Chapter 7 Nox
Nox
Ismelled her the second she stepped into the study. Those pomegranates she ate every morning clung to her fingertips, tart and sweet. It mixed with the scent of salt from a sea breeze, still embedded in her hair from her life on the beaches of Mysthelm.
Fear flashed in those bright blue-green eyes when I grabbed her arm.
The smell of it was heightened with my Shifter instincts, bitter and sharp.
I didn’t think I’d ever seen her afraid.
Angry and defiant, yes. Annoying and perceptive, constantly.
But she was so quick to hide her fear. Behind those black-rimmed glasses of hers, her eyes were much more vulnerable, so easy to read.
I dug my fingers into her wrist. “Having fun playing the spy, I see,” I growled. “I shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve already proven how good you are at it.”
Her fear swiftly turned to indignation. She yanked out of my hold, but the hallway was so tight, she didn’t have anywhere to go. Her warm breath fell across my outstretched arm as she scoffed.
“You’re such a hypocrite, you know that?” she seethed.
That caught me off guard. I raised an eyebrow, but she surged ahead before I could say anything.
“You punish me for betraying Clarissa when I only did it to keep her alive, and yet you brag about what you did to that innocent man.” She brandished an arm toward the workshop, her fingers so close, they brushed the side of my ribs. The contact sent a jolt through me.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I snarled.
“You act like you’re better than me while spending your nights killing people for Scar—whatever his name is.
The ends always justify the means with people like you.
‘Doing what you have to do,’” she mimicked Silas’s words from a moment ago.
Her full chest heaved from her outburst, the space between her eyes creasing in mistrust. “What did that man even do to you? The Lightbender? Is that what you do while you keep me locked in that ridiculous—”
“If you would hold your tongue for five seconds, maybe you’d see you don’t know everything,” I growled, leaning toward her. She pressed back into the sidewall and glared up at me with contempt as I caged her in.
“I think I know enough,” she spat.
“Do you, darling?” My eyes strayed to the pulse pounding erratically at the base of her neck, giving away her fright. I moved closer and relished the way her pupils dilated. “Enlighten me.”
She swallowed, and I traced the path down the column of her throat. “I know you have some sort of secret operation going on. I know a lot more people live here than just you. Maybe even children. Are you hurting them too?”
Her words pierced my chest, sending enough shock through me that I took a step away from her to the side. That she could even think that—
Her eyes narrowed. She knew she’d hit a nerve. She straightened her shoulders, sending those long red waves tumbling down her chest and onto her nightgown.
Something hot and acidic flared inside me. I’d done what she asked. I’d given her free rein of my house, and here she was, sneaking around in the dead of night the first chance she got. Spying on my people. Accusing me of things she knew nothing about.
She was observant; that much was obvious. To be able to pick up on what little she heard so quickly was impressive. But she was brash. Presumptuous. Mouthy. With the wrong people, that could get her killed.
“You want the truth?” I snapped. “Fine. I’ll show you the truth.”
I closed my fingers around her wrist and hauled her out of the dark hallway into Tessa and Kieran’s study. Devora tried to pull away, but I kept my tight grip on her as we exited onto the first floor.
“Where are you taking me?” she grumbled. I ignored her. We reached the entrance hall, where Everett had started hanging art projects of the refugees to brighten the corridors.
I dragged her to my side and pointed at a childlike drawing of a family—two parents and three children standing beneath a red sun.
“This is Morpheus. He’s a five-year-old boy who was taken from his parents by Scarven, the name you so callously threw out, and kept in a cell for six months.
We still haven’t found his family, but he’s been living here ever since we rescued him. ”
Without giving her time to reply, I jerked her to another piece hanging on the wall. “This is a flower made by a fourteen-year-old named Juliette. She glued together pieces of her burnt clothing from when Scarven tortured her with fire. She’s been here for two years.”
I pivoted to the other side, pulling Devora with me. She stopped resisting, her lips parted and eyes wide. I motioned to three long chains made up of tiny pieces of paper twisted together. Each strand started at the ceiling and worked their way to the floor.
Devora reached out a hand to touch one of the strands. “These have names on them.”
“One hundred eighty-two. One for every person we’ve rescued from Scarven in the last five years. Every person who found refuge in this place.”
She looked over at me, her eyes softening for the first time since I met her.
That only made me angrier.
“He is the monster, Devora. Not me. No matter what you think you understand, I don’t hurt these people,” I said, my voice low as my nostrils flared.
“I, unlike some, find ways to save those I care about. I do what I can to protect them. So the next time you want to accuse me of something, Shadow Wielder, I suggest you get your facts straight.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, her features mingled with shame and a bit of defensiveness. “Maybe if someone had told me—”
“I don’t owe you anything.”
Her jaw shifted. “What if I wanted to help? In exchange for finding out about my past?”
I shook my head and chuckled darkly. “Of course, it’s about what you need.” That crease at her brow deepened, and I shrugged off the momentary guilt the look brought. “You’ve seen enough. We’re going back to your room.”
Her mouth fell open. “You’re unbelievable.”
I smirked. “You’re not the first to say that, darling.”
“You can’t just order me back to my room like I’m some child. I’ve done nothing wrong. I have every right to—”
“Alright, we’ll do this the hard way.” I caught her around the waist, ignoring her thrashing fists, and hauled her over my shoulder before she could wriggle free.
She pounded her fists against my back, her voice sharp and furious. “Nox! What are you doing? Let me go!”
“So you can spy on me some more?” I started up the stairs, my grip tightening and molding to her curves. “Not a chance.”
“You aren’t seriously going to carry me up all those steps,” she shot back.
“Watch me.”
She struggled and kicked for another minute as I reached the next floor. I grasped the backs of her legs tighter, my fingers digging into her skin, and she inhaled sharply before letting out an annoyed huff.
She went silent until we were about halfway up to her tower, when she asked, “What was Scarven doing to them?” Her voice was small, timid. “To the children.”
My shoulders tensed. “Whatever you’re imagining…it’s worse.” Images of needles and blood, fire and darkness, chains and stone walls flashed through my mind.
When we reached her room, I flung open the door and dropped her onto her bed.
The edge of her nightgown rode up her thighs, and I bit down on the inside of my cheek as I dragged my eyes up to meet her stare.
Her cheeks were pink from all the blood rushing to her head, her hair wild and windswept around her shoulders.
She glared at me. “I still hate you, you know.”
“Good.” I strode back to the door, then turned to peer at her once more. “If I ever catch you spying on us again, I’ll have the wards back up before you can say ‘traitor.’”
She let out a heavy breath. “Fates, how many times do I have to apologize? Will you ever forgive me?”
My hand gripped the edge of the door. Instead of snapping back, I took a deep breath. “You betrayed my empress, Devora. My friend. Shifters aren’t forgiving creatures. Especially when you hurt one of our own.”
I faced her again. “I know nothing about you except that you’re an orphan chasing answers. And I don’t fault you for that. But you’ve proven you’ll do anything to get what you want. You’ll turn your back on anyone. Call it protection, call it the lesser evil, but betrayal is still betrayal.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but I kept going.
“You say you want to help, and I believe you. But I can’t trust you.
Not yet. I can’t trust that you won’t betray us if someone comes along to offer you a better deal.
I can’t trust that you’ll make the decision to sacrifice your own desires for the greater good. ”
She looked down at those words, her hand curling into a ball at her side. I’d hit a mark, but it didn’t feel as good as I thought it would.
I pointed down, seeing through floors and hallways to the drawings that still hung in my mind. “My people risk everything to fight Scarven. To save the broken children you just saw. No matter how sorry you are, I won’t gamble their lives on your loyalty.”
My anger from earlier shifted into something less biting, but still deep.
I didn’t want to hate her. I didn’t want to keep her locked up.
But loyalty was the most important thing in what I did.
The Ashen Order, the Keep, my family…they were the only things that mattered.
And until someone earned that loyalty, they couldn’t be my ally. They couldn’t be my anything.
I supposed she’d been right all along. She was my prisoner. Because I would never give her the power to hurt what was mine.
“So hate me all you want, darling,” I said, fingers digging into the doorframe. “It won’t change a thing.”