Page 41

I strip off my clothes and study myself in the mirror for the first time in days. My skin is stretched tight across my cheekbones, my face gaunt, and dark circles bloom like crescent moons under my eyes. But still whole—still here. I turn away from my emaciated reflection and climb into the tub. I spend a long time there—carefully scrubbing every inch of my body pretending I can take each bad memory with it.

I steal Sitri’s fluffy robe and drape it around my shoulders. The bedroom is as we left it. The side of the bed still rumpled from where Sitri had hauled me out of here.

I’m grateful there’s no trace of blood. At the least, I have the bed all to myself for the next few days. I bring all of my books and the grimoire to the bed with me.

I spend the rest of the day there, even eating there when my plate arrives for dinner. I read and periodically scribble things in the grimoire when I come across something worth reading into. I read about the Lethe River and the Ettin Wood, where Sitri had healed me. There’s nothing that insinuates it has any magical healing properties.

I spend the first half of the next day in bed, too, until I grow too restless to lie there for another moment. The dāemon comes back in full force. I pace the chambers and step out onto the balcony periodically to soak up the sun like a houseplant.

His chambers are cluttered and covered in a thick layer of dust. He probably could have them clean with a few flicks of his hand but he can’t even be bothered to do that. I need something to do anyway. I locate some rags in the bathroom cabinet and get to work.

I’ve never cleaned a day in my life, but if I don’t find something to occupy my mind, I might seriously lose my sanity. Once I’ve started, I’m in it. I dust every strange object on his shelves, wiping them until they’re pristine and placing them carefully into their places--even taking the liberty to rearrange things in a way that’s more visually pleasing.

I scrub the floors, the walls, and the windows until I’m red in the face. It feels good to expend the effort into something. The fireplace and table are the worst of it, covered in a thick layer of grime and stains from years of brewing a slew of ingredients. I work at them until they shine. I make the bed and beat the dust out of the curtains, organize his closet, and refold each pair of pants in his drawers.

Once finished, I start on the ingredient shelf. Wiping the dust from the vials, organizing them into alphabetical order and scribbling each name of the ingredients into the grimoire until I know what each ingredient is for, where it can be located and what its uses are. Among the bunch are potions the grimoire states will force people into telling the truth, poisons, potions that cause paralysis. After I discover how nefarious many of them are, I handle them more carefully, touching them only with the cloth.

When I get to the one labeled Shamir, I pause. This is the one Sitri added to his blade. I think that look was because…it can get me out of here. I’m sure of it even before I scrawl the name in the grimoire. The grimoire only validates my beliefs. Shamir is capable of penetrating through many different kinds of magical barriers. I look at the door.

Where would I even go?

No, things have changed now. There are no noughts. No place for me to start anew…and Sitri, I trust him. I dust the vial of Shamir off and place it back on the shelf. I’m not going anywhere….however it is nice to have the option…

A tapping at the door alerts me to Div’s return. Sitri had left a small space in the barrier so he could come and go from the balcony as he pleased. Div demands I leave the door open and makes his way in and out, carrying a bundle of stones each time. “What are you doing with those?”

He doesn’t respond. However it doesn’t take me long to discover as I trip over a pile of them blocking the bathroom.

“Div! I’m trying to clean, and you’re leaving rocks everywhere!”

“I need them!”

“For what?”

“They remind me of home.”

“You’re not putting your goddamn rocks all over.” I pick them all back up and carry them to the balcony. As quick as I can gather them, he litters them around the chambers again, and I eventually give up.

The ingredient shelf takes me the entire day and half the night. I finally crawl into bed to find another pile of rocks under the blankets. I scoot them to the floor with a growl. I sink into the mattress and squirm my feet, sucking in a deep breath, weary from my work yet satisfied. I don’t know how I’ll occupy myself tomorrow.

I sleep late. The rolling sound of thunder shakes the chambers every few minutes. With nothing else to work on, I can’t coax myself to get out of bed. I lie there for a long time, staring at the ceiling. The dāemon is even more unruly today. I’m still in bed late in the morning when the unmistakable sound of footsteps taps up the hallway. I jolt upright. My breakfast plate has already been brought up today and it’s much too early for lunch. Is Sitri back already? The sound doesn’t match Sitri’s heavy footfalls.

I remain rigid as the footsteps sound closer. They stop, and three sharp raps punch the door. My heart pounds erratically in my chest. No one ever comes here. The only person that’s ever knocked on the door is…Morin.

I debate whether to call out to the visitor. It’s not as if I can answer the door even if I wanted to. Best to pretend no one is here. I clamber out of the bed and tiptoe across the wooden floorboards, nearly tripping over a pile of rocks on my way. I stick my hand in between the cushions of the couch, fingertips closing in around the hilt of the knife.

The doorknob twists and I dart back, holding the knife straight out in front of me as the door slowly creaks open. In steps Vera. “Hello,” she calls. “Oh!” She jolts in surprise when she sees me, knife still outstretched in front of me.

“Vera,” I gasp. I slowly lower the knife, clutching at my chest as I catch my breath. “You scared me.”

“I’m so sorry. I know you can’t answer the door, so I just…came in. I should’ve yelled something to you first.”

“It’s okay. I wasn’t expecting anyone to come up here.”

“Is it okay if I come in?”

“Yeah, of course.” I shove the knife back into the couch and comb my hands through my messy bed hair.

She shuts the door and peers around the chambers as she steps inside. “It looks different in here.”

“I’ve been cleaning. Bored,” I say with a shrug.

She eyes me, still dressed only in my robe. “I’m sorry. I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“Oh, no, just haven’t bothered to get out of bed yet.” I shrug again. “Not much of a point. What are you doing? Did you forget something up here?”

“No, I was just thinking you’re up here all by yourself. And I’m down in the kitchens all by myself. And—“ She wrings her hands. “I thought you might like to come hang out in the kitchens with me.”

“Oh!”

“Unless, of course, you don’t want to!”

“No, I—I would love to.”

“You don’t think Sitri would mind, do you?”

“I—um,” I stammer, dithering. I’m pretty sure Sitri would definitely mind if he knew I was leaving these chambers at all. We share a look that makes it evident we both know this. “Well, he did give you access to get in?”

“He did,” she agrees.

“He could’ve changed that if he didn’t want you in here anymore. Right?”

She nods. “Yeah, he could’ve changed it. Easily.”

“Right. And, he said, three days. He probably won’t even be back until tomorrow. So…”

“So, maybe it’s best if he doesn’t know?”

I flash her a wide grin. “Let me—“ I gesture toward the bedroom. “Change my clothes, right quick.”

I scramble to the mirror and it dresses me and twines my hair into two braids. I practically skip out of the bathroom I’m so excited. Vera’s still lingering by the door.

“We better hurry and make sure Kobold hasn’t burned the kitchens down. Come on,” she says, ushering me out the door. Once we’re in the hallway, she makes a series of symbols to place the lock back over the door. “We’ll take the stewards’ hall, less likely to run into anyone this way.” She pulls me through hallways I’ve never seen before. The white tile floors are scuffed, and the paint on the walls is in desperate need of a touch-up.

She sets a brisk pace, nervously checking each corner before we enter. We’re at the kitchens in no time, through a door on the opposite side where we’re not forced to walk through the crowded dining hall. She heaves a small sigh of relief as we enter and then tugs out my stool and gestures for me to sit.

My excitement has riled the dāemon and I grit my teeth, hoping it doesn’t intervene on one of the few chances I have to be social. Vera fiddles with a few boiling pots on the stove before leaning against the counter across from me.

She grins. “So, well, how do you like it here?”

I grimace, and her face falls. “I’m sorry, that was a stupid question. I’m sure you hate it. Of course, you do after everything that’s happened.”

“It’s not so bad,” I say unconvincingly. “I mean, besides all of the bad things.”

She laughs. “And you’re locked up in Sitri’s chambers all the time.”

I nod.

“And, Sitri?”

“We didn’t get along at first,” I admit. “But now he doesn’t…he doesn’t seem so bad,” I say weakly.

She regards me with interest and then inquires as to how exactly he’d healed me again. She’s no less puzzled when I tell her about waking up in the Ettin Woods. “He exhausted his magic?” Her brows shoot up her face. “Wow,” she mouths.

“Is that unusual?”

“Sitri is really powerful so yes, it must’ve taken a lot of magic if it exhausted him. Did you want something to drink?”

My arm twitches as the dāemon pulses through me. “Do you have any…wine?”

Her grin turns mischievous. She beckons me, and I follow her back into a store room filled with bottles of wines and a variety of liquors. A bottle and two glasses whiz down into her hands. After spending so much time with Sitri, the casual displays of magic hardly even phase me anymore. She pours us both a glass, and I smack my lips as the tart liquid hits my tongue.

“So…you and Sitri have known each other a long time?”

“Mhm,” she nods. “We go way back.”

“Did you meet here in this kitchen?”

She raises her brows. “He hasn’t told you?”

I grimace. “He doesn’t tell me very much.”

“My parents were friends with Sitri’s mother, Rhiannon. When my parents died, Rhiannon took me in. Let me come live here in the castle and gave me this job managing Kobold and the kitchens. I’m really lucky she did.”

“What happened to your parents?”

“Casualties of the war,” she says somberly.

“The war? Who were Magi at war with?”

“With each other. Went on for a century. It was only Samore’s alliance with the Gorgons that finally stopped it.”

“I’m so sorry,” I say.

She gives me a sorrowful smile. “I’ve been here ever since. Rhiannon was like a second mother to me. Let me spend holidays with them and everything.”

“And, you like working here?”

She nods. “It’s a lot better than anything else I could ask for. But it does get lonely sometimes down here in the kitchens with only Kobold for company. Kobold does most of the work, of course, but he has to have someone managing him, or he’d get way out of hand. Which reminds me, I better check on the line--I’ll be right back.” She darts behind the swinging door, and I pour myself another glass and swig it down and another before she makes it back in.

“Kobold, we’ll need more bread rolls, and the levin is starting to get low.” At her instruction, several cabinet doors open, and potatoes peel themselves on the counter as a pot of water assembles on the stove. “But yeah, it’s been especially lonely since Imen disappeared.”

“Who?”

“Sitri’s sister. He didn’t tell you about that either?” I shake my head. “She disappeared not too long after...well, after what happened with his parents,” she says with a grimace. “He did tell you that, at least, didn’t he?”

I give her a blank look, and she gapes at me. “He really hasn’t told you anything?”

“I mean…I know they passed away, but that’s all.” Her eyes widen. “And, he did mention a sister once, but honestly, I completely forgot about her. What happened to them?”

She backs up and clasps a hand over her mouth. “I should shut up. I should let him tell you about it when he’s ready.”

“No, Vera, come on, he’ll never tell me anything. He won’t even tell me where he goes all day.” Her eyes widen a fraction. I throw my hands up. “And it’s not like I have anyone else to tell me.” I can see her considering it. “Please?”

“Okay.” She darts forward conspiratorily like she doesn’t want to be overheard, even though there’s no one around. “Last year, Sitri’s mother killed his father, and she was executed for it.”

My mouth pops open. I close it and open it again. “ Last year ? I assumed his parents died a long time ago…”

She shakes her head sadly.

“And his sister?”

“No one knows. She just vanished. Almost six months ago now. It’s so strange. It’s as if no one ever cares to find out what happened to her,” she trails off, eyes going glassy.

“She was your friend?”

“She was my best friend.”

“Well, what does Sitri think happened to her?” Vera gives me a guarded look. “Haven’t you talked to him about it?”

“Pandora, you don’t understand. When you guys walked in here last week, that was the first time I’ve seen Sitri since before…since before his parents died. Besides from a distance at events and such. But on those occasions, he’s always with—“ She lowers her voice. “ Morin. ”

“Why?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know. Before, I saw him frequently. Several times a week, he would be in this kitchen with me and Imen. I mean—I spent every holiday with them. They were family. Before everything happened. When you guys came walking in here last week, I was stunned. I could hardly believe it. I hadn’t seen him in so long… But I was so scared that if I said the wrong thing, I might run him off again. I’m still scared of that.”

She grimaces and stares off, chewing at her lip. “I really probably shouldn’t be telling you all of this. I don’t want to say anything to sour you against him.”

“Is he that bad?” I whisper.

She shakes her head. “He didn’t used to be bad at all,” She pauses as if reconsidering. “Or that bad, at least. But I don’t know anymore. People say things...”

“What do they say?” I whisper. She’s quiet for a long moment in an internal debate. “Don’t I deserve to know?”

She heaves a sigh before pouring herself another glass of wine. “I don’t think he’s bad, Pandora, but I think she has a hold over him somehow.”

“Morin?”

She nods gravely. “As a teenager, Sitri was always dabbling in magic he had no business dealing in. It was a constant point of contention between Sitri and Rhiannon.” The corner of her mouth quirks. “They were always going head to head about it.”

“What was he doing?”

She shrugs. “Blood magic, necromancy, summoning—magic that’s been illegal for centuries.” She snorts. “But they were hardly going to throw him in prison for it when he was the son of the king.”

I make a note to look those up in the grimoire later.

“Who knows? Maybe some of that knowledge is how he was able to save you…but outside of that, Sitri was always good. He never treated me any differently. He treated me like family. They all did.”

Like family? “But didn’t you two…”

Her brows crumple. “We what?”

“Didn’t you two… you know…have something at one point?”

Her eyes widen. “Like…you mean—date?”

“Yeah.”

Her face goes from bewildered to aghast.

Of course, she wouldn’t want to admit it to me. “It’s okay,” I interject. “I won’t be upset or anything if you...like him or anything.”

“Sitri ?” she asks incredulously. “Me and Sitri? Gods, no.”

“He said you two had a history.”

She barks out a laugh. “I don’t think that’s the kind of history he meant. Imenand was my best friend. He’s like a brother to me.” She crinkles her nose, and a laugh spills out of me. I hate that it’s bred partly from her disgust but also the relief flooding through my body.

Her eyes turn inquisitive. “Do you two…?”

“No,” I say hastily. “Of course not. I’m…a punishment to him.”

She cocks her head with a small smile. “He likes you, though.”

“What?” I gasp. A panicked laugh works up my throat. “We practically hate each other.”

She rolls her eyes. “Please. When you were sick, he was losing his mind. I’ve barely even been around the two of you, and I can tell—“

“He was just being…a decent person,” I mutter, shaking my head. I can feel a flush working over my cheeks and down my neck and I busy myself in my wine glass.

Her eyes grow wide. “You like him too!”

I choke. “No. Definitely not.” Another panicked laugh slips out of me. “I hate him.”

“You do! You like him!” she says gleefully. “Aww, and you guys are already married. How cute is—“ She breaks off with another gasp. “Of course you like each other! You were firebranded! It shouldn’t even be a surprise to me.”

“Vera,” I say, growing more panicked by the second. “Please. I’m a…nought. A punishment.”

“So what! That doesn’t matter. If the Gods didn’t fall in love with noughts then Magi wouldn’t exist at all.”

“Please,” I say, lowering my voice. “D-don’t say anything,” I admit, conceding. “It’s stupid. It’s a—he’s the only man I’ve ever known, so it’s just--.”

“I’m not going to say anything.”

“Besides, I get the feeling he likes everyone if they have—you know—the right parts.”

Her brows furrow like this is a genuine surprise to her. “He didn’t used to be like that.”

I pour myself another glass with trembling fingers. “Well, he brought someone back to his bed my first night here.”

Her face falls. “He did?”

I nod and avert my eyes. When I shift my attention back her face is appalled. “With you there?”

“It’s better this way. I mean, at least he’s not like forcing me to—“

Her face grows grim. “Of course. I’m sorry.”

“I mean, I barely even know him, and he barely tells me anything. But he was definitely not happy about being forced into this marriage. He’s made that very clear.”

She stares off, lost in her own thoughts. “Why…why did his mother do that?” I ask quietly.

She sucks in a deep breath before turning back to me. “No one really knows, of course. I never really wanted to believe Rhiannon would do that, but all the evidence seemed to point to the fact that she did. She admitted to it.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “King Pelias was not always a good person,” she says gravely. “He was known to get violent, but Rhiannon would never talk about it.”

Sitri’s scarred face flashes in my mind. Could that have been the result of his father? I almost mention it and stop myself short. It’s not fair for me to share that when Sitri took such measures to keep it covered.

She swallows audibly. “I always thought maybe she couldn’t handle it anymore. People say she was jealous. Pelias had just taken Morin as his second wife a few months prior. But I think it had to be more than that.” She shakes her head. “But Pelias was murdered, Rhiannon was executed, and Morin took the throne after only being here for a few months.” Her eyes turn glassy.

“After they died, Sitri quit coming around. It wasn’t just me, either. He had a pretty large friend group and he quit speaking to all of them. He’d barely even talk to Imen. She was a mess over it. And, then…he started working for Morin.”

“It doesn’t make any sense. Im really never believed her mother was capable of that…she really believed Morin somehow conspired it.”

“What do you believe?”

“I don’t know what to believe. People say all kinds of things. They really turned against Sitri and Im after everything happened. I mean, they always had issues because of their mother being common-born, but that made things a hundred times worse. Ever since Im disappeared they treat it like confirmation. Saying she helped Rhiannon, and that’s why she fled.”

My eyes grow wide. “Do you think…Im figured something out, and Morin did something to her?”

“I don’t know,” she says voice cracking.

“Are you planning to confront Sitri about any of this? At least find out what he knows.”

“I almost did…the other night, but I just don’t want to say the wrong thing and never see you two again. I like having the two of you around. And he seems so scared, right? It’s like every time I’m around him, he’s warning me with his eyes.” I nod slowly in resigned understanding. She expels a breath. “Eventually, I’ll…talk to him about it.”

“You said he works for Morin. What does he do for her exactly?”

Her throat bobs with a swallow, and she uncorks the bottle to pour us another glass of wine. “People say a lot of things, Pandora. You can’t always believe them.”

“I’d like to know what they say.”

“They say he does her dirty work. That he’s her executioner.”

The weight of those words hangs heavy in the air. It’s not like he hasn’t admitted to me himself he’s a murderer. It’s not like I hadn’t seen him rip a man’s heart from his chest myself. I’d always suspected something…dark with how evasive he was about it. Still hearing it from Vera makes it all that much more real.

“They’re just rumors,” she says, yet the look we share suggests even if they’re only rumors, they’re not far off. “I should probably check on things real quick.” She grabs the pots of food and darts out the door.

The wine has effectively dimmed the dāemon to a dull pulse. Vera whips back into the kitchen with a sad smile. “I’m sorry I’m such a downer these days. Do you…want to make a cake?”

“I don’t know how,” I say sheepishly.

“Come on," she says, starting back toward the store rooms. I teeter on my feet a little as I rise, and she grins. “You have drank before, right?”

My shoulders shrink slightly. “Well…I drank at the wedding party.”

“That’s the only time?”

I consider lying, but I might as well tell the truth at this point. “I was never allowed to before.”

“Gods, it’s probably a good thing Sitri won’t be back tonight. I’m not sure how he’ll feel about me getting his wife drunk and spilling all of his secrets.”

I shove at her shoulder. “Don’t call me that.” She staggers slightly, and I raise a brow. “Not the only one I see.”