Chapter Five #2
My cheeks warm, but I note the challenge in Rook’s stare as I step forward and grasp his hand, my grip firm. I study the edges of his frame, searching for any sign of the shadows that seem to leak out of a host’s skin whenever a Sylk chooses to inhabit their body.
“He’s not possessed,” I say slowly.
“I could be,” Rook purrs, “if you fancy that sort of thing.”
I let go of his hand, an involuntary smile tugging at my lips, and move toward Diana.
“Sorry about the…” I jerk my chin at her head, where a bruise peeks out from beneath her curly blond hair.
“I attacked you,” she says with a shrug, her voice low and smoky. She hops down off the barrel, extending her hand to me. “The compulsion broke the moment Selene died,” she adds as we grasp hands. “I think Gabriel just likes the idea of seeing Rook locked up.”
I throw a look at Gabriel over my shoulder, and I think I see the hint of a grin playing at the edges of his hard mouth.
“One can never be too careful,” he says.
I quirk a brow at him. “They’re free to go,” I say. But as Gabriel unlocks the cell and Rook waltzes through the open door, I point my finger at his chest. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you both.”
Rook captures my hand, pressing a quick kiss to my knuckles. “Promise?”
Diana shoves him forward, breaking his hold, and I wipe my hand on the front of my shirt.
But the moment Rook crosses in front of Titus’s cell, his playful demeanor turns sullen, his steps stuttering.
Still, Titus doesn’t open his eyes—doesn’t acknowledge their presence.
Rook opens his mouth as if to say something, his mouth working, but Diana places a hand on his shoulder, guiding him up the steps.
I meet Henry’s gaze, his expression wary as he watches them go. I cut my eyes at the steps, where Diana’s boots have just disappeared, and he gives a quick nod before stalking after them.
For the first time since that night at Castle Grim, I’m alone with Titus, Will, and Gabriel.
The latter folds his arms over his broad chest, brows raised just slightly in a knowing expression that reminds me, for the briefest moment, of one of my brothers.
And suddenly, I feel unsure of myself—second-guessing why I made Henry bring me here in the first place.
I shuffle forward, as if to follow Henry, and Gabriel’s brows lift even higher as I start past him up the companionway.
“Aster, wait.” Will’s small voice gives me pause, my boot hovering over the first tread.
I turn to find him standing, his knuckles white as he grips the iron bars of his cell.
My heart races as I meet his stare, the familiar green flecked with gold sparks of light. A faint flush of pink tinges his cheeks, as if the Manan from the blood he consumed had invigorated him in a way Henry’s cooking could never have done.
“How sweet of you to check on the monster that almost tore your head from your neck.” I glance over my shoulder to see Titus peeking at me through one narrowed eye, his lips curved in a mischievous grin.
He lets out a low whistle as he gets to his feet.
“He’ll do it again, you know—now that he’s had a taste. ”
I turn to face Will once more, but he’s no longer looking at me.
Will glares at Titus, his lip curled in a snarl.
Titus smirks. “Let me guess,” he says as he dusts off his black cloak. “You’ve come to tell him you forgive him. Come on, love,” he whispers, leaning against the bars. “You’re better than that.”
I grit my teeth. “It was an accident,” I say, attempting to keep my voice level, but it cracks on the last word. I clear my throat, and Will’s gaze snaps to mine once more, his eyes softening. “I know you didn’t want to hurt me,” I add gently.
Titus snorts. “Of course he did,” he drawls. “Look at him! He’s practically drooling.”
I whirl to face Titus head-on, my face hot. “It’s not his fault!” I hiss. “He would never have attacked me if it weren’t for the curse.”
I don’t know why I even bother to argue with him. He’s compelled, I remind myself. He’s just trying to get in my head, to make me doubt myself, to make me doubt Will.
“If you’re certain…” Titus says smoothly, resting his forehead on the iron bars.
“I am.”
He blinks up at me through gossamer eyelashes. “Really?”
I clench my fists. “Really.”
He flashes a roguish grin, his eyes sparkling. “If that’s so, why keep him chained up?” His grin turns vicious. “Why not let the monster out of his cage?”
“He’s the one who insists on staying down here,” I say, frustrated tears welling in my throat. “And he’s not a monster.”
“He’s not denying it.” Titus cocks his head. “Why are you?”
“He’s sick,” I shoot back. “You both are.”
“And you’re going to save us, is that it?” Titus rolls his eyes. “Even if you manage to obtain the cure, you’ll never change who we are—killers, the both of us. It’s about time you accept that.”
My fists tighten, my nails digging into my palms. “No matter how many times you say it, it doesn’t make it true.”
Something wicked dances in his eyes. “And what will make it true? Will it be when dear, sweet William rips Margaret’s throat out?
Or when he tears Lewis’s head from his shoulders?
” He runs his tongue over his teeth, curling his fingers around the iron bars—close enough to reach for me if I were to take a single step in his direction.
He hisses, his cool facade slipping, the mask of the indifferent prince giving way to the impassioned pirate. “What’s it going to take?”
I open my mouth to argue, but—
“He’s right,” Will says quietly.
I turn to face him as the first tear falls. “No, he’s an idiot.”
Will’s face crumples. “You shouldn’t have to forgive me,” he whispers, his voice raw. “All I’ve ever done is cause you pain.” He grinds his jaw, eyes shut tight. “I don’t want to hurt you again.”
I wipe the tears from my face, furious at Titus for getting a rise out of me—furious at myself for letting him. “You would have stopped,” I say, taking a step toward Will. “And I do forgive you.”
Titus barks a laugh, and my heart skips a beat.
“Ah, there it is.” Titus’s voice drops to a low, gravelly whisper. “It all makes sense now.”
I turn to face him again, advancing, closer than I was before. “What?”
Titus’s gaze flits across my cheek, his breath shallow.
“You forgive him because you want someone to forgive you.” He smiles, slow and cruel, like he’s just discovered a secret.
“Curse or not, you’re a killer, too, Aster—through and through.
And you’re afraid that when all of this is over, everyone you love will finally see you for who you truly are: a monster, just like us. ”
I think of the voice, commanding me to spill blood. I know you secretly crave the thrill of battle, Titus had said. You love to watch as your enemies bleed at your feet.
“He knows it, too,” Titus says, cutting a glance over my shoulder. “Isn’t that right, William?”
I stumble backward, but when I turn to face Will, his gaze glows with gilded light, fixed on my cheek. I lift my hand, as if to touch my face, when I see the four half-moon punctures where my nails broke flesh and the blood smeared across my palm.
Will bites his bottom lip. He pushes off from the bars, runs his hand over his jaw, his eyes flaring with scarlet light.
“Just go,” he grinds out, his voice rough. “Gabriel, please. Get her out of here.”
Gabriel takes a step toward me, but I pierce him with a look that stops him in his tracks.
Will sniffs, covering his face with his hands. “Your blood…” he cries. “You can’t trust me, Aster. I can’t go with you to the Burning Lands. I can’t risk—”
“You’re the only one who knows how to slip past the barricades and into the Burning Lands without getting caught,” I say, cutting him off a bit sharper than I intend. “We can’t do this without you.”
It’s strange to think almost an entire month has passed since he proposed to me on the boat—since he promised to fight for us, for our future, and insisted I wait to give him an answer until after we’ve found a cure.
I know he only says all this because he’s afraid of what he might do under the influence of his curse.
But I’m tired of being pushed away—tired of watching Will suffer under the weight of all the burdens he insists on carrying alone.
“You’re coming with us,” I say. “For Annie.”
“Aster—” he starts, but I unsheathe my dagger, and the sudden movement seems to silence him.
“Don’t worry about me,” I tell him, twirling the dagger even as tears stream down my face. “If you try something like that again, I’ll put you down myself.”
I start back up the steps, my head light, heart pounding, but I think I hear Will chuckle, the sound low and pitiful and heartbreaking—think I hear him say, “I’m counting on it.”