Page 43

I jolt when the bedroom door creaks open. Sitri sways, squinting puffy eyes in the doorway. Red lines indent his face where he was pressed up against the blankets. “Ah, I’m sorry if I woke you up,” I whisper.

“Dinner?” he asks, voice still thick with sleep.

“Sitri…you look half dead. I think you need to go back to sleep for twelve more hours.”

“M’ fine,” he mumbles. “Come on,” he says, swaggering toward the door.

I scramble to catch up with him, nearly falling over myself as I tug on my boots. He staggers down the hallway, almost exactly like the images of the dead come to life I’d just been reading about when I read about necromancy.

I jog to catch up with him. “Sitri?” I ask uncertainly. He grunts. “I’m not entirely sure you’re not sleepwalking.”

He pushes a palm against his face and growls. “Awake.”

“God, I think you need to learn how to take it easy, Sitri. You’re going to work yourself into an early grave.”

His bloodshot gaze flickers over my face and then further down, brows a hard line on his forehead. “You should eat more. Too skinny.”

It’s a simple comment. One that should not slice me as deep as it does. I let my hair fall like a curtain over my face to block his view. He must’ve picked up on my stupid reaction because he halts. When I turn back, he’s holding out a palm, bafflement in every sleepy blink. “Still pretty, though.”

I despise the way my chest lightens with those three words. “Nobody asked you. And I’m still not totally convinced you’re not sleepwalking.” He grunts. “Not very convincing.”

Another grunt. I laugh. “Don’t want Vera to think we’re not coming back,” he mumbles.

“Oh.”

“And I wanted to see you for a little while.”

“Oh,” I say, quieter this time.

“Don’t act so surprised,” he says, shoving at my shoulder. I stagger and run right into the door frame of the dining hall. Thirty heads turn and stare, and he quickly straightens me. “Sorry, I forget how small and fragile you are.”

Vera looks shocked as I saunter in while Sitri’s still loading an obnoxious amount of food onto his plate. I skip over to her with a grin. “Told you we’d be back.”

She stiffens as Sitri makes his way in, plates hovering in front of him as he rubs at his eyes. “I didn’t mean you had to wake him from the dead,” she whispers.

“He insisted.” She arches a brow, and I plop down on my stool next to Sitri as Vera finishes cleaning up for the night. Sitri seems a little more alive once he’s eaten. He apologizes to Vera, and Vera looks so happy she could burst. He turns around and starts forming a series of symbols with his hand.

“What are you doing?”

“Putting up a sound ward.”

“Why?”

“So I can talk to you without being overheard.”

I raise my brows, curiosity piqued.

“If you can put up sound wards…why don’t you always do that?”

“Because it can be seen when I put up sound wards, so I choose carefully. I was thinking about something,” he spouts as he turns back to me. “There are times when I leave but remain here in the castle. I know during those times, you’d greatly prefer to be here with Vera as opposed to being locked in my chambers.”

I grin, a dash of excitement blooming in my chest. “You’re going to let me?”

“There would need to be a way for you to alert me if…any trouble were to arise,” he says carefully.

“You have such a way?”

He shrugs a single shoulder. The movement is too casual, rousing my suspicions. “You would have to let me mark you.”

My throat dries. “Mark me? Like the ones you have on your back?” He nods. “You want to put…magic on me?” I seek out Vera, hoping she’ll aid me in refuting him however she extends a hopeful nod.

He frowns. He wasn’t expecting my hesitancy. “It would be to your benefit. And it’s the only way I would feel comfortable leaving you unprotected. I can’t literally bar people from coming in here,” he says, looking back toward the door. “Or I would.”

I didn’t doubt that. “I don’t know….”

“Don’t trust me?” he asks, cocking his head.

I shift in my seat. I don’t have a good reason to deny him, but the last time someone put magic in me when the Soothsayer had read my palm, the dāemon responded to that. As well as during our wedding ceremony. Things are good here right now. I can’t risk exposure. Can’t risk being the cursed one again. “Well, I don’t even know what it entails.”

“The one that will be most useful in this scenario will alert me when you’re…in danger. It’s similar to how the triquetra works,” he says, gesturing to the backs of his hands.

“But the triquetra is bound with blood magic,” Vera interjects.

Sitri shifts his attention to the table. “Right…as this would be.”

“Isn’t that… illegal?”

“It’s not exactly legal per se, but it's never stopped me before…” His eyes narrow. “How do you know it’s not legal?”

I shrug my shoulders. “Research.”

“Hmm.”

“Doesn’t that make it…bad?”

“No magic is good or bad. It’s just magic. The only good or bad thing is in the intention.”

“Really? Anthropophagic magic isn’t bad?”

“Well, I mean… you could argue that specific magic is pretty bad because you literally have to be eating someone to be performing it. And, generally, eating people isn’t a hunky dory kind of thing, but you know…”

My brows shoot up my forehead and he sighs. “Blood magic isn’t illegal because it’s bad…it’s illegal because it cannot be tracked. It’s really not that big of a deal, but I would like to put a few more protection charms on you as well.”

I glance toward Vera, who appears annoyingly hopeful. “Do you have any?”

Her smile quickly fades. “I have one—the triskelion. I’m assuming this is one you have, too?”

He nods. I don’t miss the grim look that passes between them.

“The triskelion is one I would place on you, as well.”

Vera’s lips part. “You’re going to put that one on her?”

“Yes…” He sends me a sideways glance. “If she will allow me, that is.”

I turn questioning eyes on Vera.

“She’s surprised because the triskelion is usually placed by parents to a child,” Sitri interjects.

“It’s not just that, Sitri,” Vera chimes.

He directs an annoyed look her way that seems to say shut up, you’re not helping my case. His expression clears before he turns back to me. “It’s just a protection charm. It gives good luck.”

My eyes narrow. “What aren’t you telling me?”

He sighs, tossing Vera another brisk look. She lifts her chin in challenge. “All magic comes at a cost. This would take some of my luck and gift it to you.”

Surprise ripples through me. “You want to give me…your luck? How can you tell something like that even works? Sounds like bullshit.”

“It works. It’s almost uncanny how well it can work,” he says, his voice low, as he and Vera share another grave moment.

When Vera regards me again , she appears almost smug, and I interpret that into a see what he’s willing to do for you?

I scrub at my face with a groan, feeling slightly outnumbered. “The triquetra will signal to me when you are in danger, the triskelion for luck, and…I’ll invoke the protection of the triple goddess. That’s it,” he says, slapping his hands against his thighs.

Vera’s eyes grow round and wide, jaw hanging slack for the second time.

“Vera,” Sitri hisses, no longer trying to hide his irritation. “You are not helping.”

“Sorry, I…I’m surprised, is all.”

“You’re making it seem like a much bigger deal than it is,” he hisses.

“Well, of course, it’s a big deal! You’re minimizing it.”

“I’m not. But I know she’s never going to agree if you keep acting like I’m giving her my left fucking nut.” Vera muffles a laugh under her hand. “I thought you would help me convince her—that’s why I put up the sound ward so I could have this conversation here.”

“She should know the weight of what you’re giving her, Sitri.”

He sends her a long, hard stare before he finally turns back to me. “Invoking the protection of the triple goddess is something I, or other descendants of the Horned God, can gift only once.” I raise my brows.

“And it’s usually reserved for Queens,” Vera blurts out. “There’s a ceremony for it and everything.”

Sitri purses his lips. “It’s not like I’ll ever be King anyway. And no one will ever need it more than you.”

I shift uncomfortably in my stool, annoyed by the blood that’s shifting up to my cheeks. “Maybe you should think about it for a while…”

“I wouldn’t have brought it up if I hadn’t thought about it,” he retorts. “I’ve been thinking about it since the Ettin Woods.”

“But what if you change your mind?”

“I’m not going to change my mind. No one will ever need it more than you do.”

“But what if you take a second wife someday and decide you’d rather give it to her?”

“I’m not taking a second wife,” he snaps.

“You can’t really know that though…” I say quietly.

“I’m not taking a fucking second wife,” he reiterates, irritation giving rise to full-bred anger. “I can and do know that.”

I suck in a sharp breath, shifting my attention down to the table, unable to find any more angles to argue with. The last time someone discovered the dāemon, it cost me years of torture, nearly my life. Maybe if I drown it in alcohol, I can dull it…decrease my chances. “ Pandora. ”

I flinch. There he is, brandishing my name like a serrated knife that saws straight through my shields and down to my molten middle that pulsates in surprise, so unused to being exposed to anything…or anyone. “Why are you so against this?”

“You know I don’t like magic on me,” I mutter, but it’s a feeble excuse.

“This will take mere minutes,” he says, voice softening. “There are no ulterior motives. Even with me acting as your guard dog in this place, I am not infallible. Especially…now. Neither are my chambers. I would like to do everything I can to prevent any threats that might arise, and…it would be an honor if you would allow me to mark you.”

I force a thick swallow. Now he’s the one making it sound very…intense. “Alright,” I rasp out.

“Okay?” A smile tugs at his mouth, and his subsequent enthusiasm feels like a dire mistake.

“Yes, but please keep your left nut to yourself.”

“Are you sure because—“

I cut him off with a snarl, and he laughs heartily. Vera is pleased. I send her a meaningful glare. She only beams.

“I want to know well beforehand,” I say quickly. “When…?”

“Not tonight. Sometime later this week.”

We linger a while longer. I think Sitri’s trying to give me an adequate amount of time outside of his chambers. Vera’s animatedly telling me a story about a time Kobold nearly flooded the kitchens when Sitri pushes a grape toward my mouth.

I take it distractedly to get him off my back. He presses another one in, and this time, his thumb brushes against my bottom lip, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. Heat washes over me, and when I glance over, he’s a little too pleased. “What are you…” It’s only when Vera arches a brow that it dawns on me. A memory of him proudly declaring I’ll be eating from his hand.

My face twists, but it doesn’t stop him from trying to feed me a third grape. “You…motherfucker,” I snarl. Reaching out like I’m going to take the grape from his hand, I smash it against his fingers. He only smirks, a satisfied gleam in his eye as he shakes the smashed bits of fruit and juice onto the floor. “That did not take nearly as long as I expected it to,” he says smugly.

“How did—I was—you—“ I growl, and his shoulders shake with laughter. “I was distracted!”

“Mhm,” he says happily, it still very much a count in his book.

I kick at the leg of his stool, and his smile promptly fades as he starts to tip back. He catches himself against the counter before the stool slides out from underneath him. Jumping out of my stool, I drag it noisily across the tile floor. Scooting it as far away from him as possible as I glare daggers into the side of his head. He flashes me his teeth. Vera’s eyes flicker back and forth between the two of us. “Should I…ask?”

Sitri draws a long sip before saying, “I think I may have succeeded in taming her far sooner than I thought possible. Against all odds.”

“I’m not your pet, and the next time you try to feed me, I’ll bite your goddamn fingers off.”

His head snaps in my direction, eyes still gleaming. “Giving me so much to look forward to, pet.”

The blood beats at my face mercilessly, and I turn my head. Anything I say sure to be used against me. Vera keeps relaying those see, I told you he likes you looks, and I growl again, only to shortly realize my angry grunts are doing nothing for my whole I’m not a pet argument. I spend the rest of our time in the kitchens with my mouth clamped shut so it’s unable to betray me in either eating or speaking.