Page 30 of Her Blind Deception (The Dark Reflection #2)

Chapter Thirty

W e approached the palace as the day was turning to night. The city was strangely quiet, missing much of the evening bustle. Those on foot seemed to race to their destinations without stopping to talk to those they passed, their heads constantly turning to check their surroundings like they were chickens expecting a fox. There were still those selling wares from trays and beggars meandering about, but there was a hesitancy about them.

‘Something isn’t right,’ I called to Cotus. He didn’t reply. He’d been grouchy with me ever since I’d returned to the cabin in the Yawn to find him still waiting for me, mad with fear that he would have to return to the palace without me and be blamed for my disappearance. He hadn’t liked that I’d left in the middle of the night without a word, didn’t like that I hadn’t trusted him. He especially didn’t like that I had returned without Gwinellyn, and I realised that he had been expecting to parade her back through the city like he was some sort of hero who’d gone and rescued her instead of the man who’d taken her away in the first place .

I’d told him I hadn’t found her.

It would have been better for her if I hadn’t.

But then I would be dead, I reminded myself. I had done the best I could for her without sacrificing myself. Now I just needed to figure out what to do next.

What to do about Draven.

And I needed to figure it out before the month ended and Baba Yaga expected me to return. Fire and brimstone, I was tired of being tangled up in magic and debts.

Dread sank through my stomach as I caught sight of a grey smudge against the sunset, hanging above roughly where the palace sat at the pinnacle of the city. It looked like smoke.

Why would there be smoke?

As we rolled into the square beyond the palace gates, my question was answered.

‘Madeia help me,’ I whispered to myself.

The square was full of pyres, dozens of them, most long since passed the height of their inferno and now just smouldering piles of charred debris, still belching smoke. The coach rolled slowly through them, like Cotus wanted to get a good look, and I stared at each one we passed, terrified of seeing something I didn’t want to see, yet unable to look away. I wanted to think this had just been a series of bonfires, perhaps the remains of some kind of celebration the likes of which the city had never seen before. But I wasn’t stupid. I wished I was stupid.

The soldier who opened the door at the gates blanched white as paper when he saw me, waving us through with a mouthful of apologies and not a single question. I couldn’t help but think he was afraid of me. The footman who opened the coach door and helped me out was just as jittery, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. The two who fetched my trunk fumbled, almost dropped it, and I didn’t even snap at them because they seemed frightened enough already.

Whatever had happened while I’d been gone, it had been very bad.

I charged through the strangely empty entrance hall, ignoring how uneasy it made me feel to not find counsellors and courtiers and attendants ready to harass me, and took the stairs as fast as dignity would allow. I wanted a bath. I wanted it now. Only then would I deal with the rest of it.

I swept down a wide hallway hung with portraits and enough glisoch to hang myself with when a voice immobilised me mid step.

‘Why the hurry, my dear?’ He was an eclipse in a doorway, leaning against the frame with folded arms and glinting eyes. ‘Are you looking for me?’

‘There’s no need. You always turn up if I wait long enough.’

He curled a finger, beckoning me over, and I let him lead me out into a courtyard full of stone pillars and shadows slanting in the evening light.

He studied me for a loaded moment, and the space between us thrummed with whispers and secrets and lies. My body came alive with the memory of his hands and his lips on my skin, and I suddenly realised how well I knew him. Because as he stood there wearing a mask of indifference, I could see he was anything but. His arms were crossed, one finger tapping restlessly against a bicep, his jaw tight. His hair was dishevelled, like he’d been running his hand through it. If we were playing cards, I would call his bluff right now .

‘It is done?’ he asked.

‘Wouldn’t I be dead if it wasn’t?’

He moved closer, his steps measured, careful. ‘I want to hear you say it.’

‘It’s done.’ I held his gaze.

‘She’s dead?’

‘She ate the apple. I didn’t stay to watch.’

He nodded, then reached out a hand to me.

I flinched away. ‘Don’t touch me.’ Suddenly, I was angry. So angry. ‘How dare you try to touch me? You have tangled me in schemes I never wanted any part in, you have concealed the truth from, and you have made me kill for you. I don’t want you anywhere near me.’

His expression cracked, and the anger that spilled forth sharpened and darkened his features, making him seemed sinister and strange. ‘And you’ve just been a blameless dupe this entire time? You wanted something and you did what was necessary to have it. Just as I did. You could have turned me down in the very beginning, kept to your rug and your street corner in the rain. From the beginning, you knew our deal would involve magic and deception. If you were so concerned with morality, you shouldn’t have taken it.’

‘You never told me our deal would involve killing people. I will never forgive you for the person you have turned me into,’ I spat, spinning away from him.

He grabbed at my shoulder, halting me. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he hissed. ‘We aren’t done here.’

‘Why should you get to decide that? Our deal is fulfilled. I’m not beholden to you anymore. I say we’re done. I’m done being near you, I’m done following your orders and I’m done with you.’ I tried to yank my arm away from him. ‘Get your hands off me.’

His other hand closed in on me. ‘You want me to come at you in a rage, don’t you? You want me to cage your anger so you can fuck me while screaming that you hate me. Then you won’t have to disturb all those pretty lies your wrap yourself in, the ones where you say that you don’t long for me, that you don’t belong to me.’

His grip tightened and he pressed his face into the crook of my neck, the rough stubble of his jaw scratching at my skin in a way that set my alight, that made my lips part in a sharp inhale, wanting him in a way I knew damn sure I shouldn’t. ‘I’m going to tear those lies from you,’ he hissed. ‘I’m going to strip you bare, and when I’m done all you’ll know is that we’re bound together now, that you’re mine and you’ll never be done with me.’

He released me and I jerked away, throwing him a look that was all sharp edges. ‘You’re delusional.’

His responding smile was grim. ‘Run away, Rhiandra. I’ll not give chase. For now. But I’ll come for you eventually.’

The words chilled me, but I left him there, treading a quick retreat to my rooms. What was I supposed to do now? Everything was so tangled up I could no longer see the beginning or end.

A maid was unpacking my travelling crate when I entered my room. ‘Get out,’ I barked, and she dropped the pair of gloves she’d been holding and fled, her face white. I dropped to my knees and dug through the trunk until I touched the heavy wool of my old travelling cloak. Clothing fell away, landing splayed on the floor like fallen birds, as I wrenched the mirror free of the trunk and unwrapped the cloak, revealing the gilded frame, the eternally clear surface of the glass, the cruelty of my past written over my face in hardened scar tissue.

I had done terrible things to keep from being that girl. That girl would never have seduced a king, would never had become queen. That girl would never have Draven claiming her as his own. That girl was powerless, and I was not. Whatever his threats, it was clear he wanted me as much as I did him. There was power in that. I could find a way to contain him. And when I did, I would find a way to wake Gwinellyn from her enchanted sleep. Because if I didn’t, I may as well have killed her, and I would not cross that line. Not with her. Not when she was so innocent. Not when she’d forgiven me so readily for drugging her and stranding her in the Yawn, when she’d only shown me sympathy, had offered to help me. I could find a way to come out on top without having to sacrifice the few shreds of morality I was still clinging to. As soon as I figured out what to do about Draven.

I just needed time.

The heat from the water seeped into my muscles, loosening them, leaving me limp and exhausted. I sank lower until I was submerged all the way up to my chin and all I could see around me was bubbles and scented steam.

‘Is the water too hot?’ Leela asked as she laid out towels and soaps .

‘No. I wanted scalding.’

Her footsteps withdrew from the room and I closed my eyes. The memory of Gwinellyn biting the apple burst into sharp relief, and I blinked them open again. I wanted so badly to be able to open up my head and scrub out the muck coating my mind. After all, I’d only done what was necessary. I could have killed the girl, but I didn’t. Instead, I’d risked my neck going to Baba Yaga, and twisted myself up in another betrayal of the man who shared my bed.

I should have just killed her.

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor prompted me to open my eyes, and I found that Leela was sitting by the tub with two glasses in hand. She offered me one, and when I accepted it, she took a hearty gulp of hers. I had been relieved to find that she hadn’t fled the city like I’d suggested she do in my note. I needed her. Selfishly, I did.

‘I thought you said you didn’t drink,’ I said.

‘I don’t.’ She took another mouthful, effectively emptying the glass with a wince.

‘It seems like you’re committed to changing that.’

‘How much do you know of what’s happened while you’ve been gone?’ The words tumbled out of her in a torrent, and I shrank slightly lower in the water at the anxiety in them.

‘I saw the pyres.’

‘Do you know who they were?’

‘No.’

‘Priests.’ She said the word in little more than a whisper. ‘Every paptich who sits in judgement at the courts.’

‘Priests?’ I repeated, as though I could have misheard her.

She nodded. ‘Lord Sherman, too. No trial or sentencing. Just dragged to a pyre and set alight. And the Grand Paptich is imprisoned in Sentinel’s Tower. People are saying he’ll be executed too, only the king is waiting to do it alongside the Grand Weaver.’

‘He’s razing the Sanctum,’ I whispered. I knocked back my own drink now, old words echoing in my mind. Linus’s words. Not something I would usually think about. It would only take one mad king. If Draven dismantled the Guild and the Sanctum, there’d be no check on what he could do. He’d have absolute power.

‘Did you get your family out of the city, like I told you to?’ I asked her. She nodded. ‘Then you should follow them, Leela.’

She touched my wet shoulder. ‘I won’t leave while you’re still here. Whatever’s going to happen, I’ll be right by your side when it does. You need someone you can trust.’

We sat in silence for a moment, and I stared at the bubbles on the water, thinking of the men now in piles of ashes in the square.

‘We should take him down.’ Leela’s voice came out barely a scrape against the silence. ‘Before he does anything else. Before he hurts you.’ I had no idea what I wanted to do next. But the thought of taking him down make me feel nauseous. Would he really hurt me? Could I really hurt him?

‘Whatever we do, we have to plan it carefully,’ was all I said. It wasn’t agreement. It wasn’t denial. I tried to smile at her. ‘Go and turn in for the night. I’m alright. We can talk more tomorrow.’

‘If you’re sure,’ she said, slowly getting to her feet, lingering a bit longer. ‘I can be back in a bell if you need me.’

‘I know.’ I raised my glass to her. ‘Thank you for the drink.’

She withdrew, and I finished my drink alone, swirling my fingers through the bubbles and letting the heat of the water unwind me. I would think about it. I would think about all of it. But tomorrow. Not tonight.

When I heard movement in the next room, I knew immediately that it wasn’t Leela. I put my glass down and submerged myself in the water, letting the heat fill my ears and nose and wishing I could just disappear for a few minutes into a place where my choices weren’t wrapped so tightly around my neck that they threatened to strangle me. I stayed under until my lungs were screaming, listening to the rush of white noise and delaying the moment when my life would continue to roll towards the precipice I felt it building to, when something would give way.

Finally re-emerging, I sucked in a needy breath and wiped water out of my eyes to find Draven leaning against the wall, watching me.

‘I despise you,’ I said.

‘I know.’

I swirled the bubbles around as I eyed him warily. ‘I don’t want to see you.’

‘Then close your eyes.’

As he crossed the room, he shrugged his shirt off and it dropped to the cold floor. The candlelight flickered over the dunes of his shoulders and chest, licks of light and shadow that revealed and then obscured, and I couldn’t help but drink him in, the places where smooth skin erupted into jagged scars, the rippling expanse of his stomach, the point where hipbones met muscle to form two shadowy ridges that drew the eye down. My fingers tingled with the longing to touch him.

I drew my feet to myself as he stepped into the other end of the bath, sinking down below the milky waterline and leaning against the side with his arms slung along the rim. My heart was beating faster than it should. There was a part of me that expected him to know what I’d done, to sense that I’d found a way to deceive him again.

‘I missed you,’ he said finally. The words were so unexpectedly sweet that I almost wanted to laugh. Or to cry. But the lies were clogging up my throat, so I simply didn’t respond at all, just watched him warily. ‘I think, deep down, you missed me too.’

I let out a slow breath, trying to keep the fury burning so I wouldn’t feel that yearning warmth that had woken in my chest. ‘You often confuse what you want with what’s true.’

‘You’re no judge of truth, especially you own.’ His lips twitched into a half smile. ‘What a pair we make.’

‘A pair of liars.’ I held his stare, the heat of the water magnifying the desire flushing my skin. He would see it. He always did.

‘I let my emotions get the better of me before,’ he said quietly. ‘I shouldn’t have.’

‘We bring out the worst in each other.’ It sounded like an accusation.

‘Depends on your definition of worst.’ He tilted his head to the side, something in his expression that I couldn’t name. ‘You have something in your hair,’ he said after a moment, and his voice was a little hoarse. He reached out and gently captured my hand. ‘Here.’

I let him pull me to him. I wanted his arms around me too badly to resist. He drew me back to his chest, cradling me between his legs, and his hands went to my hair, gently untangling it with patient fingers, dropping a twig over the edge of the bath when it was free. Then he was pouring soap from a bottle and working it through my tresses, massaging my scalp, and I could feel the tension in me unknotting, seeping away into the water, rising with the steam. With a quiet sigh, I leaned back against him and closed my eyes, letting myself enjoy him for just this moment, savouring the tenderness in the way he scooped water onto my head to rinse out the suds, pretended it could all be as simple as how good this felt.

He moved his fingers down my neck, kneading out the fatigue of the journey, dropping a kiss to the shell of my ear.

‘I forgive you,’ he murmured. He was tracing my collarbones, trailing fingertips down my chest. ‘For all of it.’

‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ I said, and he kissed the hollow behind my ear, the nape of my neck, the sensitive curve of my shoulder. His hands slipped over my breasts, massaging the wet skin, capturing the peaks of my nipples in a rush of pleasure that had me arching my back just a little, pressing myself into his hands.

‘We don’t have to talk at all.’

As he slid one of his hands lower, stroking at my stomach, my pelvis, teasing me just a little longer, I couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it had suddenly become. It was like he didn’t want to interrogate me, to make sure I hadn’t deceived him again. Maybe he didn’t have the energy to fight me, either.

I inhaled sharply as he finally slipped his hands between my legs, leaning further against him, into him, the hard press of him against my back the only hint there was any urgency in his movements. He dipped one finger into me, then another, still massaging my breast and kissing my neck.

‘This doesn’t change the fact that I despise you,’ I gasped, pressing myself against his hand, chasing the pleasure that flickered along my nerves with every stroke of his fingers. Suddenly his hands were at my waist, and he was drawing me onto my knees, rising out of the scalding water into the cool air and the caress of steam, pulling me hard against him, his body moulding to my back.

‘We both know that’s just another lie,’ he hissed in my ear as he guided himself to where his fingers had just been, filling me with one swift thrust of his hips that turned me limp against him. I reached up and found his hair, winding my fingers through it, pulling his mouth to my neck as he moved, his thrusts slow.

Hard.

Deep.

‘But hate me, Rhiandra. Hate me if it makes it easier. Hate me if it keeps you with me.’ He scraped his teeth against my skin and curved one of his hands back between my legs, coaxing spasms of bright, inescapable pleasure from my clit as he moved in and out of me. ‘Hate me while you come for me.’

And with a wordless cry, I did just that. I fractured, disintegrated, climaxing around him in spasms of release, drawing a low groan from him as he held me tighter, fucked me faster. Still wracked with trembling aftershocks, I jerked away, and he slipped out of me, his hands sliding from my hips before he could realise the fight to hold me, and before he could decide to take me again, I was stepping out of the bath. I was still panting as I made it to the side table, my breaths tearing in and out of me, my legs weak. When I flashed a look back over at him, he was watching me with dark, hungry eyes, eyes that reminded me he just might not be human.

He stood, glistening and wet, water pouring in rivulets down the planes of his stomach and the muscles of his legs, pooling on the stones as he placed his feet there, but before he could follow me across the floor, I met him. I dropped to my knees.

I ran my hands over his hips, his thighs. He was looking down at me with those eyes that wanted to devour, that were too wide-pupiled and grey, his brows drawing together. He took my face in his hands.

I wrapped my fingers around his shaft and took him in my mouth. He was so hard. The breath rushed out of him as I ran my tongue over the head of his cock, watching him come apart with a sort of savage satisfaction, taking pleasure in the way he braced himself against the tub, as though his legs might buckle, his fingers winding their way into my hair, holding tight. It took so little to coax him over the edge, a few strokes of my tongue, before he was shaking, arching his hips, a sound escaping him that seemed animal, feral, pulsing in my mouth in a release that felt like something I’d won.

Because no matter what happened after this, I had owned his body. This weak-limbed surrender was mine. This heavy-lidded relief was mine. The fingernail marks on the backs of his legs were mine. Whatever we would become, whatever our future held, in this room, in this moment, we had belonged to one another, to our pleasure, to the way we longed for each other, to the way he sunk down to the floor before me and pressed his forehead to mine, eyes closed, our breath mingling in the humid air.