I think we might have to break into Folkara, no matter how bad the plan is.
That I don’t think he should be the one to do it.
I should be, if Lucian isn’t around. He and I have the most riding on this. Not Azaire. He’s an innocent bystander, pulled in because he cares about us.
And by Zola, does he care. I feel it every day. It settles deep in my bones, down to the marrow. I’ve been running from it since the night of the party.
Now I’m forcing myself to sink.
Everytime I try to run, I tie boulders to my feet.
“We can’t keep waiting around for him,” I say, stepping closer to Azaire, toward his desk.
I’m right.
We can’t.
It leaves our options limited.
“He’ll come back to himself,” Azaire says.
His worry and slight disbelief shakes me. Maybe Lucian is too far gone.
“I know.” I say it for his sake. “What we don’t know is when.”
He reaches for my hand, and instinct has me ready to pull away.
I don’t.
“What do you want to do?” he asks, pulling me toward his chair.
I stand between his legs and squeeze his hand. “Go to Folkara.”
It was always the contingency plan we hoped we wouldn’t need.
Azaire nods—misunderstands. “Whenever you want.”
“Not you.” My eyes widen, but I hold his gaze, feeling every ounce of his shock. “I’m going to do it. Alone.”
He loosens his grip on my hand slightly—subconsciously—and shakes his head. “It doesn’t make sense,” he says. “I can scale and morph through the walls, get in and out.”
“And if you’re caught?” I ask. It’ll be worse than what’s already happening to him at the academy—all the volunteer groups, all the pointless pain. The government of Folkara, the Royals, will have no problem killing a Nepenthe. We both know it.
“Wendy that’s…” he trails off. “It’s kind of exactly what I was made to do.”
“You were made to bring yourself to the brink of death every time your friends need something?” My mouth flips upside down, inside out.
Azaire shakes his head a bit. “That wasn’t—that was once.”
“And this could be twice,” I say firmly. He frowns, matching my expression. “I’ll do it,” I add decisively.
“Wendy—”
My chest tightens. “I’ll be fine. At least they won’t kill me.” I shrug. “It’s not like it’s Ilyria.”
I’m not actually sure one kingdom is any better than the other. Not anymore.
“Wendy,” he says again. But he doesn’t continue.
His unspoken words choke me.
“Say it,” I demand, recoiling at the strength in my voice. I begin to shake my head, to mutter my apologies.
But Azaire picks up my hands, rubbing circles into them, softening my edges. His frown is heavy, his emotions dreary. But his voice is soft. “Who says they won’t kill you?”
I have to look away, unable to meet his gaze. There’s only one thing left to say—one undeniable truth. I could lie, but I’m learning there’s no point in lying to Azaire.
I push it out, ripping a petal from a rose. Pricking my finger on the thorn.
“I don’t care if they do.”
Aziare takes a—disapproving—breath and I can’t help but pull my hands from his. His mouth opens, and I cut him off.
“At least I’ll die doing something important.”
“Your life is important!” Azaire shouts.
“And you’d be willing to risk it if it was yours!” I retaliate.
It’s been so long since I’ve screamed. My vocal chords rub together like sandpaper.
A fight rises in me—half his, and half mine.
But it only makes me stronger.
I slowly reach my hand to his shoulder, planning to hold him down. Make sure he can’t look away from me, should he try. “I have Calista’s favor,” I tell him. It’s not the truth, but he doesn’t know. “I’ll be fine.”
My hand is inches away from him.
“If Queen Melody or King Easton caught you, she couldn’t stop it,” Azaire argues.
I know he’s right. Calista couldn’t stop her parents.
“If anyone gets close, I wouldn’t even have to touch them to change their minds,” I remind him.
I’m dangerous. More than anyone would expect from a Eunoia.
Once I look into someone’s eyes, my words are the only truth. I’m more powerful than the rest of my people. More deadly.
Others can control emotions. I demand them.
My fingers hum beneath the gloves. I feel the terrifying force prickling beneath my skin—my very nature. I could take over the world, person by person, meld their minds to one.
Mend them to my will.
Carefully, I rest my hands on Azaire’s cheeks, forcing his gaze to meet mine before he can realize what I’m doing.
The saddest part is, he doesn’t even suspect it.
It gives me a momentary pause. He sees me so purely, believes in me so completely. I’m going to crush that faith like a bug. But for just one more second, I want to linger in his purity—the innocence I’m about to strip from myself, a burden he will never know.
For one last second, I breathe in his fresh air.
Then I light the match.
“You don’t want to go to Folkara. But you support me going.” My voice takes on a terribly intoxicating tone. His emotion bends to me like clay—the way the boy should have. The way Azaire never should.
But this is for Ma.
“You understand the risks,” I whisper, “but you believe in me more.”
I watch him, feeling a piece of my heart chip away—like a fragment breaking off a fragile vase. I can glue this small shard back, but the scar will never fully disappear.
I’m taking something from myself: his integrity.
Watching closely, I wait for his mind to change—wondering if maybe I’ve failed.
Maybe because his snakes didn’t kill me, my power won’t be enough to control him.
Maybe I can take it back. Maybe he can see what I did, then see beyond it, understand me more deeply than before.
Maybe he’ll understand what this means to me, and together, we can find a way forward.
The hope in me shatters as Azaire nods, his expression unreadable, as if the weight of my power has numbed him. I can’t bear to hold his gaze any longer, so I turn away. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him shake his head, the fog in his eyes clearing as he forces himself back into focus.
“Before you do this, I have to ask…” His words trail off, and he tugs on the sides of his beanie. “Can I… can I hold you?”
I don’t know if that hurts or helps my cause.
“My hands?” I shake my head. I don’t deserve to be asked. “I’m sorry it’s—”
“Not possible?” he answers for me. He’s gotten awfully good at reading me. But not good enough to know what I’ve done to him.
Surprisingly, Azaire reaches to his beanie. He takes a deep breath. My blood spikes, my heart beats. Thorns rise from his emotion, just beneath my skin, daring to emerge.
With one movement, he pulls the beanie from his head, as if he’s laying himself bare for me.
Green and gray snakes hiss around his face, their tongues flicking in and out, their scales shimmering in the light. As they meet my gaze, even they are surprised I am still made of flesh.
I watch in awe.
Azaire’s eyes are alight, the brightest color I’ve ever seen. They could pierce through any darkness, even my own.
He looks at me like I’m the only thing that matters—the center of his world, the home he never knew he needed.
He looks at me like he loves me.
I fear he feels it, too.
I want to look away, but I already know that no matter how I try, I’ll never be able to again.
I am his.
But I’ve already proven that there is no worse fate than being mine.
“It’s not possible for someone to survive my snakes either.” Azaire’s voice barely carries.
Aeliana and Persiphis.
The constellation. One of Ma’s favorites.
It’s not fair to hold onto that now, after what I’ve done. It’s not fair to hope.
Yet, I look down, staring at my gloves.
I think: What if?
I say, “These kinds of things never end well.”
It’s stupid to think like that—to wonder.
Aeliana was a Eunoia with a power no one else had, either.
It’s stupid to think like that. I don’t deserve to be touched after what I’ve done to him.
“You’re the only one who’s seen me and hasn’t died. It’s fair to reason I’ll be the same for you,” Azaire says with a shrug and a voice full of heart.
As I flex my fingers, I know how deeply I long to hold him close. To hold him and never let go.
To wrap my hands so tightly around him that he leaves indents in my skin.
It could kill him.
But it isn’t fear for his life that gives me pause. It’s fear for mine.
I am not worthy of a touch, after all I’ve done. And I’ve only proved this tonight. I’ve killed and manipulated…
But I look at his cobalt blue beanie. The thing that protects others from him.
And I look at my brown leather gloves. The thing that protects others from me.
But not well enough to protect him.
We’re eerily similar, the two of us. I fear it means more bad than good.
He’s my venus fly trap. Or, more accurately, I might be his.