Chapter 37 #3
“Of course not,” she snapped. “Forgotten gods of old, you are exasperating. Why must it always be this with you?”
His height suddenly menacing, the darkness of his being somehow growing even darker, as though he sucked what little light the cavern held into himself. He slapped a hand on the edge of a sarcophagus. “You risk your life every moment you remain here.”
“It is you who risks my life with every unwelcome visit, Zhaire.”
He sucked his teeth, parting his lips to respond, when Audra’s timepiece chimed.
She was running out of time. She hurriedly placed the finger bone in her pocket. “Help me enclose her again.” She heaved against the sarcophagus lid. It didn’t budge, and then she realized that’s because he wasn’t pushing.
“Move aside.” A command.
She did as he bade, crossing her arms.
He slid the lid into place with one hand.
Show-off.
He clapped the dust from his hands, turned to her, and grinned. “Now my question.”
Apprehension filled her belly. What was he going to ask her? And if she decided to lie, would he sense it? Was dishonesty an emotion? “Go on.”
“Why haven’t you been to the dream temple?”
Audra sighed with relief. She could answer that without lying. “I know a girl who makes a damned potent sleep tonic.” She shrugged, checking her nails. “One sip of that, I sleep, but I don’t dream.”
A sharp inhale. “You would live a life without dreams?”
She considered telling him that his one question had been used; she’d already met the terms of his bargain, but when she glanced up beneath her lashes, he looked so earnest. Like he truly couldn’t imagine a being wanting to sleep without dreaming.
“If it meant not seeing you in them, yes.”
His lips twitched upward. “Was it truly so bad?”
She nodded.
“I don’t choose to go there either, you know.”
“You don’t?” How did this magic work that connected them? Did he know?
“Don’t you think I would rather dream of more pleasant things than a cold, dark temple?”
She raised a thumbnail, nibbled on it. She needed to leave. Why was she still talking to him? Fuck it, she was intrigued. “What would a demon rather dream about?” She placed a finger on her chin, pretending to think hard. “Let me guess, tricking a beautiful woman out of her soul?”
He chuckled, his brow quirking upward. “I am not the necromancer; what use would I have with a soul?” Then, his expression shifted, and he glanced away from her. His voice darkened. “Truthfully, I would rather dream of a world where our children know what the sun feels like.”
Audra’s smile faltered. Is that what it was like in the Veiled Realm? How could anything survive without sun?
Zhaire flicked his gaze back toward hers, the darkness from a moment ago washed away as though it had never been. His tone, teasing once more. “Instead, now I find myself alone in that place. Without you there for company, it’s mind-numbingly dull.”
“I’m sure they have sleeping tonics in the Veiled Realm, no need for boredom.”
“I would rather die than live life devoid of dreams.”
“Are all your kind this dramatic?” She crossed her arms. “I prefer no dreams to being surrounded by all those spirits.”
Zhaire cocked his head, a panther assessing a scene he’s not quite sure of. “What spirits? I see only you.”
Audra snorted. “Well, maybe that’s why you don’t mind it as much, then—the temple is filled with them.” She shivered at the memory. “They’re terrifying.”
He took a step toward her. It looked as though he’d sensed her unease at the thought of the ghosts. As though he might comfort her.
“A necromancer afraid of spirits. I wish my brother were here so I could tell him all about the necromancer afraid of the dead.” Amusement coated his words, but also something there underneath … an undercurrent of pain.
Something had happened to his brother. That undercurrent was grief.
Without thinking, she took a step toward Zhaire, searching his eyes, but they were shuttered.
He refused to show his pain to her, but she’d heard it—she knew she had.
She wanted to ask him about it but didn’t know how.
But then again … it wasn’t her place to question him about his grief, to try to know him, understand him.
He wanted her to choose to go with him to the underworld, not to try to comfort him for a loss she knew nothing about.
And was better off not knowing. She had nothing to give him.
Her timepiece chimed again, and they both glanced at it. She took a step back, raised her wrist. Shit. She had five minutes to make it three levels up.
“There she goes, scurrying back to her masters.”
She ignored his jab and turned toward the catacomb’s door. Keeping an unhurried pace, out of stubborn pride, though her heart did race at the prospect of being late for the lecture.
Zhaire’s Veilway made no sound, and yet, though her back was turned, she knew the moment he stepped through it.
Without him down here with her, the catacomb felt colder, the shadows deeper.
Though she’d been fine exploring on her own before he’d arrived, it was as though his absence had altered the place.