Chapter Twenty-One
Orrin takes a step in front of me, shielding me, I suppose, but over his shoulder, I keep my gaze locked on my sister.
Her eyes rest on me yet there isn’t even a moment’s recognition, warmth, love, and she moves her attention away brutally fast. She does not know me.
My heart breaks a little more. A lot more.
This can’t be real. This must be a nightmare.
Orrin mouths as he turns back to me. “Come.”
Woodenly, I follow him to the center of the room, then watch him greet the human recruits, including my sister. As hard as it is, I keep my distance.
“We must be leaving, my queen,” he says to Elisavet, cutting smoothly in front of a group eagerly welcoming the five new demons.
“No, it’s still early!” She sounds offended, though after a moment she smiles begrudgingly. “I hate to see you leave so soon.”
“I’ll stop by tomorrow or the next day, if you’re agreeable to that. As much as I hate to go so soon, I have matters to attend to at home.” The lie of regret is smooth on his lips.
“Home, really?” Elisavet pouts in an exaggerated way. “What is home away from family, darling? I shall never understand why any of our kind prefers to live apart. There is so much fun to be had here.” When she says the word “fun,” she shifts her eyes to me.
“I’ll consider it. For now, though, I bid you farewell.” He lifts her hand, and kisses it gently, lovingly. There’s blood on her wrist. “Congratulations on the newest members. I’ll be sure to acquaint myself with them next time.”
Elisavet drops her pouty face. “Thank you. Take good care of your pet.” She stares at me, telling him, “I wouldn’t let beauty like that slip past me, if I were you.”
He nods graciously, takes my arm, and pulls me toward the entrance.
A departing demon trio trails us, reeking of wine.
On our way out, a burly male demon heads in, his eyes frightfully sunken and pinned upon me, his mouth turned in a menacing sneer.
He rushes as he gets closer, nearly slamming into me.
I dart swiftly to the side to avoid him, pressing myself into the wall of the cave, hair sticking to the dampness, just missing his aim.
The demon throws a grin back at me. Orrin’s fists tighten at his sides in fury.
The demons behind us burst into mocking giggles, and I nearly black out from the grief as reality washes over me, but not for my sake. For Aven’s. I swallow her name with a sob.
I can’t leave her, I can’t leave her here, with that monster. With those monsters. I slow, turn to go back. I have to get her. I have to make her change her mind. Somehow…I have to…
“Why can’t you do anything right, you insolent thief?” Orrin’s voice turns cold, and I stare at him in dull surprise before realizing the demons behind us are listening, still laughing at me almost being plowed into. He’s only doing this for their benefit. He snaps, “Keep moving!”
I don’t have to play along. I don’t think I could move without him forcing me. He physically steers me out of the cave, though I feel nothing. I step forward, red slippers soaking in the cool seawater, not that I care.
“Almost…” he whispers in apology.
I turn back in time to watch the three demons disappear into thin air the second they step outside. I’m in too much shock to even ask Orrin about it. I’d forgotten that they could do that.
The full moon sags over the sea, water so still now it’s like glass, reflecting the white orb.
Aven traded in her soul. For what? What did Elisavet promise her?
But beyond the disbelief, the judgment even, there is a dull acceptance, an understanding.
What would I have done to save Aven, if the choice had been offered to me?
I would have given my life for her; of course I would give up my soul.
Silently, Orrin and I climb up the rocky slope in the dark, and I’m so distracted that I slip, catching my palms on a jagged edge, letting out a cry. My hand bleeds crimson as dark as my slippers.
“Are you alright, Corliss?”
“No.” I pull myself up, don’t look at the blood in my stinging palm. “I’m not.”
We make it up over the edge. Mr. Brown stands there in a stream of moonlight, arms folded.
His face is unreadable, but I sense the worry.
As soon as he sees us, he turns to cover the horses’ eyes, who already shift around, jittery.
Orrin helps me into the carriage, already turned away from the sea, set to carry us home.
When we are inside and the door is shut, he yanks down the one slightly opened shade.
In the dark of the carriage, he drags me onto his lap.
I’m too broken to even be surprised. Somehow, he went from someone I feared and abhorred to the one I feel safest with.
And if he wasn’t here, I don’t know what I’d do, having seen what I just saw.
I can’t even cry. I only shake, violently, unstoppable. Shake like a ship going down. His arms wrapped around me like an anchor.
“My goodness,” Mrs. Minthy cries as Orrin carries me into the mansion. I bury my face into his shoulder—to cover my emotions, to take in the warm, herbal smell of him and push aside everything else.
“She’s not feeling well,” he tells her.
With a worried coo, she fusses at me as he passes. I grip him tightly as he carries me up the grand staircase. I want to say I can walk myself, that I can manage. But the words don’t come. If they did, I don’t know that they’d be honest.
“Draw her a bath,” he calls gruffly to the housekeeper.
I close my eyes tighter against his chest as he keeps moving, blocking out the memory of the sights and sounds of Elisavet’s cave.
I’d like to forget I was there. I’d like to imagine Aven is just on holiday.
I tell myself that this isn’t real. Except I listen to the sound of Orrin’s heart beating against my ear.
I wouldn’t undo him. Not this moment. I hate him, I hate him, I said so many times, out loud, to myself.
And I didn’t just say it—I truly felt it.
That, however, has changed. He has. I have. Something has shifted.
The only thing between me and complete and utter despair right now is him.
Up another staircase, down a hall, and finally, Orrin carries me into my room and deposits me on my feet in one fluid motion. But his arms stay on me, so that I don’t fall over. I worry I might faint. He must know it.
“I want to get this dress off me.” I finally open my eyes. “There’s blood on it, isn’t there? I can smell it.”
Nodding, he doesn’t elaborate, only helps me tug off the dress, averting his eyes, though he’s obviously seen me in just a chemise several times. He wraps a blanket around my shoulders. “Are you cold? You’re still trembling.”
Jerking my head in what is not quite a shake, I let out a quivering breath and wrap the blanket tighter around myself. Even if my skin has warmed, the chill of fear has settled in my bones. I blink away the tears. Orrin keeps quiet. He’s waiting for me to speak, when I’m ready.
“I know it sounds crazy,” I start, my voice breaking. “But I thought the plan would work.” I squeeze my hands into the blanket and wince at the wound on my palm. “At least, I hoped it would. But we were too late. And the way Aven looked at me…like she didn’t even know me.”
“Shhh. Bath is here.” His voice is low.
“I know,” I whisper back. I already sensed the pitchers of steaming water changing the air beyond the wall.
He shifts, turning away.
“What are you doing?” I say, following him, panic pitching my voice higher than I mean it to.
“I’m leaving so you can bathe.” He pauses at the door as I meet him there. “Mrs. Minthy will help you, like always.”
“No, please.” I cling to his shirt, as though he’s the only thing standing between me and Elisavet, as if he’s the only thing keeping me from getting hysterical with the reality of this whole thing, and he is. “I don’t want you to leave me.”
“You’re perfectly safe here.” His eyes are like black velvet, voice soothing.
“I feel safe when you are by my side. Please.” I have to look down when I say it.
A gust of night wind from outside blows against us as we stand there, as I stare back up at him with unspoken words. Don’t make me ask again.
He nods. “Of course. I’ll stay.”
We step out of the way as staff fill the bath with pitcher after pitcher of water. They add rose-oil soap that foams up in fluffy white bubbles so full I can no longer see the water. Last to leave, the red-haired maids finish up. Hana sets two large towels onto a low stool near the tub.
“Please tell Mrs. Minthy that we do not need her help with the bath,” Orrin tells her brusquely, then adds, in a softer note, “and thank you, all.” Both cousins curtsey and walk out the door.
The maids cannot approve, of course, of me in here alone with him, nothing except a tub between us, but they don’t get a say about it.
Not only am I at least four years their senior, I’m their guest. And they’d never reprimand him.
Besides, it’s not the first time he’s been alone in here while I was in the bath!
As the fragrant steam rises from the tub, waiting for me, I glance at Orrin, slightly awestruck.
As if I’m seeing him for the first time, separating the hatred I felt for him, the fear.
Taking away the lust, even. Just noticing.
How he stands, how he moves, his messy hair falling against the side of his high cheekbone.
The way the candlelight glows on his dark-honey skin.
The safeness of him. His height, his power, his tattoos, the way he looks at me.
He turns, perusing my bookcases, allowing me modesty while I drop the blanket around my shoulders and maneuver out of my corset and drawers, slip off my chemise.
Then, only when I’ve sunk into the bath—wincing when the water stings the cut on my hand—and covered my nakedness with a mound of bubbles, does he turn.
He stands still, appearing almost unsure.
“Sit by the bath. So we can talk.” I lean back with gratitude, soaking in the hot water, washing the sickening smell of blood from me.
He sets aside the towels, pulls up the small wooden stool, and sits. “Do you want to talk about what you saw tonight?”
My wet waves trail around my shoulders when I shake my head resolutely. “Not now. Tomorrow I will face what I saw, what is ahead of us.”
“Yes.” His eyes reflect me. “We will make a new plan. Maybe one utilizing your skills.”
“The ‘gifts’ thing? Having slightly increased senses isn’t very helpful.” I suds up my hair, blanching at the crusted blood at the back. “Even if it is interesting.”
He shakes his head, reaches out and begins to wash my hair for me. I let him, shutting my eyes, forcing myself not to moan from the pleasurable feel of his fingers against my scalp. He didn’t even push up his sleeves—his cuffs will be soaked, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
“You have more than that. You have power in you, Corliss. Whether that’s from my sharing magic with you, or whether it comes from you alone.”
I open my mouth to dispute that.
“Don’t argue.” He rinses my hair for me. “Look at the shoes.”
“What do you mean?” I gaze up at him, shiver as he drags a sponge along my collarbone, slowly. Deliciously slow.
“The slippers attached themselves to you. They found magic within you. They recognized something. And they’ve become connected to you as well.”
“But how?” I ask, frustrated.
“I don’t know, exactly,” he admits. “Though I’ve been trying to understand.
Besides, look at how you followed me in dreams, not once but twice.
You and I are connected, in some way. The shoes drew us together—I feel they have a sort of will of their own.
Their magic is beyond what I can fathom, I suppose.
They’re a powerful gift in their own right. And I believe yours is as well.”
I frown, and say, with the last bit of stubbornness I can cling to, “I still don’t know if I believe in magic. Not like this. You have magic because you traded for it. You’re a demon, or whatever! Humans don’t have powers like that.”
“You’ve never seen it? Felt it?”
I shrug. “I mean, there are people in The Pins who pretend to have magic. But it’s not real.” Or is it? Even now, I’m not sure how I feel.
Orrin doesn’t reply, but he takes my injured hand in his, concentrates his power on it, and seals the skin back together in one hot second. Fixed.
I meet his stare, trembling again, though not from cold. “I’m ready to get out now.”
He hands me a towel and stands, shifting his gaze to the bathwater. His pulse quickens so abruptly I swear I can hear it speed up.
As he strides toward the door, he says, voice pained, “I’ll just be in the hall if you need me.”
The door shuts, as if he’s hurried to get away from me.
It’s only when I look down at the water that I realize all the bubbles have dissipated.