Page 66

We’re quiet as we shuffle through the hallways and down the stairs. I still feel slightly hollow, emptied out, like the air itself is pricking against my innermost cavities, as he leads me to the garden and down a path between the chaos of shrubbery and flowering plants. As soon as we’re hidden behind the tangle of greenery, he takes my hand in his and laces our fingers together. I freeze in my tracks, staring down at our conjoined hands.

“Is this okay?”

“You don’t have to do that,” I say, trying to pull my hand free. He grips it tighter.

“I know I don’t have to. I want to.”

“You do?”

He lets out a soft laugh. “Yes, unless you don’t want me to…?”

His eyes are genuinely probing. I look around the garden in paranoia. “Aren’t you worried someone will see us?”

For once, the man I know who’s always on guard, always checking every corner just shrugs. “There’s no one around.”

My fingers flex around his autonomously. He squeezes me back and I dip my head to curtain my flushing cheeks. He suddenly steps forward, mouth hovering just above my forehead as he pulls my hair back behind my ear. His voice is low, husky as he says, “You have a beautiful face, Pandora. I don’t know why you’re always trying to hide it.”

He tugs me along the winding path. The balcony smells only of sun-baked stone but down here it’s botanical and earthy. I inhale it deep into my lungs, doing a little hop and a skip between the deteriorating, grass-overtaken cobblestones. I didn’t realize how desperately I needed to be outside until he brought me out here.

When I look up he’s watching me, expression indecipherable. I loose a grin, not because I want to but because I can’t help myself. He huffs a breath out of his nostrils in amusement. I let out a hoarse squeak when something suddenly brushes against my legs.

A black cat with large emerald eyes pokes its head up with a soft meow. “Oh! Hello,” I murmur, reaching down to scratch it behind its ear when Sitri stomps at it with a savage yell, and it scurries away.

I’ve seen this man do plenty of offensive things, but that might…just take the cake for the rudest thing I’ve ever seen him do. “I wanted to pet that cat!”

“Don’t…don’t fraternize with the cats here,” he says sternly.

Don’t fraternize with the cats?

“Morin is particularly fond of altering petty criminals into small defenseless creatures. They’ll often feed her information in hopes she’ll reduce their sentences,” he says in a low voice.

“That was a person?” I whisper.

He shrugs. “It might’ve just been a cat but it’s impossible to tell.”

“I thought you said there wasn’t anyone out here.”

“Well, there’s no people…but yeah, maybe some cats.”

“Then we probably shouldn’t…” I start to tug my hand back and his clamps around mine in refusal.

When I look up his face is introspective. “I guess…I think it’s worth the risk…just this once.”

“Just this once,” I repeat.

We continue on. I reach out to trail my fingers across the petals of a large black flowering plant. “Touch that, and you’ll be hallucinating for over a day,” Sitri warns.

I yank my hand back in alarm. “Seriously?”

He laughs softly. “No, that one’s fine but that one over there really will do that and that’s one of the milder ones, so best not to touch anything.”

My eyes grow wide and round and he laughs. “Why are there such dangerous plants out here in the castle garden?”

“Just because it’s dangerous doesn’t mean it’s not worth preserving.” He bestows me with a pointed look, and I shoot a withering glance toward the sky.

Right. Like me.

Despite my annoyed display the words loosen something in my chest. Something I didn’t even realize was still screwed too tight. Just because it’s dangerous doesn’t mean it’s not worth preserving. Am I worth preserving? After everything I’ve done? It implies that I’m still of value. But what is about me that’s of value? Me or…if I’m to believe Div… my magic? The Great Rite flickers through my mind and I’m accosted by a series of sharp flashes of heat. Is that what this is about?

I’m still puzzling over that when I catch a glimpse of something buzzing above the foliage. I focus in on it and my vision suddenly hazes. I halt in my path, blinking rapidly. My vision doesn’t clear, everything a mess of blurred together colors.

“Oh, I should probably warn you that you can’t look directly at the sprites or they’ll blind you.”

“Too late!”

“Don’t worry. It’ll wear off in about five to ten minutes.”

My heart rate which had climbed rapidly slows back to a normal pace. “The cats are spies, the flowers will make you hallucinate and the sprites will blind you. Anything else I need to be aware of?”

“I think that pretty well covers it,” he says, laughing. “Come on. This isn’t what I wanted to show you anyways.” He tugs me forward and I stumble slightly.

“Here,” he demands when I stumble again. Pulling me in front of him, my stomach flutters chaotically as he wraps his arms around my chest from behind. The dāemon has slowed to a dull, steady thump in the background. I suck in a deep breath, inhaling the various humid, floral scents along with his as he steadily leads me forward.

“Wow, this is a really nice garden. Wish I could see it.”

He laughs softly, warm breaths coasting over the back of my head. “Should I describe it to you?” He grabs my jaw and tilts my head to the left. “On this side, we have…plants.” He tilts my head in the opposite direction. “And, this side, more plants in the plant variety.”

“You have a way with words.”

"If you really want to know, there’s Digitalis purpurea and angels' trumpet, some pokeweed.”

“Ugh, you might as well just call them plants.”

He laughs again the sound like a deep silky mahogany that swells in my chest. I savor it, stowing it away for dryer times.

He continues to lead my tottering form down the winding path and eventually comes to a stop. “This is what I wanted to show you.”

He unwraps his arms from around me but quickly finds my hand again, smoothing his thumb across my palm.

“Still blind?”

“Still blind,” I sigh, but then as if on cue, the world around me begins to take shape. “Oh!”

We’re in a large clearing. Decorating its center stands a billowing tree, its limbs split, tangled and twisting all the way where the trunk plunges into the ground. Above us, a lush violet curtain. Hundreds and hundreds of flowering blooms draping down to enclose us under a thick canopy above our heads.

“Wow,” I breathe.

“It's very old. They say one of the only trees to survive the Flood.” I take a few steps forward, marveling. He lets me loose and I drift closer to survey the tangled trunk and rub my fingers over the peeling bark.

“The story is that a God fell in love with a mortal woman. When she became ill and he couldn’t save her, he settled for turning her into this tree.”

“That’s awful,” I murmur.

“Thats one version anyways. The other is that she didn’t return his affection so he turned her into this tree as a punishment.”

I gape in horror and he laughs. “Actually that’s the awful one.”

“Yeah…I also prefer the former.”

“Looks perfect for climbing,” I say, gesturing to the tangled limbs.

“You would think that.”

“Look at it!”

He grins. “I can’t say I haven’t done it. When I was a kid.”

I try to envision a smaller, younger version of Sitri foraging through the limbs. “I bet you were a handful.”

“Actually, I’ve been told I was rather good for a child.” My brows shoot up in disbelief. “Horrible teenager though,” he admits.

“I think I got quite a bit worse as a teenager too.” My grin shifts into a grimace. “Maybe even worse as an adult.”

“I think I get worse each year.”

I lift a hand toward one of the draping clusters. “Can I?”

He nods and I trail my fingers over the velvety petals. Sitri walks over to lean against the trunk as he watches me explore our surroundings.

I walk around trailing my hands over the blooms and putting them all at a sway. This conversation feels light, easy and I want to keep it there. I wrack my brain for a topic that will accomplish that. “There’s something I’ve been wondering. What is magic anyways?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…I don’t know…what exactly…is it?”

His brows crumple. “It’s…” he trails off. “Well, I mean, what are you? What am I? It is us . Our…essence.”

I squint and he chuckles. “I don’t know. I’ve never really tried to explain it to anyone before. It’s kind of like trying to explain what a soul is. We all just kind of know. It’s…the part of you that can separate from you and interact with the material plane. Like…an extra sense.”

“The da—I mean, my magic—“ I correct quickly. “It doesn’t feel like me. It doesn’t feel like it's mine.”

“Hmm.” His expression contorts into that look I’ve grown to detest, puzzling, searching for clues as to what I am—like if he stares hard enough he’ll piece it together. I cast him a glare that doesn’t catch his notice. He doesn’t see me at all. This is the conversation I was meaning to avoid.

I almost turn away in frustration yet I pivot instead. I’ll turn his methods back on him. See how he feels under the scrutiny.

Light gleams in the green of his eyes, a sharp contrast to the violet all around him. His hair’s grown out slightly, curls draping a little further across his forehead than usual. He’s gotten some sun from whatever it is he does during the day, cheeks blooming with color, some new freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose and cheekbones.

Clothed in full black, I study his form. The shape of his shoulders, the place his pants hug his waist. Always emanating strength, sturdiness, and often times a posture that screams stay the fuck away from me. But right now it's open, receptive, shoulders relaxed and hands loose at his sides.

When our eyes meet again, he looks back at me. Except this time he sees me . Not the thing inside of me but me . He doesn’t look the least bit bothered by the scrutiny nor upset with me for all that’s happened. Quite the opposite, almost as if…his tongue flicks out across his bottom lip, leaving it glossy. His eyes trace up and down my form in a way that reminds me far too much of the way he’d looked at me at the Rite. My cheeks heat, and I quickly turn back to the view I’m supposed to be admiring as he shifts closer. “Thank you for showing this to me,” I murmur.

“I should’ve already shown it to you.”

“Maybe. But maybe I needed to see it now.” I trace my hand over the bark as he settles back down across one of the low-hanging tree limbs. He surveys the land around us and casually forms a series of shapes with his hand.

I watch him weave the patterns with a fluid, well practiced grace. “What are you doing?”

“Just making sure no one’s around.”

“Don’t you need to teach me the symbols or something?” I ask, holding up my hand in a gesture I’ve become all too familiar with.

He looks amused. “What does that one mean?”

I narrow a glare. “That’s the one that locks me.”

“Encompass,” he corrects.

“Encompass?” I question, repeating the symbol.

He draws his hand into the same motion. I feel his magic press around my shoulders, lightly at first and then harder, prohibiting my ability to move. “Because my magic is surrounding you in order to lock you in place.” He frees me and grins. “You got any more?”

“To bring something to you is like…encompass and this one?”

He nods. “Encompass and draw. But you should extend your fingers a little more."

I form it correctly before shaping another symbol. “This is the one…I think I’ve heard you call dispersing?”

He nods his agreement.

“This is the one you use to dry my hair?”

“Heat. That’s good.” I beam and he grins in return. After so many days of failure, receiving his praise feels like saturating sunshine. He pushes to a stand and takes my hand still forming the symbol. Uncurling my fingers, he flattens my palm and draws his thumb across it. My breath catches, the touch electric but then he smooths my hand back to my side. “But you don’t actually need to know these yet.”

The sunshine is vanquished immediately. My shoulders slump. “I don’t?”

“The symbols only mean something because we make them mean something. My mother refused to let me learn the symbols until I had an extended grasp of my magic. She believed it was a limiting way to learn, and I agree.”

My brow furrows. “You mean they don’t actually do anything?”

“You learn to speak before you learn your alphabet, yes?” I give a perfunctory nod. “So, I need you to speak to me, pet.”

I don’t know how. That’s the problem.

“The issue with the symbols is people start to rely on them too completely. They forget how to draw the appropriate magic without them and using them is showing your hand, literally. It is kind of a societal expectation you do use them, but if you’re ever in a situation—it’s important that you know how to draw your magic without them—discreetly.”

I let out a heavy exhale. “All I know how to do is destroy things.”

“Distend.” I shoot him a quizzical look. “It means your magic is expanding very quickly and that’s what causes things to—“ He makes an exploding motion with his hands.

My face pales as I recall what that looked like…with a person. “Did you start with distending?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “No, that would be quite horrifying if toddlers were going around distending things…especially at the level that you do.” My expression grows even more puzzled.

“Most magi, at least today, aren’t able to distend things at the level you do. They would simply push things back at the most.” His face turns inquisitive. “It almost feels like some sort of defense mechanism built into your psyche. Like a porcupine extending its quills,” he suggests, lifting a palm.

I shoot him a bland look. “I thought pet was bad, but I think I like porcupine even less.”

He laughs. “Still a pet. Just a prickly one.”

I roll my eyes with a resigned sigh, and he laughs again.

When I look up, he’s still grinning. There’s no sign of the cold detachment I’ve come to know over the last few weeks. I scrutinize him for another moment before blurting out, “It really doesn’t bother you?”

It takes him a moment to piece together what I’m asking. His lips flatten. “You mean what happened?”

“What I did. You’re really not… angry about it?”

“No. It was an accident.”

“But she was your aunt. She was the only person…that was even nice to me here.”

“Until she wasn’t,” he grumbles.

“Don’t you care?”

“Of course, I care. But she did this to herself, Pandora. I’m angry with her .”

“Why did she have to do that? Do you think… she really knew something about me? The soothsayer said so, too.” I bite at the inside of my lip, fingers twisting. “The touch of ruin, ” I quote.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” I ask hoarsely.

“Look for new reasons to hate yourself.”

“I’m not…” I argue.

“You’re so intent on believing the worst that your magic has literally become a method of self-destruction.”

“I have no control over it,” I snap, temper rising.

“I know you’re not doing it consciously, but…look, Delyah always had odd beliefs and convictions. My Mother’s line did have a penchant for foresight but people get way too caught up in what they believe in that stuff. What they believe is going to happen. They’re rarely ever right. It’s always open to a million different interpretations. It’s something Delyah and my mother went round and round about, actually.”

I pick at my nails, and his shadow falls over me as he steps closer.

“I promise you Delyah had no idea what the fuck she was talking about.” He snorts. “Or it would’ve been me she was trying to murder.”

My breath catches as he takes my face in his hands and tilts it up to face him, his gaze unwavering.

“You are good , Pandora.”

I start to shake my head, and he squeezes me still. “You are. You are so good and kind and fucking precious, and I would like to skin the people alive that made you believe otherwise.” He gives my head one small jerk. “Don’t you ever feel guilty for defending yourself against those that would tear your life away from you.”

The intensity is too much, too fierce, those words burning like acid in my chest. I shut my eyes, working a swallow over the lump in my throat and he lets me loose with a breath.

I look up the tree limbs, trying to regain my composure as I blink back the moisture in my eyes. It feels like emerging into another world under the thick canopy of flowering blooms. There’s a glimmer of movement in my periphery, and I follow it to the tiny winged shape buzzing through the limbs. It turns, and I catch one single glimpse of round black eyes before my vision hazes. “Shit!”

He chuckles. “You did it again, didn’t you?”

I rub at my eyes, but my vision doesn’t sharpen. “Why do they do that?”

“They’re shy.”

I groan. “How do you avoid it?”

“Years of practice.” I feel him loom closer before he laces our fingers together again. “I promise we’ll come back here sometime. We got kind of a late start tonight, but there’s one more thing I’d like to do before we go back.”

A deep, malaise settles over me at the thought of going back to his chambers now after I was starting to shed some of the weight that’s been holding me. “What is it?”

“Come on.” We only walk for a few minutes when the blurry colors around me darken, and he switches to leading me with his hands on my shoulders.

“Okay, take one more step, and then stop right there.” His hands shift around my shoulders as he rotates to my front. “Seriously, don’t move because you’re right on the ledge of a step.” He lifts his hands, and with that new information, I wobble dangerously. He hastens to place his hands back on my shoulders, laughing.

“Are you trying to set me up?”

“No…” he says with another laugh.

“Why do I not believe you?”

“I’m not.”

“Then why did you put me here!”’

“You are very short.” His voice is lower, softer as he shifts closer. “Which requires a little bit of creative thinking.”

My brows crumple. “What?”

“I was hoping I could kiss you.”