Page 14 of A Match Made in Hell

The skin he’s touching shouldn’t be bare. I used to have a bracelet there. The memory is vague. It’s hard to imagine the shape of it. The way it weighed on my wrist. But it meant something. It was given to me on the one day I’d done something to make Mum pleased.

If I take the tiara now, I won’t get that chance again.

Why do you never bring me anything, Willow?

‘No,’ I whisper. Stealing that prize money didn’t work. Stealing the tiara won’t work either.

The tiara shines brighter, reminding me what I’m declining.

The vision of me on the snake throne floods my mind again, but this time there are familiar faces kneeling at my feet: my parents, Sath, Noah, Sasha, all gazing at me reverently, whispering their approval.

Only someone brilliant and wonderful would wear that tiara. My fingers twitch.

I’d give anything to be considered brilliant and wonderful.

But first I have to earn it.

‘No,’ I say again, with more conviction.

‘No?’ I can practically hear the eyebrow raise in his voice. His lips press against the shell of my ear. ‘Think how ravishing you’d look in a crown, Willow.’

‘I don’t want a crown,’ I say firmly. ‘I want to go home and make amends. Owning something shiny doesn’t make me a better person.’

‘Are you sure?’ He’s playing with me, like a cat toying with a mouse it wants to eat for dinner.

I spin round to face him. ‘I’m sure.’

‘Last chance.’ Sath hooks a necklace on to his index finger.

He pulls my hair to one side, and I arch my neck instinctively, giving him room to lay it across my collarbone, shuddering beneath its cold weight.

Sath studies it, then me, his gaze so molten I could sink into it.

‘Wouldn’t you like to keep this? It makes your eyes shine.

Your face glow. It really is fit for a –’

‘I said –’ I force the word out – ‘no.’

‘Well, all right. You win. You’ve passed the second task.’ He smiles, but the moment feels kind of anticlimactic. At least, it does until he jerks his head at the necklace. ‘You should keep that. A gift, for doing well today.’

‘Really?’ I brighten, tracing a finger over the thick chain.

It’s no tiara, but it’s something . A sign I can do this.

I’m about to fasten it, to show off my accomplishment for all the world to see, when something about Sath’s posture makes me pause.

Despite the casual way he leans against a cabinet, hands tucked into his pockets, there’s a tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there before.

I cock my head, studying him. ‘You didn’t give me a gift for passing the first test.’

‘A mistake I need to rectify.’ The smile fixed on his face doesn’t meet his eyes. ‘You should always have a present for doing well. Take the necklace. You’ve earned it.’

I don’t feel like I’ve earned it. The same way I never felt like I earned my bracelet either, because Mum pulled strings to get me on that course. I’d been so greedy for the approval it offered that I’d slapped it around my wrist anyway.

‘Go on,’ Sath says. ‘You deserve this. Have it.’

I want to believe him. I want this necklace as proof I’ve done something right. But it feels more like a choker now, tightening into a noose that strangles my every breath, reminding me that doing well comes with expectations to do even better next time.

This necklace, just like the bracelet, is a trap. A carefully constructed fake floor concealing a pit beneath, and once I’ve tumbled in the only way out is to build a ladder of meaningless things, always seeking the next rung in the hope that it’ll raise me to the surface.

For once, just once, I’d prefer my one deed to be enough.

For me alone, unadorned by trinkets of victory, to be enough .

I pull the necklace from my chest and dangle it in front of Sath’s face. ‘I don’t need a present,’ I say. ‘I just need to get out of here.’

He studies me, smile growing wider. I glower in return. There’s a silver trident hanging on the wall behind him, and I fill the silence picturing it falling on his head.

Finally, he nods. ‘ Now you’ve passed greed.’

The magical energy pressing on my head lifts and it becomes easier to breathe, like I’ve entered a room with air-conditioning after running a marathon in suffocating heat.

Perfect. Wonderful. I can’t bring myself to be relieved as he takes the necklace from me and returns it to its case.

‘You didn’t have to lie to me.’ I stomp towards the exit, wanting nothing more to do with this vault full of things I can’t have. He reaches out a hand as I pass, fingers encircling my wrist.

‘For what it’s worth,’ he says, ‘the necklace might have been a lie, but you did do well.’

His words suffuse me with a warmth no necklace could imbue.

‘Oh.’ I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. ‘Thanks.’

We leave the vault side by side. The tunnel is brighter now, torches burning with more strength, revealing all the things I missed before, including doors, row upon row of them, all covered in white marks, like someone – or something – has drawn their claws across the wood.

‘What is this place?’ I ask.

Sath’s footsteps falter. ‘We’re in the Old Tunnels.’

Goosebumps erupt on my arm. ‘You mean the place you ordered us to avoid?’ The place the Sorter told me they’d used as torture chambers.

Without waiting for permission, I shove open the nearest door. Inside, a lone iron maiden stands well over six foot tall, with a screaming head sat atop the chamber. It’s wide open, a copper taint covering spikes which protrude, sharp and gleaming, from both sides.

‘We don’t use this area any more. I managed to put a stop to that, at least.’ Sath sounds bitter, self-deprecating.

I almost retort, now you set humans on fire instead , but when I glance at him, the barb sticks in my throat. His fists are clenched so tight his knuckles are deathly white, and he can’t bring himself to meet my gaze. I think he might be shaking.

And I don’t think it’s an act.

Maybe I’m a fool. Maybe this is all part of an illusion and I’m yet to witness the big reveal. For now though, I believe it. ‘We should go,’ I say softly. ‘I’ve seen enough.’

Sath does look at me now, surprise in his eyes, like he was expecting a blow that never came.

Further down the corridor, a door slams.

His head snaps in the direction of the noise.

‘I thought you said nobody came down here?’ My pulse kicks up a notch, fluttering with panic.

Sath blocks the doorway as he scans the corridor, while I bounce up and down, trying to peer over his shoulder. I’d be less afraid if I knew what was going on.

Another door slams.

And another. And another. Every single door in this whole damn tunnel is opening, shutting, opening, shutting, and something is wailing, high-pitched and shrill.

I clamp my hands over my ears to try and deafen it before it deafens me.

An icy wind sweeps into the room, the gust blowing me backwards, back towards the maiden –

‘Sath!’

He either doesn’t hear me or doesn’t care, because it’s not affecting him , he’s a great oak weathering a storm while little Willow over here gets blown about.

I dig my feet into the floor to stop myself moving any further towards that contraption, and am considering tugging on his arm for some attention, when everything stops.

I gasp. ‘What’s –’

‘Shh.’ Sath spins round. His eyes glow, and even in those human clothes he is painfully inhuman. ‘We’re not alone.’