Page 46 of Malicent (Seven Devils #1)

“Yes. Where is he?”

“He…can’t come…when she’s here.” I mumble, blinking slowly up at the spinning stars as I fight through the incessant pull on my lids.

“She?” Kalix says, his voice roughening. “Is she what takes the blue from your eyes?” His words drift through me like smoke—like a memory speaking inside my mind. I don’t know if I answer aloud or only in my mind. Just before the darkness closes in around me, I breathe one final, broken truth.

“My price.”

I DRIFT IN AND OUT, caught between darkness and faint awareness over the next few hours. When I surface, I feel the soft cushion of a mattress beneath me.

I force my eyelids apart, trying to study my surroundings; they’re far too heavy, sluggish. The world blurs in shades of gray and black. I can’t make out where I am. I can’t hold on. My eyes slide shut again, helpless.

Voices break though, bleeding into the haze.

“ She’s dangerous! ” a woman snaps, her voice sharp with fear.

“She shouldn’t be here. That guard—and gods only know who else—would have been slaughtered if she wasn’t stopped.

Her eyes were black, and her beasts…those things were hell itself! I’m not questioning your judgement, I—”

“Then don’t,” a man’s voice cuts in, slicing through her like a blade. “Do not question me again.” His tone is cold, final. “She stays. Your task is to simply be a healer, not give your opinion.”

Then, more subdued, “Yes, Lord Black.”

The voices fade again, swallowed by the darkness pulling at me.

Time passes, I think. I don’t know how much later it is when I feel the mattress shift beside me—a weight, shifting the tide.

I’m too drugged to lift my head, too weak to even flinch. I am a stone on the bottom of a warm ocean. Some small, buried part of me trembles as the familiar scent of smoke and oak fills my lungs.

“Even when you tried to tear me apart,” Cage murmurs, “You were…magnificent.” He exhales, long and tired.

“I might be sick for thinking so.” His voice lowers: “We truly bring out the worst in each other, don’t we?

” He pauses. “Is it wrong to say I want that? To push you further. To peel back every layer of you until it’s all laid bare. ” He shifts, and I feel him closer.

“I want to feel your magic bite. Feel your eyes burn when you look at me like you’d kill me if you could.” Another pause, this time deeper, darker.

“I might even let you. If it meant I could get close enough.” His breath brushes my temple. “I won’t apologize. You tried to force bond me. You clever, devilish girl.” He laughs low and humorless. “I have a dark side too.”

A longer silence follows this time. When he speaks again, it’s quieter.

“I’ve thought about draining you. Your power.

Your magic. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t.

” He breaths in slowly. “I resisted. You…your struggle with yours.” His voice softens, almost tender.

“She told you to do it, didn’t she? I heard her laugh.

The Nightmother has wanted me since I was young, but I never heard her. Not until Nora’s…sessions.”

His voice breaks slightly. “I wonder sometimes,” he continues, “did she do to you what she did to me? You have lived in that place…all your life. She would’ve had you longer.”

He swallows hard. "That thought makes me violent, and I don’t know why.”

I drift—not fully awake, not fully gone. I’m back in a dream—buried deep in the past—from before I began paying the price.

Before she laid claim to my soul.

I SIT BENEATH THE WILLOW tree beside the pond at my coven, watching a swan glide effortlessly across the surface.

Footsteps crunch softly behind me, turning my focus to who approaches.

It’s Cage, motioning to empty space beside me on the plaid-woven blanket.

“This spot taken?”

Excitement pops off inside me after seeing Cage. He isn’t allowed out often, and he’s been sleeping through daylight hours lately. He told me that Nora has him in class at night.

I don’t offer him my usual hug because he owes me grapes after eating all mine last time.

I narrow my eyes, crossing my arms. “You bring me grapes?”

“Of course.”

He grins, plopping down next to me.

He scoots closer until our sides are squished together. From his trouser pocket, he extracts a bundle of grapes he swiped from the kitchen.

I squeal in delight, grabbing them greedily and stuffing my mouth full. My previous annoyance with him is completely erased. I lean into him, squishing us further.

With cheeks bulging, I raise my arms to show off my witch marks that are now darker and more defined.

“Wow, Millie! Your mama’s right: you are gonna be strong.”

His awe makes me beam with pride.

“Of course I will! I’m going to be stronger than you!” I giggle, kicking my legs over his and leaning into his chest.

I love Arcadia, but the other girls bore me.

Mama says that I should be nicer as they’re my sisters. So, I try to be nice, but I grow tired of them.

Cage isn’t boring. He’s from the outside world. He has stories.

“Tell me about the markets again! The ones with farmers!”

Grape juice drips down my chin, but I don’t care.

He leans back against the tree, pulling a grape free as he begins the familiar story. His mother would take him to the market, and he’d get a caramel pastry he loved. Just the thought of it makes my mouth water.

“One day we’ll go to a market,” I say excitedly, “and get pastries!” I’m too young to be allowed outside of the coven to explore and see the world. His stories make me so excited to do just that as soon as I am as big as Mama.

“Yeah, Millie,” he murmurs. “One day.” His voice seems a little sad.

I lift my head, pressing my forehead to his. “Are you sad?” I try to read his thoughts, squinting and focusing hard. I have no mind magic, but, maybe, if I try hard enough…

He ruffles my curls. “You’ll burst a vessel squinting like that.”

I laugh, forgetting the question. “What if we both get mind magic!” I ask. “We could have secret conversations!” I lean back onto my heels, imagining all of the secret talks we could have.

He grins. “Just promise to never leave me out of the fun, then.” Cage reaches up, fixing some of the curls that have fallen over my eyes.

I hold out my pinky, and he locks his with mine.

We lean forward, kissing our thumbs and sealing the promise.

I DRIFT CLOSER TO THE surface, soft voices pulling me up from the dark.

“I don’t blame her,” Kalix says quietly. “Just like I never blamed you, my Rainbow, when you got out of hand.”

“You’re too good, Kalix. You know that?” Iris’s voice is soft and tired.

“Never too good for you,” he says. His voice cracks only slightly. “It’s you who’s too good for me. Hell, I’m a rotten bastard who’s just fighting to be a man good enough for you—"

“Kalix,” she interrupts, “I’m not—"

“Please.” His voice is a soft plea now, not a demand in the slightest. “Let me finish. I don’t expect you to wait on me.

I’m the one who waits.” He exhales slowly, trying to steady the emotions quaking in his voice.

“I can’t even romanticize the idea of letting go.

I’ve tried to fill the silence with something else—anything.

I always end up back here, buried under thoughts of you. ”

There’s a pause.

“I’ll never be late. You’ll never have to wait on me. I’ll be early, Iris—every time,” he continues, begging for her to witness the torment caused by such longing—the kind that is caused when you’re just within reach but can’t quite grasp something.

“Kalix,” she whispers, voice trembling, “I’m not doing this. Not now.”

And I slip again…away from their voices, from the ache in their hearts.

Back into the dark.