Chapter 34 #3
I throw the vial at him, and he just manages to catch it before it hits his face.
“Take it,” I say.
“Poison?”
I give him my best smile. “No. When I kill you, it will be with my blade.”
“I would expect nothing less, Aris,” he says, before uncorking the bottle with his teeth, then downing it.
I take a shaking breath. I still haven’t gotten used to it. Matching that ruinous voice with an equally ruinous face.
As beautiful and deadly as a blade. I feel like a fool watching it, like being mesmerized by the shine of a sword right before it stabs me through the heart.
“What?” he demands, eyes narrowing at my focus on him.
I swallow. “You look disgusting,” I say, hoping saying the words might make them true.
“Lovely words, Aris,” he drawls. He looks me up and down with a curl of distaste on his lips. “But that’s not what you were saying yesterday.”
My cheeks burn. He does remember, then. “Forget the vial,” I grumble. “Maybe I’ll just let you die.”
At that, he chuckles. I’m momentarily stunned by the sound, by the way his lips curve. I must be losing my mind. It must be a side effect of the poison that was in my body for just a few seconds.
I turn on my heel and leave, before he can see the blush spreading across my face.
In my room, I stare at myself in the mirror. Now that I’m clean, I can see more than I did before. I look … different. Still too thin. Cheekbones just a little too sharp. But there’s a hardness to my eyes. A fierce determination.
There are cuts down my cheeks. I wash them, then turn my attention to my hair. After my bath, I put it in my single braid, that I now unravel. There’s a brush. I take my time combing through it, and blink, a memory taking over my reflection.
My mom, brushing my hair.
“Why, Aris, are there so many tangles?” Her voice is playful, but I can see the worry in her eyes. I’m not supposed to leave the house. Playing outside, with my markings, is a risk.
“It was just for a moment,” I say. “We—we just played with the neighbor boy.”
My mom sighs. “You are not like other children.”
My lip trembles. “But I am. Only these make me different. And they—they don’t mean anything.”
My mother looks at me, and in her eyes, for the first time, I see fear. “Aris,” she says, and the way she says my name sounds like home. “They mean far more than I hope you’ll ever know.”
My hair snags, pulling me from the memory. Quickly, I braid my hair into a crown, the way my mother used to before bed. I haven’t done it in years. I’m surprised my fingers remember the movements, but they do. They do.
An attendant must have walked in without me noticing, because there’s a dress waiting on the bed. It has long sleeves and is long enough to touch the floor. I frown, wondering why I would need a dress to sleep in, before I touch the fabric.
It’s thin, and soft as a blanket.
It melts against my skin like a lullaby. In the drawers, I find a scarf, which I wrap around my neck, just in case another attendant decides to walk in without knocking. I crawl into the cloud of a bed, through the silky curtains. I lay in the center and tuck my sword in next to me.
I fall asleep wrapped around it, trying not to think of the poisoned demon in the barn.
I fail.
Late into the night, I’m still tossing and turning, thinking about the way he collapsed from the poison. The way he sucked it from my skin.
We hate each other. This is an arrangement.
So why am I crawling out of bed and opening the door? Why am I intent on checking to see if the medicine is working?
In the darkness, the castle is truly like a beast. I can almost hear it breathing. Whispering.
I run a hand along one of the halls as I move down it, and it’s almost like the silver in the stone is moving with me.
Through nothing short of a miracle, I find the kitchens. Mercifully, they’re empty. I put as much food as I can in a large napkin, then wander until I find the center staircase. It’s only then that I realize I’ve forgotten shoes.
I curse and turn back toward my room, before something glimmering catches my gaze. There’s a pair of silk slippers by the front door. They must belong to an attendant.
They’re beautiful, with ribbons as ties, and they somehow fit perfectly. I push on the door, expecting to find friction, or that it’s locked, but it creaks open, letting in a shard of moonlight.
We’re safe on this estate, according to Vander. Still, I grip my sword in my hand as I creep to the barn.
Raker isn’t sleeping either. He looks up the moment I enter. Now both of his hands are tied in manacles, his arms chained above him on either side. I wonder what he did to earn that second shackle.
His sword is still on his back, but he can’t reach it. I wonder if he can still call upon it, locked up like this.
His eyes sear into mine as I step forward. They slip down my body with little interest, even though I do find my new outfit interesting.
“It’s soft,” I tell him about the fabric, knowing he doesn’t care at all. I smooth my hand down my leg, to convey my meaning.
“I’m glad you’re nice and comfortable,” he says, voice grating.
Right. I’m in a castle, and he’s here … in a stable. My nose crinkles. A stable that smells horrible.
He sighs. “Why are you here, Aris?”
“I—I wanted to make sure—”
“I wasn’t dying a brutal death? How thoughtful of you. I am, as you can see, perfectly alive.”
“Right.” I nod. “I—I brought you this.”
I’m about to toss the food at him when I remember the restraints. There’s a full cup of water a few feet away from him, clearly left as a taunt.
This demon deserves to starve, to thirst, but—that poison should also be mine. Even though he did it for his own selfish reasons, he took pain from me.
Slowly, I bend down to get the cup of water. He watches me with narrowed eyes, eyes of precision, someone who is used to sketching and enacting battle plans. Used to predicting all his enemy’s movements.
Right now, I’m moving toward him with the cup in my hand.
He’s so tall, even sitting down. I sink to the ground and—this isn’t going to work. He watches as I slowly lift onto my knees to get anywhere close to his height. He just stares at me, his gray eyes even more piercing this close.
Our faces are almost level. I lift the cup.
“What are you doing?” he demands through his teeth, eyes still narrowed, as if trying to ascertain my ulterior motives.
“I’m helping you, you cranky bastard.”
He glares at me. But when I slowly bring the cup to his lips, he drinks.
I watch his throat work with far too much interest. Everything about him is enormous. Muscled, but lean. I wonder—I wonder what—
I realize the water is gone and I’ve been ogling his body when he says, voice echoing into the empty cup, “See something you like?” I drop the cup. It thuds against the dirt.
His voice is cutting, full of brutal mirth. My cheeks burn.
“I could never like anything about you,” I say.
He tilts his head. “And here I was, thinking we were becoming friends.”
Friends. At that, I have to laugh. I want to turn and leave him here, the way I did before, but his face is still too flushed. “You’re feverish,” I say, leaning closer, feeling his heat.
“Poison will do that to you,” he says.
I sigh. Carefully, I reach my hand out, until the back of it touches his forehead. “So foolish of you, to save my life.”
“I’m regretting it more and more every second.”
His fever has gone down; the medicine is working. I feel a flush of relief. Still … he’s warmer than he should be. It must be uncomfortable, especially in the heat of the stables.
“I’ll be right back,” I say, rising and turning on my heel. I saw ice in the kitchens. I return with it minutes later.
“This will help,” I say, avoiding looking at him. I hold the ice to his forehead, until my own hand goes numb. Until it’s dripping down his heated skin.
“Interesting,” he finally says.
“What is?”
He lifts a shoulder. “Nothing. You’ve imagined a thousand ways to kill me. I would think you’d be happy to let me rot.”
I frown. “How—”
“You talk in your sleep,” he says. “When you’re not screaming. Or snoring.”
My cheeks heat. I wonder what else I’ve said.
I try to find all the nonexistent composure I have and say, as casually as possible, “You can die after the Questral is over.”
“Right,” he says. “Tell me. What do you want, Aris?”
“What?” I say on a breath, far too aware of his proximity and the heat of his body. At how close we are. At how I’m in front of him, on my knees.
“Why do you want to kill the gods? What do you want? What are you hoping to get from your revenge?” He studies me. “Why do you want it in the first place?”
Oh.
His words are a bucket of ice over my simmering thoughts. I look away. “Don’t pretend to care, Raker. You’ll lose some of your villainous sheen.”
At that, I swear I see him smile from the corner of my eye. But when I turn back again, he’s all the same broodiness I’ve come to know well.
His voice is flat. “I don’t care. If I survive this, though, our fates are tied until we reach the end of this journey. I want to know that your motivations are clear. That you will do anything needed to reach the end.”
“Have I not proven that?” I ask, my voice sharp, remembering everything we’ve had to do just to make it here.
His head tilts, considering. “The ends of journeys are always the hardest.”
I lean forward so he can hear my every syllable as I say, “I will do anything to reach my revenge. Anything.” I hope he can see the intensity in my eyes. I hope he can hear the unspoken words. I’ll do anything—even kill you.
The ice in my palm has practically melted against his heat. The drops are now snaking down his neck, disappearing beneath his armor, and I watch—I watch with far too much interest. I watch, lips parting, suddenly overcome with thirst.
When I look back up at him, I see he’s watching me too.
His eyes are burning, like he can sense my longing.
Like he knows very well that I’m lying to both of us when I deny that I see something I like.
Slowly, his own gaze drops down to my lips, then to my neck, then to my chest. It snags there, lingering.
I follow his eyes and gasp, leaning back, dropping what’s left of the ice. The material of this dress is thin. The ice—it’s cold.
His eyes snap back up to mine. Nothing short of anger twists Raker’s face as he says, “Don’t visit me again, Aris.”