42. Silas
Silas
Knead your dough on a waning moon and it will keep three days longer. But it will also ache low in the belly after consumption.
The nymph Matriarch tasted like stale ash and a hundred plus years of taking from poor bastards to keep herself on top. I stepped back from her mouth the moment I could do it without making a statement.
She didn’t notice. She never did.
“We need to talk,” I said. “Privately. And you’re the only one I’d trust with what I’m carrying.”
Her violet eyes sharpened. Good.
I had her attention now instead of her performance.
“Truths and power,” I continued, keeping my voice low enough that it didn’t carry to the trees. “But we’ll need privacy.”
She tilted her head, that slow smile pulling at her mouth. “You always did know how to ask for things, Silas.”
“And you’ve always known how to take care of me.”
The Matriarch laughed, her hand finding my chest. “You’ve been gone a long time.”
“Couldn’t stay away forever.” I let my eyes drop to her mouth just long enough to mean something, then back up. “You know how it is.”
“I do.” Her fingers curled slightly against my shirt. “And the witch?”
“Comes with me. Non negotiable.”
Her brow arched. “Everything is negotiable in my forest.”
“Not her.” I held her gaze and let the stillness in it do the work.
She looked at me for a long moment. Then she turned, walked into the trees, and the army of women closed around us. That was answer enough.
We were led through the wood without ceremony.
The city emerged from the trees gradually, structures built into and around the trunks themselves, platforms and walkways connected by rope and carved wood, every level lit by those same slow-pulsing orange lights.
No torches. No fire. Nothing that might accidentally invite the sun.
The hierarchy was visible in everything.
Who walked in front, who deferred, who kept their eyes forward and who was permitted to look.
Younger nymphs moved with their heads down, their movements clipped and obedient.
Older ones stood at intervals along the path like sentinels, watching us pass with expressions that had been trained into neutrality over decades of practice.
This wasn’t a village. It was a garrison.
Several of the Matriarch’s guards broke from formation as we reached the inner sanctum, moving toward Syneca.
I stopped immediately. “No.”
The Matriarch turned.
I stared right into her soul as I gave away my first sacrifice of this meeting. “The Phoenix stays with me. I give you nothing if we’re separated.”
Through the bond, Syn’s jolt of surprise hit me right in the chest. Underneath it, something that felt dangerously close to her fire moved over me.
The Matriarch’s eyes moved to the witch, slow and thorough, taking in the copper hair, the freckles, the face that had been on every wanted poster for weeks.
If she had figured it out before I mentioned it, if she’d have looked too closely and thought I was keeping it from her, I’d never have a chance to follow through with my plan. The calculation behind her eyes shifted into something that suited me a hell of a lot better than distrust.
I held the nymph's gaze. “She’s bound to me. As long as I have eyes on her, she’ll obey.”
Her eyes slid to Syn and it took every fucking ounce of self-control to keep my feet planted as she said, “Do you know how you’ll die if I suspect a single ember? One spark and what will happen?”
Silence dropped. I turned to Syn, already braced.
Because I knew her.
I knew the snap-back, that smart fucking mouth, the grin she used like a knife. I knew she couldn’t stand letting anyone think they had her cornered. That was her whole damn survival strategy. Make them underestimate her, make them bleed for it later.
I was expecting her to bite.
She didn’t.
She just… straightened.
Shoulders squared. Chin level. Face smoothing out into something so controlled it didn’t even feel like her at first glance.
“I understand,” she said.
Two words.
And it pissed me off more than if she’d screamed. Because I knew that voice too.
Not the fire. Not the storm I could feel rattling through the bond like it was trying to claw its way out of her skin. No. This was the version of her that had survived before anyone ever bothered to see the rest. The version that knew exactly how to disappear in plain sight.
And she’d just pulled it on like a goddamn mask in front of them.
I fought every fucking need I had to protest. Of course she could still do that. Of course she could go blank-eyed and harmless in a space full of predators and make it look easy.
But I also knew what it cost her to do it.
The Matriarch dismissed all but two of her guards with a gesture and kept walking.
She expected the world to bend to her, and for a long time, it had.
But I’d bet fear beat within her now, tempting the Nightfall Forest to turn on her.
Maybe that’d been the witch’s plan all along. Clever little thing.
The familiar building we were led to was a brothel, though that word didn’t quite cover what the place was to the nymphs.
Currency. Control. The means by which the Matriarch kept her whole damn regime fed.
It announced itself from half a street away.
Sounds first, low and unmistakable. Then the smell of things I had no interest in identifying.
We followed without looking sideways and didn’t comment on anything we heard.
Like the last time I’d been here hunting for Lyric, after weeks in that fucking forest, the Matriarch’s chamber was at the top.
High ceilings, dark walls, a single window covered in heavy fabric that let no light and no air through.
The guards took positions at the door as it closed behind us, and then it was only the five of us in silence.
The Matriarch turned. Her violet eyes went to Syn first, then to me. “You have your privacy, Silas. And I’ve been quite accommodating. Now prove the Phoenix is bound to you or this goes no further. I’ll have your tongue for the lie and her for my collection.”
I smiled. Let it sit on my face the way I knew she liked it, lazy and dangerous. I reached for my sleeve and rolled it back slowly, unhurried, watching her watch me do it. I was fully aware I was going to have to beg my witch for forgiveness after this.
“What would you like her to do?”
The nymph’s mouth curved. She tilted her chin toward the guard on the left. Tall, dark-eyed and watching Syn with an attention that made every muscle in my body tighten. “No one makes more beautiful sounds when she’s brought to climax than Osala. Force your witch to take her there. Give us a show.”
I held myself completely still. The disdain sitting in my gut like a coal. Then I turned to face Syneca.
She was already looking at me. Those beautiful eyes steady and waiting and absolutely furious in the way that only she could manage, rage held so perfectly still it looked like calm to anyone who didn’t know her.
But I did know her. And there was a good chance the only green forest in this world was going to burn today.
“You heard the woman,” I said. “Do as you’re bid.”
One second. She held my eyes for one second, and what moved through the bond in that moment was a hot and certain fury that I deserved entirely. Then she turned toward the guard, held her chin up, her spine straight and moved.
She took two steps.
“Actually. I’ve changed my mind.” I turned back to the Matriarch.
“Bringing a nymph to climax is too much of a treat. It’s hardly proof of obedience.
” I crossed the room to Syn in four steps and wrapped my fingers around her throat, feeling her pulse beneath my hand.
I leaned down because I couldn’t help the pull to her.
Couldn’t help but drown in this single moment with her.
Her breath skated across my mouth. This close, I could feel the way she trusted me, though she’d never say aloud.
She was furious, yes, but she’d followed my lead into this room.
She’d let me put my hand on her throat. Somewhere beneath the anger she was still waiting for me to make it make sense, still certain that in the next second I’d turn on the nymphs and use the power she knew I had to bring this place down.
I forced myself to focus. To say the words I knew would gut her. “Get on your knees, witch.”
The bond detonated.
Not rage. Worse than rage. A devastating hurt that only came from someone you’d trusted doing the thing you’d never expected them to do.
I knew that feeling. I’d felt it the night she’d realized what Wickett had done.
And feeling it directed at me was the worst fucking thing I’d experienced in my whole existence.
There was nothing I could do. No way to explain it, no reassurance I could offer, no version of this that didn’t require her to carry that hurt for the next sixty seconds while I kept her safe from hands that had no business touching her.
I pulled my grip away and stepped back.
Syn dropped.
She went to her knees with fire in her eyes and flame flickering at her fingertips.
Even now, even in this, she was the most magnificent thing I’d ever fucking seen.
She’d done this because she trusted me, the monster, even in her anger.
She’d done it because we needed information, despite her pride.
I hated myself with a completeness I hadn’t known I was still capable of.
Walking back to the Matriarch, I saw it immediately in her expression, that sliver of uncertainty.
She still doubted. I thought about kissing her again, taking her to a place where she couldn’t discern motive from desire.
I thought about taking her face in my hands and giving her the attention she’d been waiting for.
But I couldn’t force myself to touch her.
So I buried her doubt and placed the nail in my coffin, solidifying the bargain I’d made with Syn’s grandmother as I stared into the Matriarch’s eyes and commanded my witch.
“Now crawl to me.”