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46

WE WAKE UP tangled in each other. Nick’s palm has captured my belly beneath my top, his fingers spread across my skin. His shoulder curves over mine, a heavy shield against the sunrise. One of his pajama-clad legs is slung over my thigh, pressing my hips down into the too-soft mattress. My lungs might be crushed from the weight of his rib cage, but I find that I don’t care.

Who needs air, anyway?

The cramp in my calf, however, is lodging a complaint. I’m debating how long I can ignore it when Nick mumbles against my neck, “If we don’t get out of bed, maybe Mikael will leave us alone.”

I grin into his bicep. “I don’t think we’ll make it long without food.”

“I have a confession,” he murmurs, pulling me closer until his mouth is a secret whisper at my ear. “I’ve been sneaking muffins into the room every day after breakfast.”

I burst into laughter. “They’re not even that good!”

“But they’re lemon pound cake muffins. That amount of butter alone could keep us alive for a week .”

I collapse into a giggle, and he grips me tighter. I feel his smile against my neck, my hair. It feels good to laugh… until it doesn’t. Until it hurts, because I know it can’t last.

Because today’s our last day. And because no matter what happens at the communion—or the auction, if we make it that far—we’re leaving Penumbra tonight.

Nick swallows hard in the silence between us. Presses a kiss against my shoulder. Speaks my fears into existence in a low voice. “We could run, like you said.”

“And go where?”

Neither one of us has an answer to that, and he knows it.

“If I don’t go back to Erebus, he’ll come find me. If I leave with you or Mariah, I’ll bring the Shadow King right to your doorsteps.” I gnaw at my lip, my own confession burning in my chest, along with a terrible guess. “I haven’t told you about the bargain I made with him.”

His grip tightens. “Tell me.”

“I asked Erebus to train me, to make me stronger in a way that no one else could… but I also asked Erebus to take Sel to his mother to see if she could stop his demonia. I don’t know where they are, or if she could even help him, or if I just made everything worse—”

“William told me about Natasia. If what he said about her is true, then no one else on the planet could help Sel better than his mother right now.” Nick’s arms tighten around me, his voice forgiving and soft. “Thank you for sending him to her. You did the right thing.”

“Not if he’s this angry—”

“Sel’s always angry. His mother won’t be able to stop that.” Nick sighs heavily. “But I’m glad he’s safe. Relieved that he’s with someone who cares about him. Sel’s not good on his own. He shouldn’t be alone.”

I fall silent. Wait for him to demand my reason for not sharing all of this earlier. It doesn’t come. Instead, Nick taps my stomach. “Hey, what’s going on in your head?”

I swallow. “There’s more. More to the bargain.”

“I’m listening.”

“I asked Erebus to grant me two demands, and he agreed to both, but he only claimed one trade in exchange: my offer to go with him. I still owe him a debt. He can call it in at any moment and has threatened everyone I care about—everyone I love—if I refuse.”

Nick doesn’t speak, but I hear him breathing. Feel the pace of his heart pick up where it rests against my back.

I feel my neck heat with shame. “Say something.”

“I’m thinking too many things to say just one.”

“What kind of things?”

“Dangerous things. Violent things.” His voice deepens. “How to kill a god.”

“No.” I twist around to find that shadowed darkness in his eyes and clutch his face between my palms. “He’ll destroy you.”

“If he dies first, I won’t mind.”

“Nick, no. Mikael plays with his food—Erebus is beyond that. He waits and watches. Traps people when they think they’re safe, lures them in when they ask for help, finds weaknesses you don’t even know you have. He’s the real snake, the viper—”

“If it means you’ll be free,” Nick says, voice tight, “that you can rest—”

“I don’t want to rest,” I say. “I want to stop him. I want my mind back. I don’t want anyone else to die.”

He studies me, the shadow leaving his face until it softens at my fingertips. He slides one hand over mine. Pulls it gently away to kiss my palm. “I know.”

Today’s communion takes place after breakfast, to give Penumbra’s guests free time to themselves before the auction in the evening.

“Glad to see we all look like we’re considering escape plans.” Zoe stands with her arms crossed, in a vintage blazer, slacks, and low boots, gazing at the crowd around us in their masks and formal wear. Waitstaff drift between groups of people, balancing black trays in one hand, offering drinks to anyone who looks their way. “Wouldn’t want to be the only one not smiling and drinking Bellinis.”

“I don’t know how they can drink right now.” Mariah is beside me with her arms wrapped around herself, shifting her weight from side to side. “I just want this to be over.”

“Benedict and Iris.” Bianca’s voice draws our attention.

We turn as a group to see her and her warlock lieutenant, Lawson, walking toward us.

“That’s us,” Nick says.

Bianca waves a hand behind her. “You’ve seen the communions. You know how these go?”

Nick nods. “We do.”

She beckons her lieutenant forward. “Lawson and I will escort you to your seats.”

“You mean you’re here to make sure we don’t run,” I say.

Bianca’s smile is tight. “Why would you run?”

Lights flicker once, twice, overhead, urging the audience to enter the auditorium and find their seats for today’s show. My stomach tumbles. My breakfast choosing now to fight my nerves.

I give a final nod to Zoe and Mariah and begin to walk forward, but Nick reaches Bianca first. “I need to make a pit stop.”

Bianca frowns. “If you try anything—”

Nick smiles reassuringly. “Nah. Me and Iris are in this together. You can escort me to the bathroom and back if you want.”

Bianca purses her lips, then waves Lawson over. “Take Iris. I’ll watch Benedict.”

Before I can say a word, Nick steps closer to brush his lips across my cheek. “See you inside. I’ll be right there.”

I watch Bianca lead him toward the restrooms down the hall, to the left side of the theater doors.

When I turn back, Lawson clears his throat.

I bite back a wince at the acrid magic scent rising off his skin. “I’m ready.”

“This way.”

Lawson escorts the three of us to the front row, pointing out the open seat assigned to Nick. This time, Zoe sits on the far end with Mariah between us. As the auditorium fills around us, I start to get worried.

“Where is he?” Mariah asks.

I gnaw on my lip. “He’ll be here. Better question is how am I supposed to know when to go onstage?”

“Bianca or Lawson will signal, I bet,” Zoe says.

But then the houselights lower, and the stage lights rise to reveal two empty chairs, and Nick isn’t back yet.

Mikael walks out in a bloodred tuxedo, eyes bright and smile wide.

As if he hadn’t just killed a man on this same stage in front of everyone less than twenty-four hours ago.

“Welcome, Collectors,” Mikael calls to the audience. “This morning, we will reaffirm our discretion and truth with offered tribute. And, I hope, find our final culprit. As we have already uncovered the attempted thief, today we will pursue the individual who harmed my loyal guard.”

The audience boos and stomps in response, more active—and eager—today after yesterday’s bloodshed.

“But I bring news! Because one suspect has been eliminated, today we’ll have four questions dedicated to tribute instead of three.”

The audience cheers and claps. Hungry for more horrible truths, just like their demon leader. Even though they can’t feed on the anguish of the confessors, they desire the anguish all the same.

Mikael makes a motion toward the far end of the stage, and the first guest walks out. A short, brown-skinned woman with blond hair, wearing a dark blue mask and matching pantsuit.

I look for Nick again and don’t see him in the shadows or near the entrance. Worry creeps into my nervous stomach. What if he spotted Ava? What if they’re fighting again? But, no, Bianca is with him and he said he wouldn’t leave me.

He said that… but where is he now?

I’m so preoccupied with Nick’s absence that the woman’s confession goes by in a blur. I’m too busy sweating beneath my cardigan and thin dress. Mikael’s illusion prickles at the back of my skull, stronger today. As if he’s already anticipating losing control of his human form.

By the time the third guest walks out onto the stage, my heart is thundering in my chest in apprehension. I remind myself that when I sit across from Mikael, he won’t know who I am or what I can do—Erebus has made sure of that, and here, in the midst of all this horror, I can’t help but be grateful. My furnace is sealed up so tight, it may as well be welded shut. Mikael won’t discover that I’m the Scion of Arthur.

I’ve already planned to lie about attacking his guard, but with Mikael’s acute sense for human secrets, my lies might not be enough. And even if I pass that test, there’s still the tribute questions. Mikael wants my pain, and I’ve got plenty to give him, but sharing any of those truths will get me killed here. My every anguish and heartbreak and regret is tangled up with magic. With the Order, with Arthur, and with the rogue Nightshade’s own former king. Nothing I can say is something a sheltered human rich girl should know anything about, and resistance is a confession.

And yet it’s Nick I’m most worried about. My bloodmark may protect me if it comes to that, but it won’t protect him. If Mikael can’t punish Iris, an example must still be made—and Benedict is his next closest target.

The third guest’s confession, whatever it was, must have energized Mikael, because he stands from his seat smiling through a heavy swarm of deep green aether while that person staggers away.

Nick’s still not here, so I’m next. Mariah squeezes my hand, sending her encouragement. I can do this.

But as I begin to rise from my seat, Mikael calls to someone hidden by the heavy curtains to the right of the stage. “Come forward.”

And Nick walks out onstage.

Zoe leans over. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know. I guess… Bianca took him backstage instead?”

Nick crosses the stage in his crimson dress shirt and black slacks in easy, measured strides.

“Welcome, friend,” Mikael says.

Nick nods curtly and drops elegantly into his seat, posture loose.

I try to catch his eye, but he won’t look at me—and that’s how I know something’s wrong.

Nick’s masks are up—all of them. The nonchalant heir. The unflappable thief. The impervious liar. The boy without fear. And when Mikael’s grin grows wide, then wider, I know the Nightshade demon can see right through every one.

Mikael takes his seat across from Nick but turns to his audience to speak. “Today, I received an intriguing and unusual proposal. As you all know, we typically present five guests for communion who each answer five questions, but Benedict here has requested a change.”

The audience boos loudly, stomping their feet in protest. Mikael uses both hands to gesture them down and put them at ease. “Let me finish, friends. Let me finish! Benedict’s proposal is one I think you will enjoy! He has suggested that, instead of using the final two slots of the weekend for him and his fiancée in which they answer five questions each, he will take on the burden for them both—and answer ten!”

The audience cheers at this, clapping loudly.

My stomach drops like a stone. Onstage, Nick’s face is unreadable. Neutral and open, as if he has retreated somewhere inside of himself and is letting his disguises run the show.

“What the hell is he doing?” Zoe hisses across Mariah. “Ten?”

I shake my head, the words to respond stolen from my mouth. Why would he do this? I would’ve found a way to dodge the minefields of five of Mikael’s questions, in one way or another. But ten? If Nick resists at any point, Mikael will kill him in front of everyone.

I move to my feet—and Mariah’s arm shoots out to lower me back down.

She shakes her head. “Let him do this.”

“But—”

She presses me back. “Look at them. The crowd and Mikael are already on board. If you stop them now, they’ll turn on you.”

She’s right. It takes twice as long for Mikael to calm the room. By the end, I feel the sharp, electric wave of his talent flowing up my spine, a clue to the effort it’s taking for him to keep his illusion in place.

Nick’s face remains placid as he waits for the communion to begin.

Mikael turns to him, sitting back with one knee resting on the other. “I will ask you ten questions to help us understand if you can be trusted. If you resist your natural inclination to tell the truth of things, I will know—and there will be punishment.” Mikael smiles. “Are we in agreement?”

“Discretion and truth,” Nick replies evenly.

“Truth,” Mikael says, “and discretion.”

Mikael’s power strikes—stronger than I’ve ever seen it.

Thin, near-translucent wisps of green aether encircle Nick’s chest and flow up his throat like water.

I watch him swallow, but his eyes remain fixed on Mikael’s. Waiting.

“Did you attack and wound my guard?” Mikael asks. The glowing smoke of his talent pours over Nick’s shoulders.

“No.”

Mikael’s eyes narrow. Nick is neither resisting nor struggling. Mikael’s eyes flash to me in the audience, lingering long enough for his gaze to burn against my skin. Then they snap back to Nick.

Mikael knows that I could be the culprit—or that someone else here is—but he’s out of options to question anyone else. His only course is to press Nick, if not for answers to the crime committed in his house, then for food. For pain, guilt, shame, and torment.

“Do you know who attacked and wounded my guard?” Mikael asks.

Nick’s voice is clear. “No.”

I freeze in my chair. Nick knows it was me. But maybe after a weekend at Penumbra, I’m not the same girl I was when I entered.

Lies are easiest when they are close to the truth.

Mikael’s question required a simple yes-or-no answer, and Nick answered but did not elaborate. For Mikael’s purposes, he spoke the truth—and did not flinch or resist.

Mikael’s lips purse together, frustration evident on his face. “It seems that the mystery of who wounded my guard may go unanswered.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Nick says.

“I don’t appreciate mysteries, but that’s because I much prefer truths,” Mikael says, eyes glinting. “Eight questions remain and serve as tribute. A sign of your loyalty.”

“I’m ready.”

“We’ll see,” Mikael says with a hum. His eyes find me in the audience once again, then return to Nick.

“Why did you offer to take your fiancée’s communion?”

Nick shifts in his chair, the first sign of discomfort since he sat down. Mikael pounces on it, and his magic grows thicker and more opaque around Nick’s chest and shoulders, soaking into his skin, mouth, and eyes.

“Resistance will not serve you,” Mikael reminds him. “I will ask again: Why did you offer to take your fiancée’s communion?”

“Because…” Nick inhales, steadying himself. “I don’t deserve her.”

Mikael’s eyes widen, and the audience murmurs. Somewhere, several voices offer awws at Nick’s answer.

“Well,” Mikael says, “that was unexpectedly romantic, Benedict. But romance is not all hearts and roses, as we know. Why don’t you deserve her?”

The muscles in Nick’s jaw work for a second, but his answer comes faster, like he anticipated it. “Because when she needed me most, I ran.”

The smoke around him drifts back to Mikael, flowing up to the demon’s open, smiling mouth. Nick has given him an emotion he can savor. Two. Guilt and shame, wrapped together?

The most realistic, truthful version of an idea rolls off the tongue more smoothly than a complete fabrication.… It’s what I’ve learned to do.

Understanding strikes me.

Nick isn’t giving up easy lies; he knows Mikael won’t tolerate that. Knows the demon is hungry for the hard truths, the secrets that hurt. And in these first two answers, Nick has purposefully directed Mikael down the path that will hit closest to the bone. Nick has chosen the shape of his own suffering and the wound he’s willing to expose.

It’s me. How he feels about me.

And the audience loves it.

I shut my eyes against the sound of their delighted laughs and curious murmurs. It takes every ounce of me not to twist around in my seat and tell them to turn away. To cover their hungry ears and greedy gazes.

But when I turn back to Nick, his eyes are already on me, their message clear: I don’t care about them. I want you to know. Want you to see.

Mikael leans forward, pulling Nick’s attention away from me. “Why did you run from her? Details, please, Benedict. We need more than these brief answers.”

Nick takes short breaths against the circle of aether around his chest when it tightens. “I didn’t just run from her, but our—our friend, too. I ran because I saw something they couldn’t.”

“What did you see?”

“Death.”

Nick pitches forward as Mikael draws his anguish from him, inhaling and savoring it like a fine wine.

Mikael gestures with his hand. “More. We all see your lovely Iris sitting here in the front row. We know that she did not die. You must explain your answer—and why it pains you so.”

Nick catches his breath in quick, short gasps. Sweat drips down his brow as Mikael’s magic flows up to his skull, his ears. “There was someone else there. A man who wanted to kill me but wanted Iris more. To hurt her—” Nick winces, pressing his hands to his thighs to push back up while Mikael feeds. “I didn’t understand what I was seeing, how I was seeing it, but I understood what that man was capable of… and he was death incarnate.”

I hear what he’s not saying, what he can’t say. That he saw Erebus’s magic that day at the cabin, saw that it was more than a Merlin’s. Nick saw the Shadow King’s magic—and saw through Erebus’s disguise—but he had no explanation for the depth or source of that power.

Even I didn’t know Erebus’s true nature then. No one did.

“Our friend would have defended Iris with his life—and lost it. He would have sacrificed himself to protect her, and if not to protect her, then me,” Nick mutters. He shakes his head once, the next words ripping from him in a single rush. “I ran because I saw that if I went with Iris and our friend, death would follow. Our friend would die. Iris would suffer. And it would be my fault. My choice.”

Mikael curls his fingers in the air, and I already know what he’s pulling. Guilt and shame, yes, but also grief. Grief for Sel, who did not die that day… but who sacrificed himself in the end anyway.

When Mikael’s head jerks in my direction, his eyes flicker red for the briefest second.

My own grief for Sel, calling to the Nightshade before I can seal it away.

Zoe’s fingers reach me from across the back of Mariah’s seat, squeezing my shoulder until the pain stuns me back into the moment. I seal my despair away, sending silent thanks to her with my eyes.

Mikael’s eyes narrow at us both, then turn back to Nick. “I must say, Benedict… I wonder if there is something in this tale that you are not divulging. Something you are holding back. Tell me about this ‘friend’ and your Iris. Do you think there exists between them something other than friendship?”

Nick’s head jerks up, his own eyes flashing with anger. Mikael scoops that up too, folding it between an open palm. “Answer the question.”

“I don’t think it.” Nick’s chin twists to the side. He fights another answer before it erupts from between his clenched teeth. “I know it.”

The audience gasps behind me. Mariah’s hand clenches my thigh. My heart thunders in my ears.

For months now, all I’ve known of Selwyn Kane is what others have told me. I guessed that Sel and I had shared something… but I didn’t know. Assumed no one did. That whatever we shared, there were no witnesses.

But when I see Nick’s face, the hard line of his jaw and the stone certainty of his gaze—I know that whatever Sel and I shared had been witnessed. Had been known. Maybe earlier and more clearly than either of us realized.

“Do share more, Benedict,” Mikael urges. “How do you know this?”

“I know it because I know them,” Nick rasps. “And I know why there would be… intimacy… between them.”

“I see.” Mikael leans forward. “And how does that make you feel?”

Nick blows out a shallow laugh. “A lot of things.”

Mikael frowns. “You must name one—no, two—and why.”

Nick hesitates, his eyes searching for an answer that will give the demon what he wants. An answer he can give without resisting or lying—without risking a dagger to the chest. He turns to me. Holds my gaze. “Relief. Our lives are hard. Short. They both deserve happiness where they find it.”

“And?”

Nick’s throat bobs. I watch a flurry of emotions cross his features, so quickly that I can’t identify them all. Without looking at Mikael, he finally answers.

“Heartache. Because I don’t know what or how I’ll feel if… if their happiness is found with each other.”

While the audience oooohs , I feel my heart break.

Mikael tuts sympathetically, even as he draws Nick’s pain closer to him, inhaling it in steady streams. “Tragic, Benedict. Truly a tragic tale.” He sits back with a thoughtful expression on his face. “Next question.”

Nick turns back to him, eyes hard. “Ask it.”

“Oh, I intend to.” Mikael grins. “Before this communion, I dare say that everyone in attendance believed you and Iris to be a happy couple, deeply in love, and ready to begin your lives together. Now you reveal that she has had a dalliance with your trusted friend. You must have been angry with her?”

Nick’s answer is immediate, if breathless. “Never.”

Mikael’s brow lifts. That answer was honest—and it did not elicit one of demonkind’s most prized emotions. Nick’s anger did not rise.

All humor drains from Mikael’s face. “Final question—”

“You’ve asked ten already,” Nick states, shaking his head as if to clear it. “We’re done here.”

He’s been counting? I can barely breathe watching him endure this, and he’s been counting the entire time?

If Mikael is as surprised as I am, he doesn’t show it. “Call this a bonus round.”

“Changing the rules?” Nick gasps.

Mikael smiles. “Rules can change.”

“Convenient.” Nick huffs, fists tightening, but he does not fight Mikael. Knows he cannot. “Ask your question.”

Mikael searches his face. “You say you aren’t angry with Iris. Why not?”

Nick pauses before he replies. Then he raises his chin, casting his voice clear to the room. “Because she is worthy.” Nick’s eyes seek mine one final time. “And while I have lost my faith in the world… I never lose faith in her.”

As his statement settles across the audience, the room fills with silence.

When Mikael drops his enchantment, Nick shoots to his feet so abruptly, the chair clatters to the stage behind him. Mikael calls to the crowd, “What a show, what a show, my friends. In the name of truth—”

“And discretion,” the audience responds.

“Please give our friend Benedict your appreciation!”

The audience bursts into applause, but my eyes are only for Nick.

He glances at me, throat working—and stumbles off the stage before anyone can stop him.