CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
EMMERY
Once Emmery found the inn, the woman at the front desk with eyes like a cat smothered her laugh when she asked where to find clothing and food.
The demon didn’t seem to pay her much mind, though she clearly didn’t look like a soul and didn’t bear a demonic trait.
Maybe they thought her trait hid beneath her sodden clothes.
But she gave Emmery a room, free of charge.
The enchanted room provided everything they could wish for, all they needed was to think of it, place their hand on the handle, and open the drawer to find it there.
She produced a green knit sweater and soft black trousers to change into, but when Emmery wished for veramint to steep some tea for Dez, the empty drawer mocked her.
The small supply he’d brought depleted with his last dose, and his fever would return in only a matter of time.
Rather than scream her frustrations, she took a long hot bath, and prayed it would wash away all this heaviness. After what they’d been through and magic she’d expelled, her vestige remained thinned, but she couldn’t rest. Her eyes remained trained on that damn door.
It felt as if the labyrinth had shattered everything inside her, set her ribs crooked, and warped her calloused heart into a misshapen, smothered thing. And yet, there it was, still beating.
After pacing and waiting and nearly going out of her mind, she wandered downstairs in search of Dez, like he could soothe her brokenness.
Following the sound of soft piano, she descended the stairs and crossed the lobby to a tiny room, its dark circular tables and chairs bathed in supple red light.
A rich, matte brown pianoforte with wings, stars, and beasts carved into the wood like those in Deimos’s mausoleum, encompassed a low stage.
And perched on the piano bench sat Destonne.
He toyed with the keys, as if he couldn’t decide how to manipulate them. He started with a high note that tumbled into a somber melody, and as he plucked at random notes, he appeared lost.
But then he straightened his spine and really started to play.
Emmery closed her eyes as the song settled into her chest, filling her with a melody she knew. The same song Vesper hummed, likely one all Kenna heard, and mothers sang their babes so it lived inside their children too. Some inkling told her it mirrored the Ballad of Beginnings.
When the song came to an end, Dez patted the spot on the bench beside him, but didn’t look up from the keys, as if he’d known she lingered there the whole time. Sheepishly, Emmery padded over and sat, not sure what to say, though a million questions waited on the tip of her tongue.
Luckily, he burst that bloated silence. “My mum taught me to play as a child, and I learned more at the boarding school I attended.” His fingers caressed the keys as if they whispered to him. “I haven’t played in a very long time. I’m a tad rusty.”
Rusty? Emmery nearly snorted. “You’re very talented, but I shouldn't be surprised. You’re good at everything.”
He gave her a tiny smile, the kind one painted on to convince others not to worry, but his red rimmed eyes, pinked nose, and creased brow did little to assure her.
She wanted to comfort him, smooth her thumb over his pain and wipe it away.
To assure him everything would be alright and she understood the aching loss of a loved one.
Since her family had left her too, she recognized his roaring loneliness.
Her silence seemed to spur something in him, and he continued, “I’m ready to tell you another truth. It may not be one you want to hear, and you may not care, but I need to say it.” His gaze slid to her. “Will you listen?”
Emmery’s brows drew together. Did he truly think she wouldn’t care? That she would cast away his honest and raw truth like rubbish? She didn’t trust herself to speak and risk ruining this fragile moment, so she nodded.
“You likely already figured it out, but I’m not Asaella’s true heir.
I was conceived outside of a marriage bond.
An accident. A mistake. But because my father had difficulty producing an heir, he kept me as a backup plan to continue his legacy.
But he always looked at me with such … loathing in his eyes.
Like deep down he truly hated me and it lingered like a knife at my throat as I walked through life.
“But when my brother was born, his plans changed and he had no use for me anymore. So he sent me away, for longer periods each time, until I had no return date. And the relationship between him and my mum was complicated, to say the least.” His fingers glided along the keys, and the room swam in that beautiful melody once again.
“She was Hollow and he was Fallen, and as the gods would have it with their twisted and sadistic ways, they shared an implexus bond. The gods had tied them and then forbid them to be together. And, despite everything, I think my mum truly loved him. She had to. Because she kept going back to him. Over and over.”
He winced in disgust. “Even when he took a wife. Even when he conceived my brother. Even when he slit her throat and let her bleed for whatever reason he concocted in his mind. Because there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that weakens a strong spirit, more than an implexus bond. Or bonds of any kind, really. They’re shackles.
Leashes. Nooses. And I watched my mother wither away, and hand him her life, as if it never belonged to her. ”
A long pause spread between them. Emmery’s head swam with the details, but things slotted into place, and filled the cracks of his identity, opinions, and actions.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. She wanted to reach for him, comfort him, but his rigid posture gave her pause.
“It’s done,” he said, his words cold. “It’s all done. And there’s nothing I can do to change it.”
Was that why he sneered at her bond with Shade? After what his mum endured, it would give him reason. And she dared ask, “Don’t you have mandatory allegiance bonds with those in your service?”
Destonne shook his head slowly. “I know what it's like to have your freedom and choices stolen. I don’t wish it on others and don’t require it.”
As she studied his damp clothes, blood dappled face and chest, and last the crown, her stomach knotted.
Brennen’s story flooded back and the origin of all this struck her.
Control. “Did your father … did he—” She couldn’t get the words out, couldn’t shake that sadistic idea from her head, but she needed to know. “Dez, tell me what the crown does.”
His stiff shoulders turned to stone, and his fingers stilled on the keys as a heavy silence blanketed the room. “I think you already know.”
“Tell me,” she said softly. She shifted closer and watched his stoney exterior crack, then crumble. “Please tell me. Trust me with this.”
His jaw clenched and his eyes hardened to obsidian steel. “We made a deal. He offered it as acceptance. As love. And I was so starved, so absolutely and pathetically desperate for him to want me—I took it.” His voice shook as if his heart shattered with each syllable. “And he made me his monster.”
Emmery’s world split as everything inside her tore in two.
Every belief, every conviction, every shard of blame and self-hatred she’d placed on him, severed.
As he turned to her, his deepest secret laid bare, her torn world, the one she’d thought unmendable, stitched with his.
Because she too had been used and hurt and sold all the pieces inside her for love.
“He told me I was weak. That the crown would cure the softness my mum cultivated inside me. Like it was some illness.”
“Dez—” she started but didn’t know where his name led. Couldn’t see the light or the path or how to make any of this better. “I—I don’t know how the enchantments work, but if he’s gone, shouldn’t the curse be gone too?”
“He’s still alive.”
One by one, those three words struck her in the chest. “Does he still have power over you?”
“I don’t know.”
Another three blows and her mind descended into endlessly dark places. “What if—”
“I don’t have the answers, Emmery. I don’t know where he is.
I don’t know if he’s coming to find me. All I know is living is a blur, like the moment between waking and dreaming.
A haze. Everything is black and white and gray, and I can’t see past it.
I can’t see anything clearly. Not until—” He took her hand.
Blinked. Blinked again. “Until you touch me.”
The air knocked from her lungs. It all made sense: the mindless touches, reaches for her hand, the way he held her like a precious burden, were all because she temporarily cured the crown’s afflictions. And now she felt dried up, used, and her chest cinched tighter until tears blurred her eyes.
Dez tenderly cupped her cheek and as he brought her back to him, his gaze flicked over the gathering tears. But his touch no longer felt—
Gods, she didn’t know what she’d convinced herself it could be. His moves had always been calculated, always a use, and she was only here because he needed her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, and he almost sounded like he truly cared. “Did I say something?”
She swiped the wetness with the back of her hand. “No. I’m just tired.”
“Emmery.” He tilted her chin up with a single finger. “Now that I’ve bared my soul to you, don’t pull away from me. At least tell me what you’re thinking.”
She gnawed on her cheek, bit down until she tasted blood, and when she finally translated her emotions to words, she said, “I’ve been used too. My entire life.” A deep sigh left her. “I’m tired, Dez.”
He dropped his finger from her chin and let his hands fall into his lap.
“I suppose I’ve only contributed to that.
Between the pactums and having you retrieved from beyond the gate—though it’s hardly the worst thing I’ve done.
But you should know, I’ve never claimed to be anything other than what I am. ”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I think the thorns broke me down and remade me. Tore away my insides and scraped me raw. They left me this empty, soulless thing.” He stared at her for a long moment and said, “I’m trying to be better.
You make me want to be better. As I said all those months ago, I truly am sorry. Please believe me.”
They both sat with their choices. How this life had hurt them, how these circumstances shaped it, but how his pain and darkness cradled hers in a way that soothed the ache. And he’d crafted a damn good apology.
After an impossibly long silence, he asked, “Do you want to play with me?” The corners of his lips twitched. “You can be my other hand.”
Emmery smiled wistfully and nodded, ready to enjoy the last still moment before tonight. “Show me,” she said. Her throat worked with a swallow, and she hovered her fingers over the keys. “Where do I—”
Warmth imprinted in her skin as his gentle fingers placed hers on a few keys. He pressed down on her fingers and each note rang through her.
“Just like that. One, two, three. If you’re feeling fancy you can throw in a C-sharp.” Her furrowed brow only drew a breathy laugh from him. He tapped the higher key. “This one.”
She scrunched her nose and tried to get the rhythm down. “Like that?”
“Perfect.”
He reached across her to play a few keys before he returned to his side.
Their notes melded, the symphony of music beautifully sad.
She bared down, centered all her focus on those three fingers to keep the beat.
While she didn’t attempt the fourth, her chest swelled with the music, and uncreased those smothered bits of her heart.
She glanced sidelong at Destonne to find him utterly still, blood streaming down his temples. “Tell me something,” she said, pulling her fingers from the keys, and peering up at his puzzled face. “Something no one knows about you. A secret only I can hold.”
“Haven’t you collected enough already?” His brow lifted. “What about Brennen? He knows far too much.”
“Aside from Brennen.” She bit back the urge to ask how he felt about Brennen’s choice. “And I never tire of your secrets.”
A wicked smirk claimed his lips. “Then I need one of yours in return.”
“You first.” So she had time to search for something interesting.
His smirk almost widened into a smile. “I have an eidetic memory, accompanied by synesthesia.”
At the confused furrow of Emmery’s brows, he said, “I remember everything, vividly, which has been good and bad, but my mind processes things differently. My senses are sort of … crossed. Music and certain sounds trigger me to see colours. When I was young my mum thought I was mad, but the healer assured her it’s normal.
At least for me.” The smirk died with a tinge of hesitance, but he cleared his throat and said, “Now you. Tell me something fascinating, angel. I’m sure you’re full of all sorts of sinful secrets, especially with your scandalous taste in literature. ”
Emmery snorted and said the first thing that popped into her mind. “I’m double jointed.” She caught her thumb and bent it back to touch her wrist.
His cough faded into a chuckle. “That was not what I was expecting.”
Grinning like a fool, she twisted her arm and his brows nearly hit his hairline. Then Dez pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and the playful twinkle in his eyes hinted he pondered the limits of her flexibility.
She didn’t allow her mind to wander. “If you see colours, what do you see when you play that song?”
His playful demeanor shifted to pensive. “I see gold and red intermixed.” He sighed, then turned to her and tucked a damp strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m not sure about you, but I’m famished and in dire need of a nap.” His gaze dipped to her lips. “Come rest with me?”
She nodded, though her stomach knotted at the thought of tonight, but she shoved the worry away. And yet so many questions still swam in her mind. Before he could stand, Emmery gently snagged his wrist. He studied where she held him. “Why did you tell me all that?”
“Because,” he started, his voice rough, “I wanted you to know.” His mouth twisted to the side. “I’m not good at this. I can barely even talk to Brennen, but with you—”
He shook his head and blinked a few times. “You’re different. And now you know. You can do whatever you wish with my secrets, but I hope you’ll keep them.”