Chapter 35
Evren appeared at my side like a dark apparition. Casimir’s body tensed, but when he slid his icy gaze toward our intruder, his expression betrayed irritation, rather than fear.
“What the fuck do you want?” Casimir snarled.
Evren’s expression was smug as he slid his emerald eyes to me, ignoring Casimir. “It’s time to pay up, girl. I’m calling in my favor.”
Shock and dismay registered plainly across Casimir’s face. “What favor?”
I felt the blood drain from my cheeks. Shit. I’d hoped Evren would find me in private, not go gallivanting his leverage over me in front of Casimir. I suppose I should’ve expected it, given the bad blood between the two Daemons.
As I turned away, intending to follow Evren, Casimir snatched at my wrist, his grip like iron.
“Casimir.” I tugged against his hold. “I need to go with him. Evren needs me for this part of the bloodbargain.” Then, in a lower voice, added, “He’ll want to show the others that he can glamour me.”
Please, let Casimir believe just one more lie, I thought.
A war of emotions played out over his face as he tore his eyes away from the Bloodweaver’s to meet my gaze.
As far as Casimir knew, I was being dragged off to be tortured by Evren in front of the Order.
He knew the Bloodweaver’s glamour wouldn’t actually harm me, and other than my own humiliation, there was little risk of injury, unless Evren decided he was dissatisfied with my performance.
Yet it was clear from the hard lines in his face that he didn’t want me going anywhere with Evren.
What the hell was he thinking? I thought furiously.
Refusing to go along with the Bloodweaver’s scheme risked revealing our deception outright. But what Casimir didn’t know—what I had intentionally concealed from him—was the last piece of my bargain, the favor that Evren was now calling in.
The guilt I felt for lying to Casimir was overshadowed by a sudden, burning pain in the rune on my arm: a warning that denying Evren his favor would mean severe magical consequences.
“I’ll just be a minute,” I reassured Casimir, once again trying to wriggle out of his hold. “You can trust me.” I wondered if he knew how bitterly the lie tasted falling from my lips.
Several of the dancers cast curious glances our way, goggling at the two men staring one another down, probably assuming I was at the center of some twisted romantic quarrel.
Casimir spoke through clenched teeth. “If you harm her, I will ensure that you never wake to see another sunrise.”
The Bloodweaver’s returning smile was full of poison. “Is that a threat, Darkseer?”
Casimir bore down on him, his face mere inches from Evren’s, making him flinch at the violence in his gaze. “It’s a promise,” he said softly.
Evren snorted. “I’d like to see you try. Now, girl.”
Reluctantly, Casimir let me go. He watched with fear and resentment burning in his gaze as Evren dragged me by the arm from the ballroom and into an alcove.
“You didn’t think I’d forget about your debt, did you?” he asked in that mocking tone.
Seething with fear and fury in equal measure, I remained silent.
Evren shot me a cruel smirk and withdrew a small vial containing a dark, viscous liquid that looked horrifically like blood.
“Make sure the Darkseer drinks this in the next ten minutes. And remember, girl,” he added, his fingers digging into my forearm hard enough to bruise. “There will be consequences if you fail to uphold your end of the deal.”
My fingers curled around the vial, shaking with nerves. “Whatever’s in this—it won’t kill him, right?”
Evren chuckled darkly. “It won’t kill him. As long as you do what you’re told.”
I nodded, fearing I might be sick if I tried to reply.
Evren jerked his head, releasing me. I all but ran back into the ballroom and found Casimir waiting for me, his lips pressed thin in barely contained rage, his eyes storming.
I realized that I was breathing heavily, my hair sticking to the sweat coating my bare back.
Wordlessly, Casimir took my hand and dragged me to the far end of the ballroom, shoving several disgruntled guests out of our way in the process.
His eyes searched my body for signs of damage. “Are you alright?” he asked.
“I’m fine.”
“Did he—?”
I nodded.
“And he—they bought your performance?” His tone was skeptical.
“Yes, I gave a convincing show.” I gazed up at him, my eyes begging him not to believe me. The vial burned against my skin in my dress pocket.
Casimir gave a stiff nod and frowned. “I don’t like this.”
“I don’t like it either.” My stomach was a rat’s nest of guilt and shame. Why did lying to Casimir feel worse than lying to anyone else?
Make sure the Darkseer drinks this in the next ten minutes. I felt the compulsion of the magic stirring under my skin. Make him drink it. So much like Devereaux’s glamour, the pull of Evren’s bargain was so powerful that ignoring it felt almost painful.
My smile wavered as I looked into Casimir’s eyes. “I’ll get us some drinks,” I suggested. “Wait here.”
The magic steered me toward a table towering with bubbling champagne.
I plucked two glasses from the top. With trembling fingers, I unstoppered the vial and emptied the dark contents into a glass, my back to the room to conceal what I was doing.
As it made contact with the alcohol, the blood-red potion vanished.
I sniffed at the glass. There was no scent. Undetectable.
I’d spiked Casimir’s drink.
The urge to hurl the glass across the ballroom was strong, but the bloodbargain overpowered any desire to sabotage his plan. Any attempts to disobey the magic were immediately answered with pain—a thousand needles pricking at my skin.
Make him drink it, the magic ordered. There will be consequences if you fail.
Casimir frowned as I approached, an unsteady smile plastered on my lips. “I don’t really like champagne,” he murmured.
I rolled my eyes. “Just drink it.”
Knock it out of his hand. Scream. Do something!
It was the scene in the Tusk playing out all over again, but this time, Devereux wasn’t forcing me to drink Daemon wine.
No, in this version, I was the villain dosing Casimir with some unknown substance.
And there was no one to stop the glass from reaching his lips.
Fulfilling the favor was all that mattered.
The bloodbargain held me still as I watched Casimir toss back the poisoned drink.
At once, the feeling of compulsion dissipated, and I slumped in relief. I had completed my side of the bargain.
“Are you feeling alright?” I asked, terrified to hear the answer. What had I done?
Casimir shrugged. “Yes, why?”
“No reason.”
Because I poisoned you. Because I’m a liar.
Dread laced through my veins, but… maybe the potion was harmless. Perhaps this was just Evren’s way of tormenting me by allowing me to think I’d poisoned Casimir. I sighed. “I suppose now we can finally talk about why you lied to me.”
His expression turned darkly serious. “I didn’t know you were the Heir, Arden.”
I frowned. “You said I was the last person who should go anywhere near the Bloodthorn Order. Or are you denying that now, too?”
“I…” He hesitated, taking in my mutinous expression. “I admit that I wondered if you could be the Heir, at first. But even so, I never imagined that you’d ever be able to conceal something like that from me. I never thought the Heir would be—” His voice broke off.
Ignorant. Na?ve. Lied to, I thought.
“Completely in the dark?” I offered bitterly.
“Yes,” he said, more softly now. “I believed that the true Heir would have known about the Order, about the Daemons.”
“Why not share your suspicions with me?”
Casimir winced. “I didn’t want to scare you. I figured it was a long shot.”
My face grew hot, my skin prickling with panic. I bit into my cheek to release some of the tension I felt.
He knew, he knew, he knew.
“You have to believe me, Arden.”
I ignored his imploring. “Did you give me the necklace as some sort of test?” I asked, fisting the silver clasp in my fingers. After all, the Book of Erebos’s hint was clear about one thing: the Heir possessed certain serpentine qualities.
“Arden…” He almost laughed. “You can’t think me so diabolical as to make you wear something that would expose you?”
I searched his face with narrowed eyes, and then, all at once, my suspicion vanished and was replaced with shame.
This was Casimir. How many times had he shown that he cared for me?
And how had I repaid him? By lying about my bloodbargain with Evren.
By swapping the Book of Erebos for a counterfeit, right under his nose.
By spiking his drink with an unknown substance.
Bitterly, I wondered if he hadn’t been right.
Maybe I was the worst thing to ever happen to him.
Casimir’s jaw was tense as he gazed down at me. “I wish we had known sooner,” he confessed.
We had failed; there was no other way to spin it.
“Our one consolation is that the Order has no idea who you really are,” he whispered.
“They might find out,” I contested in a small voice. It wouldn’t be difficult to learn about my parentage. “Malcolm’s name must be in the university records—”
His smile faltered. “I know, but aside from destroying every trace of his existence…” His voice trailed off, and he shook his head, dismissing the thought. “They have no reason to suspect you’re anyone but Arden Farrow. Evren bought your… performance tonight, right?”
I nodded, avoiding meeting his eye. “I just don’t understand how my father got involved with any of this in the first place,” I said. “Or how he managed to hide it for all those years.”
Casimir’s dark gaze fell to the silver snake coiled around my throat. “He was a serpent, after all,” he mused. “How did Sinclair discover that you were the Heir?”