Page 11

Cat

I stared at the dress and mask laid out on my bed with hatred burning in my veins.

She killed my best friend. Cruelty killed Honey in cold blood so she could take her place and fuck with me, and I was supposed to sit here while she poked and prodded at my hair, and somehow find the strength to not murder her.

I’d already sat through an insufferable makeup session, fighting the urge to claw off her face the whole time.

“Oh, you’re practically trembling,” Cruelty said with a flash of a smile as she twisted and pinned a coil of pink hair to my head.

“I’m so excited, too! It’s been too long since I’ve thrown a real party.

All the ones in the domain are so dull, even when I can convince my brother to attend.

But this one’s going to be so much fun.”

Her idea of fun meant the night would be torture for me.

I ground my teeth, biting back words. She was right, I was shaking.

But not with barely suppressed excitement like she’d deluded herself into thinking.

I shook with rage, so hot and destructive that it poured through me like lava.

For a moment, I couldn’t feel that cold drop inside me where a sliver of my life was missing.

I couldn’t feel the ice or the death or the absence.

All I felt was fury and the need for vengeance.

My fingers twitched. I had a long, ornate hair pin in my hand in a millisecond.

“Oh, you darling!” Cruelty said, plucking it from my fingers, sliding the pewter piece into my hair where its coiled serpents and roses secured my hair. “You’re so helpful, Kitty. Truly, the best friend I’ve ever had.”

I was going to kill her before the night was through.

But I couldn’t. I didn’t know what all this was for.

Her campaign against Death, her obsession with weakening him, her glee when the gates fell.

It was all for something , and I needed to know what.

If I didn’t uncover her true scheme, it would be like winning Nightmare only to fall for another of her traps.

I refused to go back to that panicky, paranoid headspace.

Even if it meant staying here and playing best friend to a psychopath, I refused to go back to that.

I couldn’t let leaving my husbands behind be for nothing.

My throat bobbed when I remembered the breathless desperation in Madde’s voice.

If it hadn’t been for the quick spark of rage in Cruelty’s blue eyes when she realised I was talking to him, I might have thought I’d imagined it.

But it was real, and I felt the evidence in the tight knot of my heart.

It hadn’t unclenched since she ripped his voice away from me.

I hadn’t realised how quiet it was inside my head before.

Even with anxiety piling worries and paranoia and stressed thoughts in my head, without his bright enthusiasm and obsessed devotion, it was as silent as a grave.

I wanted his voice back, wanted to sense him at the other end of the bond, just for another second. Instead, the voice I hated more than almost anyone in the word cut through the quiet.

“There! You look so beautiful, Kitty.” She paused, meeting my dead eyes in the mirror, raising her eyebrows as she gave me a saucy look. “You’re supposed to say I look beautiful, too.”

“You do,” I said, my voice so gravelly it cut my throat. It wasn’t a lie. Cruelty was always beautiful with her clear skin, delicate features, oval face, and the bright happiness that infused her every expression. “That …dress really suits you.”

Be friendly, be friendly…

Cruelty beamed and executed a perfect spin behind me, the lightweight silk of her skirts fanning around her, the slit cut scandalously high on her leg.

The bodice looked like it lost a battle with one of Poppy’s creatures, skin bared between slashes in the powder blue fabric, offering glimpses of Cruelty’s collarbone, ribs, and hips.

The back was bared except for a crisscross of pale blue fabric across her lower back.

And lucky me, I had the exact same dress in silver.

To match our eye colours! Cruelty told me when she laid out the dress. I wanted to thrust my hand into her chest and rip out every organ from the bloodied cavity, but I forced back the desire.

“This is my favourite dress I’ve ever worn,” Cruelty told me, her blue eyes sparkling like sunlight on a lake. “If I’d worn this when I was alive, my parents would have had a conniption.”

“You don’t talk about them much,” I said, pouncing on the hint at her past. If I could understand her and the way her head worked, I could predict what she wanted with me, with the masquerade, and with my husband.

It had to be Death she had locked up in this manor.

He was the one Nightmare obsessed over, and everything Nightmare did was because of her.

It had to be him. I would dig through her history, through her psyche, and be the best damn friend she ever had, because his life depended on it.

I searched Darkmore from top to bottom, but found no hint of anywhere a god might be stashed beyond a few locked doors.

The library had been empty, the conservatory dense with dark plants but absent my Death, and even the attic and basement offered no clues.

If she had him here, he was well hidden. And wasn’t that the keyword—if.

If she had him, because she could be lying. But I couldn’t take the risk.

Tell me everyone’s with you. Please.

Of course they’re all here.

Madde’s voice, Madde’s promise. It was real, and he meant it, but … doubt was like a broken tooth, throbbing and endless. What if that moment with Madde hadn’t been real? What if she’d faked the flash of anger? What if she placed all those words in my head to mess with me?

“I want to see him,” I blurted, the words slipping out.

Cruelty stopped twirling, giving me an intense look that made me squirm on the dresser stool. Her stare pierced my skin and prised open my bones, seeing into the heart of me. Did she see what a traitor I was, pretending to be her friend?

“Your bonded one?” she asked, tilting her head, glossy brunette waves barely moving after how much hairspray she’d put on them. 1

Bonded one. “You said husband before,” I pointed out, too restless to stay seated. I paced over to the bed and ran trembling fingers over the fine silk of my dress. I didn’t want to wear it or go to a party, but I would. For Death, I would.

“Same thing,” she said, batting her hand through the air. “You’ll see him tonight.” Her smile was a flash of wickedness. “If you can find him.”