Chapter 3 Devora
Devora
“Well, at least you bothered to knock this time,” I said, barely glancing up at the tall frame in the doorway.
I felt those navy-blue eyes on me, saw those broad shoulders tightening as he bristled. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him run a hand clad in glittering rings through his wavy, dirty-blond hair, then he crossed his arms over his chest to glare at me.
I thought it got on his nerves how little I seemed to acknowledge him, which was difficult, considering he took up so much space. I felt him in every inch of this tower; his presence was relentless, all-consuming, like a wave of heat beating at my skin.
But I ignored it.
Nox Duma was the kind of man used to commanding a room simply by entering it. He was all magnetic swagger and charm, with a hint of danger lying beneath the surface that intrigued you just enough to try and crack it.
I’d seen that side of him, once. Before he decided to hate me. Before he’d taken me to serve my punishment.
Before I’d ruined everything.
The first time I saw Nox was three months ago back in Mysthelm, sitting next to Empress Clarissa at a campfire.
The flames blazed in his dark eyes, accentuating that sinful smirk and catching the rings littering his fingers.
He would toss a well-timed joke around the campfire when he knew the attention was on him.
He had given his laughter so freely back then.
Suffice it to say, I didn’t get that version of Nox. I didn’t get the man who was all wit and charisma and handsome smirks.
I got the dragon with hatred in his eyes. The one whose claws itched to sink into me, whose teeth begged to draw blood.
I found my gaze straying to him, to the cloak draped across his shoulders, the tight pants tucked into sturdy black boots. I flicked my eyes back down to my book. “Going somewhere?”
He ignored my question. “It happened again.”
I leaned back in the chair and propped my legs on the windowsill. “I hear it happens to a lot of men. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
A small growl rumbled from his chest, and I stifled a smirk. Devora - 1, Dragon - 0.
“Your shadows,” he said, the words slow and deliberate. “The maids saw them again.”
My grin slipped. I brought my legs back to the floor. “Again? I…I didn’t feel anything.”
“You were probably sleeping.” He ran a finger along his bottom lip. “Magic can be triggered by strong emotions, like in dreams.”
Or nightmares. I looked away from him and stared out the window, onto the rocky waves below. In the setting sun, the white foam could almost be mistaken for smoke. I saw it rising up a tall stake, eating away at flesh and fur—
“I’m not doing it on purpose,” I said abruptly, shaking away the vision.
I knew what he suspected. That I was practicing my magic, preparing for some sort of escape or attack, maybe to finish the job I’d started with Empress Clarissa.
About a month ago, the maids reported thick swells of shadows creeping beneath my door at night.
Nox had instantly barged in to interrogate me, but it was useless. I couldn’t control it.
My shadows hadn’t shown themselves in months.
Not consciously, anyway. I hadn’t felt them since Nox and I crossed the border into the Veridian Empire.
Magic didn’t exist outside these borders, which was why I’d never known what I was while growing up in the powerless land of Mysthelm.
I didn’t find out until I was exposed to Veridian magic for the first time.
I had no idea how the shadows kept coming back.
Sometimes, I would close my eyes and try to summon that same fleeting feeling, when the unfamiliar magic slammed into me and lit every inch of my body with this swell of intense energy.
I remembered the shadows bursting from a hidden well in my chest, rolling down my legs in waves, and gathering in dark pools at my feet.
I remembered how right it felt. Even while being so foreign, so terrifying, it still felt like me.
A part of myself that had been unlocked after twenty-three years of dormancy.
It was one step closer to discovering who I was. Where I came from. What my family had been.
But just as quickly as it came, the sensation faded. And I had never been able to get it back, no matter how hard I concentrated.
In my sleep, however…my shadows reappeared. When the shame clawed its way to the surface, when the sorrow and bone-deep loneliness had nowhere to go, no snarky comeback to hide behind…that was when they showed themselves.
Little brats. Couldn’t just come when called.
I cleared my throat. “Tell the maids I’m sorry if it scared them. I don’t exactly know what I’m doing. If someone could help me—”
“We’ve had this conversation, Devora,” he cut in.
“No, you’ve had this conversation. I don’t get a say, remember? I get to stand here while you treat me like your prisoner.”
He prowled closer, raising an eyebrow. “Devora, darling, if you think this”—he brandished an arm—“is a prison, then you really haven’t got a clue.” His tone was biting, the cutting edge of a sword balanced against my throat.
“Then what is it, hmm?” I stood and threw my hands in the air. “What am I?”
Who am I?
He held my gaze, eyes flashing dangerously. But he didn’t respond.
My shoulders fell a fraction. “I just…I just want to learn about where I came from. You promised you’d help me find my family, Nox.” His jaw clenched when I said his name. “I’ve stayed locked up in your pretty little tower for months. When will it be enough for you?”
“This isn’t about me,” he snapped. “This is about you and what you did to Clarissa. Actions like that have consequences. You’re lucky we didn’t leave you in Mysthelm to rot in those cells like your master.”
“She is not my master,” I said, voice rising. “I’m nothing like Lady Reaux. I did what I could to protect Clarissa from her. I tried to keep her safe when everyone else wanted her dead. She’s my friend too, Nox, and—”
“Friend?” He scoffed. “You can’t be serious. You lied to her. Made her trust you. Then you betrayed her, and burned the proof for the world to see. Do you think you can still call her your friend?”
That familiar wave of shame rose once more, coating my stomach and chest until nothing else could get through. He was right. I knew exactly what I’d done when I drove the stake through the fox’s body.
“You don’t understand.” My voice cracked, but I held his gaze. “I didn’t have a choice.”
His navy eyes melted into the wrathful silver of his dragon. “I’ve heard that line too many times. It always comes from the guilty.”
“Of course I feel guilty!” I snapped. “You think I wanted to spy on Clarissa? To get her accused of treason and almost hanged? Do you think I wanted to kill that fox? That was all Lady Reaux. She wanted your empress out of Mysthelm. She wanted to send a message. Lady Reaux dangled the only thing I ever wanted, and I was desperate enough to be her pawn. How can you possibly understand what that’s like? ”
His answering silence was louder than a shout. My chest heaved from my sudden outburst, and memories of the choices I made came flooding back.
When Clarissa came all the way to Mysthelm four months ago to marry the king in hopes of a peaceful alliance after centuries of animosity, she had no idea the adversaries that awaited her there. People of Mysthelm hated her kind—Veridians. Those with foreign, frightening magic.
My kind, too, I supposed.
The people didn’t want her to be our queen. They didn’t want to ally with the “enemy.” That was where I came in.
I worked as a maid for Lady Reaux, the matriarch of one of the noble houses.
I was the perfect, expendable pawn. The orphan with the shady past, the one who spent her formative years on the floors of taverns and in the streets of seedy towns.
The nameless girl who would do anything to figure out where she came from.
The moldable, impressionable, ambitious street rat.
Lady Reaux offered me what I wanted most in this world: answers. The truth about my past.
After I’d killed and staked that fox, the symbol for Clarissa’s Shifter half, I hadn’t been able to look at myself in the mirror for weeks. The guilt gnawed at me, eating me from the inside out. Clarissa thought I was her friend. And I wanted to be—just not as much as I wanted to find my family.
In the end, it didn’t matter anyway. Nobody in Mysthelm had answers for me.
Now, only the man before me could help.
“I—I did horrible things,” I said quietly, throat burning. “But I tried to protect her from what could’ve been so much worse. I never laid a hand on her.”
“You’re right.” Nox’s voice was slow, deliberate. “You just knew how to break her without touching her.”
My eyes fluttered shut under the blow of his words. The worst part was, I couldn’t even deny it.
“That’s what I thought.” He stalked closer when I stayed silent. “You think three months is hard? Up here in this pretty little tower with your warm bed”—he took another step—“and clean clothes”—his nostrils flared as his voice lowered into a growl—“and safety?”
He was close enough now that I could see the veins in his neck straining, could see the muscles in his jaw clench under pressure. “You know nothing about prisons, Devora.”
I fought a shiver as I met his stare, refusing to back down. “I know they’re not all made of stone.”
The air crackled with anger and the scent of smoke from roaring flames, along with traces of something sweet and spicy.
Like dying embers on a cold winter’s night.
Slowly, the silver in his eyes faded back into their normal dark blue, and the hint of fangs that had pressed into his bottom lip disappeared.
His lip twitched, and he sighed. “You’re right about one thing. I made you a promise, and I intend to keep it. Trust actually means something to me.” I flinched at the underhanded dig.
“I’ll help you find your family,” he continued, and my eyes widened.
“But right now isn’t a good time. Things in this province are…
tumultuous.” He rubbed a hand along the scruff at his chin.
“I can’t afford to have an outsider screwing things up.
You may not understand right now, but you staying here is for the best.”
His cloak swept across the floor as he moved to the door. I couldn’t stop myself from following him, silently cursing myself for being so needy. So curious. I never could keep my mouth shut, especially when I sensed adventure.
And maybe, just maybe…there could be a way out of this. A way to get what I wanted.
“I’m not a child, you know,” I said quickly.
“I can handle whatever’s happening out there.
I see the horses coming after dark.” I gestured out the window, where the edge of the estate was in view.
“I hear the whispers. New voices every few days, always at night. What’s going on? What’s so dangerous?”
He looked over his shoulder at me, his brow furrowing. “You can hear all of that?”
My lips parted, confused at his confusion. Why wouldn’t I be able to hear them? They were incredibly obnoxious.
“Never mind,” he said before I could respond. “It doesn’t concern you. As much as you seem to hate this tower, it’s one of the only things keeping you safe.”
“Safe is boring.”
“Spoken like a true child.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t give me that. You’re barely ten years older than me.”
He hummed. “Presumptuous.”
“Observant.”
“Whatever you want to call it, you’re still not leaving.”
I let out a huff of frustration. “Just let me leave this Fates-forsaken room. I’ve been good. I haven’t caused any trouble—consciously,” I amended. “If you claim this isn’t a prison, then let me see something besides these four walls. Please.”
He stared at me, one of his ringed fingers tapping against his thigh. I held my breath. I hated how dependent I was on this man. How my freedom lay in his claws.
I was so sick of others holding control over me. First Lady Reaux, now him.
“I’ll have Milo loosen the wards,” he finally said.
“You will?” My eyebrows rose in shock. I didn’t think I’d heard him correctly. “Wait—who’s Milo?” I blurted, suddenly remembering the name from Rebekah’s love note.
“The Alchemist’s apprentice. He can let the wards down enough for you to roam the manor. There will be rules,” he added when a hopeful smile slipped onto my features. “You’re only allowed in public spaces. And you still can’t leave the property.”
“For now.”
An exhale that sounded like a low snarl left him. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”
I pasted on my most innocent smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m perfectly well-behaved. Trust me.”
Whatever antagonistic banter our hatred had morphed into disappeared at those words.
“After what you’ve done?” His features hardened once more, the brief warmth now sharp and icy against my skin. “I will never trust you, Shadow Wielder.”