Page 27

I’m stunned to hear the rattle of the doorknob shortly after my dinner plate arrives, the last light of day casting the room in a warm glow. He steps in, bringing the smell of fire and burnt skin with him.

I raise my brows at his disheveled appearance and the several streaks of dark soot covering his face. He surveys where I’m nestled on the couch silently, eyes flickering over the black robe I’d stolen from his wardrobe and the towel wrapped around my head. I probably would’ve dressed if I’d known he’d be back so early, but he’s here now, and I can’t be bothered. “Pet. You look comfortable.”

His words pick at me as if he’s trying to insinuate I have the better end of the deal here, locked in these chambers. It’s especially grating when the dāemon has already been picking me apart all day.

I’ve always had bad days with the dāemon. Heightened days where I’d be forced to commit some offense so the Grand Prioress would sentence me back to my room with no meals to save me from revealing myself. Days where I could do little more than count down the moments of its endless torture. Other days it would wane so dramatically I’d be left wondering if I’d only imagined it’d been so bad in the first place.

Usually, the dāemon could be subdued for a time after I let it wreak its destruction. As I had today, allowing it to empty in the invisible shield around the balcony in hopes that I could break it. It did nothing to the shield except blast back and crack the balcony’s stone floor. I quickly decided not to do that again.

Even after it unleashed, the dāemon didn’t dim for a moment, and I can’t deny it any longer. The dāemon is getting worse. Has been getting worse since the day I stepped foot outside the Wall.

I crinkle my nose as the unpleasant odor of scorched skin grows even more pungent. “You stink.”

“Do I?” He unclasps his cloak, and I grimace when I see remnants of blistered skin through what’s left of his shirt. His movements are rushed as he tears loose the remaining buttons.

My bitter feelings toward him dwindle slightly with guilt. “Are…you alright?”

“Fine,” he grumbles, not bothering to look up as he tugs the shirt off, wincing when some of the fabric clings to his skin. “I’m on a bit of a time constraint, so you’ll have to excuse me.” He shapes his hand, and I flinch as the roar of flames erupts in the fireplace.

He dallies in his many vials, spending some time perusing them before he pulls out this one and that. I watch curiously as he empties various amounts of each in the cauldron. He gives it a quick stir before tossing them back on the shelf. “Where…” he mutters under his breath as he searches.

He snags another vial and angles his chin down, teeth gritting as he pours it over the burns across his shoulder and chest. The clear liquid festers and bubbles.

“What happened to you?”

“Dragons.”

“Dragons,” I repeat in awe. He corks the vial, stalks over to the cauldron, and flicks his hand. The flames fall to a simmer. A tapping sound has our heads snapping up and to the side. “What is that?” I whisper as the tapping sound starts again.

“Probably Div,” he groans. “At the worst possible moment. Well, maybe not. I can use him.” He makes his way toward the door, pokes his head out, and waves a hand. “Get in here,” he snaps.

I rise as Div comes buzzing in after Sitri. “Div!” Sitri rolls his eyes, muttering something unintelligible under his breath. Div settles onto the back of the couch with a tired yawn. “What happened to you?” I whisper.

“Oh, you know,” he says, yawning again. “Things to be, places to see.”

“You—abandoned—me,” I hiss.

“Can’t say I didn’t warn you,” Sitri grumbles.

“No,” Div says defiantly. “I saved you.”

“You did not! He did.”

“Who do you think woke him up?”

Sitri and I share a look and he shrugs before busying himself back in his brewing. I position my face directly in front of Div and lower my voice to a whisper. “You said you were going to help me escape, and then you immediately came back and woke him up to come fetch me?”

“That was before I knew how stupid you are.”

Sitri laughs, and I realize we’re not being as quiet as I thought. I send him a withering glare, simultaneously shoving Div off the back of the couch. He flutters right back up. “You’re not ready,” he whispers.

“Oh, please do not tell me you two are cooking up another plan.” We both stare up at him blankly. “Whatever, I’d love to see you try to get out of here. Div, come here,” he barks.

Div props himself on an elbow as he lays down against the back of the couch. “No, don’t think I will.”

“Div. Now.”

“That won’t work anymore, I’m afraid.”

Sitri slowly turns back from the cauldron. “If you’ve tricked some other poor soul into being your master, then fuck off and go to them.”

Div grins. On another being, it might be a sweet expression. Less so on him as he bares his tiny pointed teeth. “I am.”

“Div!” I hiss. “What the hell?” I was hoping I’d at least have some time before Sitri found out the truth of that.

Sitri goes rigid, wide eyes settling across me for an uncomfortably long time. He lifts a single finger. “…you?”

I shift nervously, bracing myself for his scolding.

He shakes his head. “You made yourself his master?” he asks, stuffing his hand through his hair. “Divine--fucking--Mother, I didn’t even know a nought could do that.” He throws a hand up abruptly. “You know what, I don’t even have time to process that right now.” He retreats to meddle in the cauldron and, to my shock, barks out a laugh. “He’s your problem now.” I grimace when his subsequent laughs border on maniacal. “He’s going to make your life a living hell.”

I scowl at his back, but maybe I should count my blessings. This response is better than the one I anticipated. He bustles about, chuckling to himself every few minutes. Dropping another vial of amber liquid into the concoction, he tweaks at the flames until they lick the bottom of the cauldron.

He turns and starts forward suddenly, and I shrink into the back of the couch. Div yelps as he snags him up, struggling wildly as Sitri closes him in a fist. “Hold still,” he orders.

“Nope, don’t have to.”

“Well, I’m still going to make you,” Sitri murmurs.

He pulls out a single strand of Div’s hair and tosses Div roughly onto the back of the couch before dispensing it into the cauldron. I pick up my book but I’m not really reading it, instead watching him conspicuously as he parades back and forth between the shelf of vials and the bubbling cauldron.

Despite his injuries, he moves with a feline grace, arrogant and swift but there are subtle signs of his irritation, like how he drags a hand through his hair and mutters unintelligibly under his breath. Maybe not all that subtle.

I sit up a little straighter as he draws a vial that looks suspiciously like blood from the pockets of his cloak, dials the flames with practiced motions of his hand, uncorks it, and empties it into the simmering pot. Acrid smoke emits from the gurgling concoction as he stirs vigorously. “Was that blood?”

He meets my gaze briefly. “Yeah.” He draws out his pocket watch from his trousers, opens it and snaps it shut. “Dragon's blood,” he clarifies.

Dragon's blood.

He plops down on the other end of the sofa, uncapping a tin and begins generously applying the balm to his burns.

“How exactly do you go about getting a dragon’s blood?” It’s probably not information that will aid me in any way. I’m just genuinely curious.

I expect him to express irritation at my question however he looks perfectly pleased to answer. “In dragon form, it’s quite simple. I seek out a female dragon, woo her a little, and once—“

“You woo her?” I ask, incredulously.

He glances up momentarily and back down. “Yes,” he says, face completely serious.

The image that provokes has laughter climbing up my throat. He grows still, looking at me all wide-eyed as if I’m the one who’s just admitted to wooing dragons. “That is a beautiful sound. You should do that more often.”

I snort, a dull heat working over me. “Is that how you do it?”

He lets out a soft laugh, chin angling down as he works the balm over the blistered skin of his shoulder. “Is that how I woo female dragons?”

“Any species.”

He flashes me a crooked grin. “Psh, pet, I’m a prince, I’ve never even had to try.”

“You’re arrogant.”

He shrugs a single shoulder, not the least bit offended by that. “It’s true.”

“Except with the dragons,” I say trying to get the conversation back on course.

“With dragons, it’s very slow,” he says, voice lowering conspiratorially. He holds up his pointer finger and spins it slowly. “With lots of circling. You know, in the air. The trick is to be slow but persistent. It’s fairly simple unless another male starts competing with you. That complicates things. I try to seek out the less appealing females to avoid all that.”

“What makes a dragon less appealing?”

“The smaller females are less appealing.”

“Oh,” I say quietly.

His face is suddenly concerned as he jerks it back up and lifts a hand. “T-to dragons,” he clarifies. “ I don’t mind, personally.”

Suddenly I don’t think he means the dragons at all. It’s just like this morning all over again. My body burns so fervently I feel like he’ll be able to feel it emanating off of me. I shift, pulling my knees up to my chin in an attempt to hide my stupid reaction and he releases a low chuckle that travels the length of my spine. It’s as alarming as it is perplexing.

He finishes applying the balm, caps the tin before reaching forward to tug a roll of bandages off the table. “Once I’ve gained their trust," he continues. “I can approach and then, I, well—“ He breaks off with a grimace. “It’s actually kind of gross.”

My mouth falls open with the implication. “You don’t…”

He freezes unraveling the roll of bandages to throw me a startled look. “Wait, what are you asking me…”

I can’t bring myself to voice it.

“Hold on, are you asking me…if I fuck them? ”

“Do you?” I ask, voice little more than a wisp.

He barks out a laugh. “I’m kind of offended you would think that.”

“What else comes after wooing? You said it was gross!”

He leans forward and laughs again, a real one, from deep within his chest. Looking over at me, he must see something that sends him again. He breaks off with a wince, irritating the burns that dip down his side. “Fuck,” he gasps. “I have never fucked a dragon. In any form. And I don’t intend to. I was going to say I make a small puncture along their neck.”

He runs a single finger down the side of his own neck. “That’s where their scales are weakest. I take their blood, um, in my mouth and hold it there until I can find a safe place to switch forms.”

My face scrunches. “That is pretty gross.”

“In dragon form, it’s not so bad. It’s the part where I switch back to my own form with a mouthful of blood that’s especially revolting. But worth it. I will say…procuring the blood in human form takes a lot more finagling, hence.” He gestures to his burns. “I haven’t had to do it this way since the first time but this time still went a lot better than that did.”

He finishes bandaging his wounds, checks the time again before retreating back to his shelf of vials. He pulls one down, uncorks it and holds it over the cauldron. When nothing comes out he shakes it, and lifts up to peer down inside of it, uttering a swear.

My curiosity gets the better of me. “What is it?”

His eyes climb up to me and light up like I’m his salvation. His saving grace. The answer to some unspoken prayer. I do not…like that look.

“Hey,” he says carefully. He clears his throat as he steps up to the back of the couch and drums his fingers across it a couple of times. “You’re a virgin, right?” He poses the question as if it's the most casual thing to ask in the world.

“That’s—“ I gasp out, face flaming. “That’s none of your business.”

He hooks a single brow in quiet amusement. “Isn’t it? As your…” He lifts his hand to display his marked finger, displeasure evident in his bearing.

“No!”

“By your beliefs? Isn’t that the whole purpose of the…thing,” he asks motioning a hand over his face.

“No, it’s not! If those were still my beliefs, I would still be shrouded.”

“Because you’re a virgin, right?”

If I had the ability to do magic he would quite literally be on fire right now. He steps forward, and I mold myself into the back of the couch. He bends down and reaches into the cushions to take out the knife I stashed there. “I think we both know that you are,” he says, twirling the blade between his fingers.

I scramble off the couch, nearly falling over myself in my panic. “What—what are you doing?”

“Come here. I need your blood.”

“You can’t have my blood !” I inch backward until I thump into the wall. He prowls closer, and my eyes dart around the room, in search of an escape. I launch myself in the direction of the bedroom, slamming and locking the door shut behind me with a sigh of relief. It’s rather short-lived as the lock simply clicks back open.

I clamber onto the bed as he enters, forehead wrinkling in confusion. “Did you really think that would stop me?”

“Fucking magic!” I spit, lunging for a pillow to use as a shield. A better idea strokes me, and I lob it at him. It hits him across the stomach and we both stare down at it as it falls lamely to the floor.

“Did you just throw a pillow at me?” he asks, etched in perplexity before he breaks with a laugh. “What did you think that would do, exactly?”

“I was trying to hit your burns.”

“You missed.”

“I have more,” I threaten, diving for another one.

“You do know I could lock your limbs, right? I’m trying to be nice,” he says, waving the knife wildly.

“ Nice? ” I’d hardly call you chasing me around with a knife nice! ”

He looks down at the knife in a manner that suggests he’s only just realized that’s what he’s doing and lowers it, heaving a sigh. “I only need some of your blood.”

“I’m quite attached to my blood, thanks!”

“A couple drops,” he clarifies. “I only need a couple drops of your blood.”

“Why?” I’m practically shouting at this point, and the dāemon ratchets up in intensity. “You promised me! That there were no ulterior motives for my being here!”

He chuckles under his breath. “Look, I’m on a time constraint here. Do this for me right quick, and then I’ll explain.” He takes a step forward, and I hurl the pillow. It hits home this time, thumping directly into the burns across his chest.

He winces. “Ow?” He says, sounding more confused than anything. I dart for another pillow, and he throws up his arms to shield his burns.

“No! Tell me what you need it for first, and then I’ll decide if I want to be a part of your little experiment.” I rear the pillow behind my head to illustrate that I’m dead serious and he takes a few paces back, not a stitch of amusement left in his eyes.

“Why do you have to be such a brat ?”

“I want to know what it’s for! It could do something to me for all I know!”

He snorts. “What would it possibly do to you?”

“I don’t know! It could make someone obey or…turn someone into your thrall or make them want…”I trail off, a flush creeping across my cheeks.

“Want what?”

“Make them…want you or fall in love with you,” I mumble, each word quieter than the last.

His eyes turn cold, jaw flexing. “And where did you hear that, pet?”

“So you’re saying it’s true! There really are potions like that!”

“Potions have to be ingested or enter your bloodstream in some way. No potion is going to affect you by me taking a few drops of your blood.” He rolls his eyes and drags his fingers across his forehead, smearing soot, before he points the knife in my direction. “You know, sometimes, in the context of this relationship, it is really easy to see why noughts and magi have been at war for all these years.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He only lets out a tired breath. “I want to know what it’s for,” I say, determinedly.

“You remember when you high-tailed it out of here a few days ago in your very poorly planned escape attempt? And that I was only able to save you because I used a dragon-altering potion?” He pauses, waiting for my confirmation.

“I remember,” I huff.

“Well, you see, I was saving that potion so I could obtain more dragon’s blood, as it’s one of the requirements to make that potion. And as I just explained it’s a hell of a lot easier to obtain the blood of a dragon when you’re in the form of a dragon ! So it's because I had to use it to find you, that made obtaining the dragon’s blood a lot more fucking difficult,” he spits, gesturing to his burns.

“You’re saying those are my fault?”

“Yes. These are at least partly your fault. But—“ He holds up a single finger. “You can make it up to me. I need a couple of drops of blood from a virgin.” He flattens his palm in my direction before pulling out a pocket watch from his pocket. “And dragon blood is only viable for roughly four hours after it’s been removed from the host, which gives me about thirty-seven minutes to get this done or this—“ He gestures wildly to his burns again. “Will have been for nothing. I could try to find some other young person to accost, but I find the whole thing rather unseemly.”

He curls a hand to study his fingernails. “And why bother when I have a perfectly good virgin right here? Who so happens to owe me a favor or two or four, actually.”

“It’s hardly my fault you’re so poorly prepared.”

“Pet, just give me your finger? Please?”

I blow out a breath, shoulders sagging as I drop from the bed. Blood rushes up to my face at the damage it’s causing to my pride. He grabs my hand with more gentleness than I expect, his calloused palms grazing each side. I crinkle my nose as the smell of burnt skin invades my nostrils. “You stink.”

“You mentioned that.” He steadies my finger between his index finger and thumb, holding the knife above it with his other hand. I turn away, waiting for the pierce of pain. Several seconds pass, and I shift my attention back to him.

“You are a virgin, right?” My glare thickens. “Look, I truly do not care, but if you’re not, this potion isn’t going to work correctly, and then I’m going to have to do this all over again, and that’s going to kind of piss me off. So, if you’re not, I’d much rather you tell me now than find out later because I’m going to find out either way.”

“I was Shrouded.”

His brows inch up. “Right, but now you have me questioning because you said you don’t share the beliefs you were held to. And just so you know…sex does not require the use of your… face .”

My eyes roll to the back of my head. “I’m aware.”

“And, sometimes, these things happen against our will,” he says, voice softening.

My chest puffs with a breath. “Aren’t you on a time limit here?”

“Yes.”

He appraises me expectantly, and I tip my head to the floor. “I’m a virgin,” I bite out, face flaming mercilessly, and he flashes a pleased grin.

“I figured. I just really wanted to hear you say it.” I twitch as the tip of the blade penetrates the skin, but he keeps my finger still in his grasp. “Did that hurt?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” he murmurs. My mouth pops open in stunned silence, and his curls in delighted amusement. “So did the pillow.” He turns my finger inward and drains several drops into the glass vial.

“That’s more than a couple of drops.”

“Never know when I may need it again.”

“Like I won’t be here,” I snort.

“Yes, but—“ He corks the vial and peers down at me from under thick lashes, dark hair falling across his forehead. Handsome even in his soot-streaked state. “Will you always be a virgin?” He pulls my finger up and closes his lips around the tip, tongue flicking out to trace the pad. A fire ignites in my blood, my toes curl, and my lips fall open with a quiet gasp. Completely dumbstruck, several seconds pass before I obtain the wherewithal to yank my hand back.

He leans in and yanks on the towel at the back of my head, tipping my chin up to face him. “Despite whatever you may have heard, princess, I don’t need potions .”

The towel breaks loose with a tug and drops to the floor with a thump. Wet strands fall around my face. He forms a quick symbol, and somehow, even the way he shapes his hand is arrogant. “Just so we’re clear. Thanks, pet.” He flashes me a devilish grin before whisking out of the room.