CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
ALYSSUM
Iwas a storm trapped in flesh.
My heartbeat had never pulsed this quickly. Every breath was a tremor buzzing through my ribcage, though my hands did not shake. As I focused my attention on the footfalls sounding from the corridor, I wondered how long I could sustain such levels of energy before my body gave out.
I remained perfectly still despite the nervousness coursing through my limbs, but I was not prepared for this.
Of course Anise had done her best to train me, despite how untrainable I seemed to be.
But each and every time I found myself in this exact position, the outcome had been the same; I had never had the courage to do what needed to be done.
Until now.
The door hinges clicked and Vayen pushed her way inside. Without glancing up—because of course she wouldn’t be worried about anything I might do—she dropped a small, linen rucksack on the table before turning on her heel to meet my storming eyes.
By then, it was too late.
I had her up against the wall, the edge of my blade kissing the soft strip of skin between her jaw and neck.
Vayen’s chin lifted, an undoubtedly reflexive attempt at distancing herself from my dagger, though distance it did not create. She stared down at me with flared nostrils, pupils swallowing the silvers and greens of her eyes until I could find nothing there but an unsettling pool of black.
I refused to be frightened.
Slowly, she let her arms fall, dropping the bags she’d carried with a thud that would have startled me had I not been consumed by my nerves. By my rage.
Vayen’s throat bobbed with a swallow, but I waited for her to speak first, perhaps enjoying the power I felt beneath my blade more than I should have. It was her turn to break the silence.
“You smell a lot better than when I left,” she said through tight lips.
“Stars above, do you want me to draw blood?”
“I’m merely commenting on—”
“Well don’t,” I snapped, careful not to loosen my grip on the dagger.
I still could not master my breath, and each inhalation stuttered in my lungs.
“Begin binding your wrists together,” I commanded, angling my hip so that she could reach the remnants of rope sticking from my belt.
“Obviously you won’t be able to tighten it properly, but get it close enough and I can manage the rest.”
Vayen did not move. She studied me with an expression that was decidedly empty, save for the tempest in her eyes.
“I said—”
“I heard you,” Vayen interrupted, her voice low. “I’m thinking.”
“I’m not allowing you time to think. Grab the rope, or I will cut you.”
Her attention never wavered from my face, not once.
The way her gaze flitted from my brow, to my eyes, to my lips…
she sought information from me that I was unwilling to relinquish.
We existed in that moment longer than I would have liked, our bodies too close and the scent of sunlight on her skin a distraction I could not allow.
Those dark brown curls skirted the tops of her eyebrows, less furrowed than I would have expected given what I’d done.
“I’m going to reach for the rope,” Vayen said finally, lifting her hand with an unhurried momentum before grasping the frayed braid and tugging it from my belt.
She held it in her hands, a soft sigh punctuating the charged silence of our room.
“Unfortunately, as much fun as it would be to let you restrain me—”
A gasp slipped from my lips.
“—I won’t be tying myself up. Not today, anyway.”
“Don’t… don’t do that,” I seethed, leaning forward to apply pressure to her chest with my available forearm. I pushed her harder into the wall, disallowing my mind from wandering to the implications of her words.
“Do what?”
My tone was scalding as I sneered at her. “You know exactly what. You wield innuendo to disarm me, but it won’t work. I’m not…”
When I didn’t continue, Vayen’s eyebrows rose expectantly. “You’re not…?”
“I’m not affected by you like that,” I managed with a lifted chin.
“Considering you’ve all but forgotten the rope I’m meant to be restraining myself with, I don’t know how convincing—”
I increased my pressure on Vayen’s neck, summoning the smallest beads of red where metal met light brown skin. It took every ounce of my willpower to do it, but the evidence of my success smeared against her neck in crimson.
I expected her to inhale sharply, or lift her chin higher to avoid my blade, but instead she stared, unmoving, her black eyes refusing to relinquish mine. Why wasn’t she reacting? Was she underestimating me once more?
“I am the one in control.” I leaned in closer, the gap between our faces shrinking as I stretched my neck. “You may think I don’t have it in me, but I can assure you that would be a very unfortunate miscalculation on your part.”
“What exactly is your plan?”
“Excuse me?”
“Once you’ve got me all tied up. How long do you think I’ll stay that way? And how do you plan to evade me once I’m free?”
This woman was infuriating. Not only was fear absent from her features, but my body seemed considerably more tense than hers. She was almost… relaxed. Relaxed enough to repeatedly disobey my commands and ask me questions I had no intention of answering.
Truthfully, there hadn’t been enough time to come up with a solid plan, and what little time I’d had was spent debating whether it might be wiser to attack while she was sleeping.
Or on the outskirts of the village, on our way to crossing.
But I couldn’t risk her returning with more lullawort and carrying me across the Threshold unconscious.
All I knew was that I had to distance myself from her as quickly as possible, because she was right—any bindings I managed to fashion in this room wouldn’t slow her down much.
I wondered if Rummy would submit to my command without Vayen, or if his loyalty ran too—
“No plan, then?”
“Of course I have a plan,” I lied quickly, “but I’m not very well going to offer it up to you, now am I? Your only concern should be tying your damn wrists before I slit…”
The sudden, unexpected, and undeniably luscious scent of citrus peel stole the words from my throat.
“What is that?” I asked, confusion scrunching my features.
The corner of Vayen’s lip quirked, threatening a smile that might very well have sent me over the edge. Luckily for us both, it disappeared a moment later. As the aroma grew stronger, perfuming the space around us, I knew I hadn’t imagined it.
“I asked you a question.” I pressed my forearm harder into her chest, steeling my expression.
“Citrus peel cookies,” Vayen said simply.
My mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, undoubtedly undermining the menacing presence I needed to maintain.
A mouthwatering whiff of the baked goods assaulted my senses, and for the first time since Vayen’s return, my gaze left her face, flitting to the small linen rucksack she’d placed on the table.
“You were out and about, preparing for a journey that very well might lead to both of our deaths, and realized that what you desperately needed was citrus peel cookies?” I asked through my disbelief.
“I actually don’t care for them myself.”
My eyes returned to hers, the blackness that had swallowed them slowly dissipating to reveal the captivating silver-greens of her irises.
She couldn’t possibly be saying what I thought she was saying. But what were the odds she just happened to return with my favorite dessert, one that she herself didn’t enjoy? I felt like a complete idiot as the words left my mouth, and the helpless way my voice cracked didn’t help matters much.
“You bought… you bought me cookies?”
“Yes.”
“My favorite cookies.”
“So it would seem.”
“How did you even—”
“Ekko.”
I clicked my tongue against my teeth, immediately recounting the heated debate I had with Ekko. Petunia’s citrus peel was undoubtedly superior, I’d claimed, though Ekko had yet to make a batch for me. I had no intention of forgetting that promise, should I ever see her again.
“After all you’ve done, you think I would accept an offering from you?
” I said curtly, all too aware of the sweat accumulating on my dagger’s hilt.
“As I was saying…” I trailed off, trying to reach for where our conversation had been interrupted, but I could only think of the all-consuming scent of citrus peel and Petunia’s knowing smile whenever she presented me with a plate.
Damn her to the depths, Vayen had no business being so thoughtful.
Did she really think that would endear her to me?
“As I was saying,” I repeated, still searching for the thread that decadent scent had severed.
“Something about slitting my throat, if I’m not mistaken,” Vayen said with a maddeningly casual tone. “Quite rude, considering I bought you cookies.”
“After you kidnapped me!” I shouted, shaking my head against the appetizing smell and forcing my mind to the matter at hand. “Restrain yourself now.”
“No.”
“What do you mean ‘no’?” I knew I sounded more distraught than a person wielding a weapon ought to, but I couldn’t help myself. “I have a dagger to your throat. A very sharp dagger! It would take hardly any pressure at all to kill you where you stand.”
“Then do it,” Vayen said as though we were discussing something mundane, like the origin of citrus peel or the weather in Grenythwood.
“You think I won’t?”
“I know you could, if you needed to. But I don’t think you will.”
My frustration was building, but as I sought a scathing remark to hurl at her annoyingly beautiful face, I realized she was right.
I had expected Vayen to comply with my demands, as I imagined people threatened with deadly objects most often did.
I hadn’t anticipated she would deny me outright.
Her words weren’t even presented as a challenge—they were merely fact.
And then she had to go and sprinkle salt into the wound by doing something that filled me with a deeply desired nostalgia.