Page 18

Chapter Eighteen

I waited in the white chair outside Zephin’s Clay’s office; the space surrounded by immaculate plants on white shelves. My knitting was in my lap, hands busy, mind wandering. I had the exposé neatly in the file on my computer after I’d gone over it diligently the last few days. It was the subject of my article that occupied my mind.

Things hadn’t been awkward back at the pool house, mostly because I never saw the senator. He was busy with work, all the different kinds of work he did, and I understood that, really, but at the same time, it was strange not to see him at least twelve hours a day filled with torture and hugs. I had a few apartments to go look at once my big article was finished, but I wasn’t excited about it, not when I already felt the lack of Cross so poignantly.

“Delphi, Mr. Clay will see you now,” his lovely elegant Elven secretary said with a soft smile.

“Thank you.” I smiled back at her and stood, tucking my knitting away and picking up my computer bag. “Thank you for seeing me,” I said once I entered the large office, the theme modern, but the empty space broken up by a few pieces of priceless art. It was interesting that Clay was such a forward-thinking elf instead of like Cross, with his traditional paintings in his classic house.

Clay stood and came towards me, smiling and holding out his hands. “Miss Era. It is such a pleasure to see you. I never got a chance to talk with you at the wedding. How is Bram liking the married life? It seems just yesterday he was crawling around in the mud eating bugs.”

I laughed and shook my head as I let him take my hands. He pulled me into a hug that ended with a kiss to both my cheeks, a cool brush of his lips that felt like water and peace.

I was surprised by the kisses. Although they were nothing to a gnome, they were positively shocking to an elf. I stared up at him, confused. The last time I’d hugged him was after I killed the wrong wolf. I came to ask him to give me a job, trying so hard to look civilized in my stolen clothing. When he’d agreed to find a place for me at his Singsong paper, I’d hugged him spontaneously. He’d been stiff and horrified, breaking out of my grasp as soon as possible.

This time, he pulled back with a slight twitch of his nose. “You’ve already gotten back to work, taking the responsibilities of others?” He tsked. “You should do something about the scent before you see the senator. His senses are much sharper than mine.”

It was my turn to step out of his arms, drowning beneath a vast wave of embarrassment. I’d made cookies every morning for three days and hadn’t channeled my werewolf once. And I still smelled like a wolf? Why didn’t Cross say anything? “I’ll be sure to take a big bubble bath before I see him. Speaking of, I have the exposé on Senator Silverton that you asked for.”

He raised a brow, tilting his head slightly. “Indeed? Are you certain that’s wise? It might jeopardize your position with him.”

I studied him while the need to rub cookies all over my body tangled with my confusion about what kind of position he thought I had with the senator. “It seems like the right step to take for my career,” I finally said. It’s what anyone else would have done.

“Yes, but the Senator won’t appreciate you using him for your advancement, unless he intends to use you in return. Perhaps your personal position is more valuable than your career.”

My stomach twisted. More humiliation. What personal position would a gnomish-elf have with a senator, pureblood elf like Cross? Not a respectable one, that’s for sure. I laughed lightly and turned to look out of his beautiful window, looking out over the golden wall and the river. It was a beautiful view. “I see. You think that I’m too gullible to take advantage of my situation? I’m not. Senator Silverton is perfectly capable of handling my article and his career, like I am capable of handling mine.”

He laughed, melodious and mellow, before he gestured me to the chair across from him. “And you are as grown as Bram. I’m proud of you. To think how far you’ve come from the shy little mouse who asked me for a job, to this.” He nodded at me and took a seat while I took mine.

“Well, it’s only a society piece, but it’s going to get a lot of interest. Shall I forward it to you?”

“Please. I hope you don’t mind sitting here while I go over it.”

“Of course not. I brought my knitting.”

He smiled. “Yes, you always have your knitting.”

I sat there with doubts plaguing me as he went through my article. It didn’t take him long, and I didn’t bother getting out my knitting, not when I wanted to see his expression as he read my piece. Then again, he was an elf, and the most emotion he showed was that he raised a silver brow once he was done. “Interesting angle. I’m not sure who benefits from the message that Senator Silverton is secretly a gnome at heart.” His gaze was calculated, cool, as an elf should be, but it made me feel defensive, like my stupid exposé wasn’t up to the standards of real reporters.

I raised my chin. “Well, my mother will like it.”

He smiled slightly. “She’d like anything if she thought there was any chance he’d marry you. You made him look approachable, trustworthy, and genuine. You certainly do have talent if you were able to turn someone like the Senator into that.”

“He’s always been perfectly respectable.”

“And now he’s approachable. No, beyond approachable, absolutely trustworthy, and that’s all you. So that’s what he’s getting out of the situation. It’s an equal trade.”

“You’re very cynical, Mr. Clay.”

“I am, Miss Era. As a personal friend, I feel the need to inform you about the senator’s dramatic backstory.”

I blinked at him. Was he going to tell me that he was secretly the head of the House of Mercy? What then? Would I have to kill him? No, I’d just report him to Cross and Henrick would do it. No, I’d kill him better and faster. Henrick would have too much fun with Clay. He’d never see me coming and wouldn’t feel a thing.

I smiled brightly. “You make it sound so exciting. Do tell.” I gripped my bag and hoped that he wouldn’t. I was bound to tell Cross anything that would put his guild in danger.

“His father is the Lord of the Night Court in elfland. That doesn’t mean much to you, since your father left all his ties with nobility—of which he had very few—when he left. But as heir of the Night Court, our senator has obligations which he cannot escape, no matter how far he runs. He will be bound to a full-blooded noble Elven female and have the next heir. It is ingrained in his blood, in his nature. Your mother may consider the senator an eligible match, but it isn’t possible. Perhaps he himself is unaware of the obligations he can’t escape. They have allowed him his freedom for longer than I would have expected. He may think that he can?—”

I cut him off before I died of embarrassment. “I’m not interested in marrying the senator. Can you imagine me, a senator’s wife? I’m just enjoying the company of a very handsome man while I get a story out of him that will benefit my career. It’s already lasted longer than I expected. I have no regrets, no expectations, and no interest in settling down to be a darling little wife, however adorable I am.”

He laughed and gave me a warm smile that I’d never seen on his Elven face. It made him much more handsome than ninety-eight percent of the men in my world, lighting up his eyes so you could see the green, and giving him a softness that his chiseled features rarely had. “Far more than that, my dear Miss Era. You have your mother’s warmth. It doesn’t seem like much to some, but it brought your father back to life, gave him his sanity, made it possible for him to find happiness in a world that has so much darkness. Combined with your Elven grace, you are irresistible.”

I went very still while I studied my father’s old friend. That was as clear a declaration of interest as elves made. It was much clearer than the usual subtlety, but he must think I was too gnomish to understand elvish manners. He was probably right. I finally broke out in a light laugh. “Mr. Clay, you are too kind. I can’t tell you how much I’ve appreciated you keeping my job secure all these years.” Yes. Work. Let’s focus on work.

He waved a hand dismissively. “You’re good at what you do. If you wanted to run the paper, or a television broadcast network, I would be delighted to help you learn what you need to know.”

Oh. My. Elf. Now that I was the Senator’s mistress, happily selling my body and soul for favors, Mr. Clay was eager to get in line. Could I slap him? No. You don’t slap elves, you’d just cut your hand on their sharp cheekbones. Also, I was pretending to be a worldly reporter who knew how to take what she wanted without any regrets or misgivings. I had so many misgivings. All of them.

Mr. Clay was powerful, in the field I’d chosen, and stunning if you like ageless sculptures of perfection.

“You’re too kind. I’d better get back to work.”

He held out his hand to shake. Again.

I hesitated before I took it in a cool grip of an elf who had no idea how to hold hands.

He covered our hands with his and smiled warmly. “Thank you for coming in. I’m proud of you, Miss Era. I hope you can make it to the zoo masquerade tomorrow. You are the inspiration for it.”

Because I was so wild. Or maybe that was this surreal encounter. I let him usher me out of the office, feeling like I’d been hit by a hurricane.

When I got home, I should have done something useful, but instead I lay on the floor in the living room off the kitchen and played with Lynx. She was getting so leggy. We basically ate snacks together. What a strange conversation. He was an old family friend, but how well could anyone really know someone who had lived hundreds of years? Maybe I should call my father to ask about him. I wouldn’t ever consider dating him. However he looked at me, to me, he’d always be my father’s friend, an aloof elf who I owed gratitude for giving me a job when I was uneducated, traumatized, and frankly, a mess, but definitely not romantic material. And he’d offered to help me climb all the way to the top. As if I hadn’t turned down every opportunity for advancement for the past thirteen years.

“Manny, I’m making a soup with this bone my mom sent home with me. If I don’t make it, she’s going to come here and make it herself. Sorry to invade your kitchen, but it’s better than more gnomes.” I looked around the kitchen, and no sign of the ogre, so I started a soup with the nice enormous bone that would build up my blood. My mother texted me recipes every day, and I had to send her pictures of what I was eating, or she probably really would invade Singsong City, rampant werewolves or not.

I checked Cross’s number while I had my phone out and then texted him before I could change my mind.

Will you be home for dinner tonight?

It took three minutes for him to answer. “I am home. I was in the library,” he said, coming in behind me.

I whirled around and felt all flustered and idiotic for no good reason. Maybe because he was a startlingly handsome elf, looking like moonlight pouring over a field of violets. “Oh. That’s nice. Your exposé is going to come out tonight on tv. I thought you’d like to watch it while eating. It’s a nourishing soup. With a bone. Is that not vegetable-based enough for you?”

He smiled, but it was a cool, aloof, Elven smile. Good. I’d had enough weirdly warm smiles for the day. “The night court eats meat. I trust that your article will be as brilliant as always.”

“It will be more brilliant than usual, considering the subject I had to work with.” I gestured at him and then realized how flirty that would have been for an elf. Good thing I was a triad of awkwardness instead.

“Mm.” He came over to me and started helping me with dinner, glancing at my recipe once or twice as he peeled carrots and chopped onions. I also did things, but I was distracted by him being in the kitchen, taking up space, so much space that I seemed to bump into him every time I turned around. I’d gotten so used to being with him all the time, and then not seeing him for three days, now it was weird to have him so close, particularly after Clay reminded me how much I stank like a werewolf, and how much better Cross’s senses were than his.

It would be better when I wasn’t living in his pool house, expecting to see him every day. Except that would also be worse.

“Cross,” I said, pausing next to him while he leaned against the counter, looking in the soup pot like it was missing something.

“Mm,” he said, giving me a glance with those violet eyes that made my knees weak.

What was wrong with me? I licked my lips. “Clay was weird today.”

He straightened up, face expressionless, but he was giving me his full attention. “Do you have something to report?”

Oh. This was his ‘head of the house of Mercy, I’m ready to kill someone’ face. “He knows that you’re an heir to the night court. I was thinking, he’s always been there when I had my beast come out. You don’t think it’s him, do you?”

“Zephin Clay the beast who infected you?” He frowned in thought. “If you’re suspicious of him, why have you been hugging him?”

How in the world did he know that? “What?”

“You smell like him.”

I edged away from him. “You can smell a tiny bit of elf through all the revolting wolf?”

“I like the scent of your beast. I’m a night elf. I’m not delicate like Clay. It’s possible he’s a beast, but it doesn’t seem to suit his nature. I could see him pulling strings behind the curtain as a member of Lynx much more quickly than a beast that enjoyed blood and violence. Perhaps you hugged him to try to smell his beast.”

I shook my head. “I didn’t hug him. He hugged me. It was so awkward. Do you think I should take him up on it? I mean, date him after we break up so that I can investigate him more closely? No, it’s not possible that he’s actually interested in me. Maybe he has a hunch about who you are and wants to use me to get to the truth. That makes much more sense.”

He studied me thoughtfully. “You are truly unaware of Zephin Clay’s personal interest in you? Even Leticia Marin is aware of it. He decided to do a masquerade ball based on your article. He touches you in public, and now hugging in private?” He tsked. “And he knows that we’re dating. That’s not very considerate of him. Does he want me to retaliate?”

I studied him, at the frown that was so heavy. He was an assassin. “How would you retaliate?” I asked, feeling nervous for my old family friend.

He gave me a polite smile. “The senator would give him a set-down in public. I’d call him on his inappropriate advances to one whom he owes protection, and then subtly infer that he doesn’t deserve you after using your skills for so long without proper pay raises. I hope that when you go back to work, you renegotiate your contract. I’d love to help you. I’m a very good lawyer, you know.”

“The senator is too kind.” I put my hand on his arm, not thinking it through until the actual contact sent a bolt of awareness through me. My throat got tight and weird as I quickly pulled away from him. “We actually need to discuss our public break-up. I hope we can make it as amicable as possible, because I’d like to be friends in the future.”

His frown disappeared, face absolutely impassive. “I don’t have friends.”

I elbowed him. “Libby’s your friend. Why can’t I be? I know. It’s my seductive ways that you elves can’t resist. How did Zephin say it? ‘The warmth of a gnome combined with the grace of the elf is irresistible.’ I’m paraphrasing. Seriously though, I’m safely bound to you, so why can’t we be friends?”

He turned to me, looking over my face like he was searching for my nose. The way he looked at my mouth made it tingle and my whole body hit high alert. “Don’t you think it would be strange if we broke up so soon after the exposé? People might say that you used our relationship to get a story before you moved on to the media mogul.”

I snorted. “No one would ever think I dumped you. It’s absurd. People would say that I published the story after we were already on our way out. And I’m not moving on to the media mogul unless you somehow convince me that it’s life-or-death, also that I don’t have to kill him, because I’m not comfortable killing an old family friend, although if it’s between me and Henrick, it should be me because I’m…”

He wrapped me in his arms and pulled me against his chest until my head rested on his rapidly beating heart. “I haven’t hugged you for three days. My apologies, Miss Era. I’ve been neglecting my responsibilities.”

I gulped and tried not to cling to him too obviously. “You’ve been busy. Also, you don’t have to worry about it. I’m fine without hugs.”

“Then I’m not fine without hugging you. It must be your irresistible warmth and grace. Did he actually say such a forward thing to someone supposedly dating someone else? I’m shocked.”

“Mm.” I smiled against his heart. My stress melted out of me like it had never existed. “Elves are too easily shocked.”

“Most likely.”

“You weren’t very shocked the first time you saw my beast, though.”

“I was, though. I expected something dainty and adorable to match your wolf, but that beast was at the war beast level.”

That’s right. He’d been the first person to ever see my beast, including me. He remembered every second of torture, but he still hadn’t ever apologized. I dropped my arms and pulled away until he released me and I was left with only the lingering warmth he’d given me. He was much warmer than I was, at least literally.

The timer on my phone went off. Right! The news broadcast. I grabbed his hand, dragging him into the living room so we could watch my exposé unfold. I gestured at the large tv I didn’t know how to operate. “Turn it on, please.”

It came on like it was voice activated.

“Oh.” I glanced at him, and he smiled at me. “Um. Channel four, please.”

It switched channels and there was the theme song for the national broadcast station. I grabbed his hand and tugged him with me to the couch, holding it with both of mine, too tight, too hard, but unwilling to let go.

“Is it that bad?” he murmured, squeezing my hand back. “I’d better call Henrick.”

“I’m sure it’s fine. I’m just nervous. It’s my first exposé!” I kept staring at the screen while the lovely reporter started talking about celebrity news. Finally, the first picture popped up. The senator was sitting on the floor in a pile of yarn, knitting terribly. I was leaning over his shoulder, fixing his hands, and he was smiling. Not a cool elven smile, but a genuinely delighted smile as he tried to hold his needles right and not tangle the yarn.

The article was done well by one of the most charming news anchors in the world. She was good, delivering the story of the wonderfully warm senator and his recently affianced…

“What did she say?” I asked, grabbing his arm in a death grip and squinting at the screen.

“You’re my fiancé? That’s unexpected.” He was also frowning, but at me instead of the screen.

“Why would she say that? That’s not what I wrote.”

“Well, it makes it more sensational, I suppose.”

“But when my wolf comes out, you’ll have to be on the girlfriend after the girlfriend after me. If we’re engaged, that makes it more difficult to break things off cleanly so we can remain good friends afterwards.”

He studied me for a long moment, then reached out and brushed my hair away from my face. “I’ll have Henrick fix it.”

“But she’s a professional. She wouldn’t make a mistake like that unless…”

Zephin Clay. But why would he change that detail, and nothing else? Didn’t he want to date me? Then why would he link me more tightly to the senator? Or maybe he was a diabolical monster who transformed into a beast and murdered random baseball players for the fun of it.

I got up and rubbed my forehead, which was throbbing miserably. “I need to go to bed.”

“You should eat first.”

I shook my head and gave him a wan smile. “I don’t have an appetite anymore. I’ll have some tomorrow. Do you mind putting it away for me?”

He frowned as he studied me until he finally gave me a slight smile and a gracious nod. “Not at all. Rest well, Delphinia.”

I woke up from the dream with a pounding heart, sweaty limbs tangled in my sheets. The dream was so vivid and intense, the pain, the humiliation, being this horrible out-of-control monster in a cage, injected with the poison that ripped me apart over and over again. He held me tight when things got truly unbearable. He kept me alive with his affection more than anything. I feared and hated him, but I needed him.

I didn’t want to see Cross. The thought of it made me sick, terrified, but I needed to see him more than I needed to breathe. My whole body and soul ached with the need for him. When I was little, I had horrible nightmares about the monsters in the woods coming for me. My dad would read to me his big botany book until I calmed down. Cross was an elf and could read to me like my father. That logic clicked. I could ask him to read to me, to be the researcher elf.

I got up, wrapped my bright knitted blanket around my shoulders and left the pool house. The night cast strange shadows on the water, turning it into a silver oasis, while the wind sent the leaves skittering above me.

Every step was a struggle. My skin kept shivering and shifting, triggered by the fear, the memories of pain, and the aching need for Cross’s arms around me to make everything all better. The backdoor was unlocked, the handle turning easily in my hand, but the hall was long, the house dark and still. He was sleeping. I shouldn’t disturb him, not when he’d had to suffer the humiliation of my family so recently, not to mention the unexpected engagement, but I needed him to chase away the fear, to be the person he was instead of the monster he’d been. I needed him now, like I’d needed him in the cage, to hold me and keep me through another endless night. I would die without him. The wolf in the back of my brain whimpered from the aching. It hurt so much.

I went up the stairs and got to the door of his bedroom, tracking it by scent. He smelled of woods, books, and danger laced with vanilla yogurt. Was he eating in bed? How shockingly un-elven. I stood there for a long time while the fear and need gnawed at me. Everything that terrified me but that I still desperately needed was on the other side of that solid oak door.

I stood there for a long time, the aching coming up against a wall of Elven reserve. An elf didn’t interrupt someone’s rest. My feet got icy, my fingers stiff curled around the knob when it turned and there was Cross, standing in shadows my wolf eyes could pick apart easily enough. He’d been sleeping. I could smell sleep heavy on him, but when he saw me, his eyes cleared as he came fully awake.

“Delphinia.” His low voice sent a shock of relief and pain through me. He was everything I’d been aching for, but also everything I hated. He was everything.

I almost sobbed, because I wasn’t all right, but at the same time, there wasn’t anything real that could get me here. I pressed my lips together for a moment while I willed my racing heart to calm. “I had a dream from that time before. I shouldn’t have woken you up, but I wondered if you could do me a favor.” My voice was trembling, weak.

“Anything. You dreamed about…” His brow furrowed. He wasn’t sure if mentioning details would be worse or better.

It would be worse. I spoke quickly, my words tripping over each other from my nerves. I was facing my old enemy, but he was also someone I could trust. “My father used to read to me stories when I couldn’t sleep. The woods of Elysia was his favorite. Do you have it?”

His brows rose. “The woods of Elysia isn’t a storybook. It’s a botanical guide. I suppose that would put anyone to sleep. You’d like me to read to you?” he asked, sounding uncertain.

“Is that too familiar?” Of course it was.

He shook his head and stepped out of his bedroom, closing the door behind him. “Not at all.” Which was a well-mannered lie, but the whole world thought that we were engaged, so what could be too familiar after that?

We walked to the library slowly, me clutching my knitted blanket, him keeping pace with me, both of us comfortable in the darkness only interrupted by the silver gleam cast by the moon over the hall runner.

In the library, he went to the fireplace, lit the kindling, then went to the wingback chair before he hesitated. I bumped into his broad back and almost lost my grip on my blanket.

He turned to look at me, then took the book from the shelf and went back to a wingback near the fireplace. There was another one beside it, smaller, my size.

He sat down and I climbed on his lap. He stiffened up, shocked, but the fear was gnawing on me too much to care. He’d said ‘anything.’ For a moment we sat like that, him stiff and hard, but eventually he relaxed, turned on the lamp, opened his book, and started reading.

His voice and the familiar Elven words pushed back the fear enough that I could analyze it. It wasn’t the dream that had scared me so much, but the fear that had triggered the dream. There were spells like that, spells that would paralyze the victim with fear. I slowly started to relax as he described the mushrooms found in the ash tree, the bolete, dark-skinned and smoky flavored.

I shifted on his lap to get more comfortable, fitting my head into the crook between his neck and shoulder, and slowly felt warm, safe and content.

I was drowsing off when the memory stole my breath. It was so real, so intense. I was in the cage, my cheek against the metal floor. It smelled so bad, like bodily fluids and madness. My back’s skin kept tearing apart while my bones shifted, poking through the gaping wounds that never healed entirely. It hurt so much. I’d been there for an eternity, hurting more than you could hurt without dying, but he kept me alive.

I whimpered as he turned me over with his careful hands, the mask he wore with its glinting eye pieces, glinting like the needle in his hand.

No. I blinked the memory away. I was in Cross’s library. I wasn’t in the cage anymore. I didn’t have to hurt and struggle with my wolf. All of that was over. Except that Cross hadn’t apologized for it.

A dart of pain went through my chest while anger stirred deep in my heart, in the shadowy recesses where the pain still lingered. The elf still suffered from that betrayal. The night bloomed into song, a melody of violence and fierce anger. Justice needed to be done. He had to suffer like I suffered.

A seed on the windowsill outside the library burst open, threadlike roots growing soundlessly towards the seam at the bottom of the glass. The song of anger danced in my heart as that seedling grew, slipping beneath the window, breaking metal locks until it rose, and more roots spilled into the room, spreading across the floor towards the chair Cross sat in, his back to the window, his attention on the book and on me.

I took a breath and was back in the cage, back in that moment when he carefully turned me over, barely touching those gaping wounds and shifting bones, but even his gentle touch was agonizing. I looked up at him, at the needle in his hand. It was as long as his forearm. It looked like death. Was he finally going to give me the death I’d pleaded for until I had no words, no voice, no will?

He placed the tip of the needle over my heart as he looked down at me. I tried to smile. Finally. He was giving me death.

In the library, the roots pierced deep into the floor, soundless, while the branches spread, wrapping the chair while roots pierced through the fabric, spreading through the wooden frame until it was there, against his back, over his heart.

The past and the present became one. He shoved the needle deep in my chest while I speared through the chair with the living stake, through his back ribs, shattering them before pushing deep into his chest, into the pulsing heart that was so warm, so strong. Agony. My scream mingled with his as that needle flooded my system with more poison that would keep me alive, agony that never ended.

The past flickered out, and I was back in the library. Cross’s mouth opened and blood spilled down his chin as he looked at me with those fathomless indigo eyes. I hurt so much. We hurt together.

I whispered, “Why aren’t you sorry you hurt me? I keep waiting for the words that will heal the hurt you left in my heart, but you never say them.” I put my hand against his chest and felt the sharp prick of the branch I’d staked him with. It was waiting for my will to continue growing, breaking his heart into pieces like he’d broken me.

He coughed, swallowed down blood, then touched my face with gracefully powerful fingers. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but you deserve peace. I’m so sorry. From the first moment I heard your song, you’ve had my heart. I kept you alive because I couldn’t kill you, because I love you.” He coughed and choked while his sweet blood filled the air. “A night elf’s love is always poison.” His eyes grew dim, unfocused, dark lashes fluttering as he struggled to keep them open.

He was dying? He wasn’t allowed to die! I swallowed down the pain, the memories that kept twining around me, dragging me into madness and hatred. He’d said he was sorry. And I’d made him suffer, as justice demanded.

I pressed my lips to his while I pushed the tip of the living stake back, slowly so I could knit together the fabric of his heart as it retreated. I kissed him as slowly, agonizingly, the branch slid out of his flesh, coated liberally in his sweet blood. The scent of blood was heady to my wolf, but worrying, like his head lolling against the chair’s wing. His heart beat slow, weak, like he didn’t want to struggle for life any more than I did.

I growled low in my throat and stood, shifting into the beast. I picked him up and carried him to his bed. So much blood. I ripped off his shirt and licked his skin until it was pearly perfect. He was so pale. So weak.

What had I done?

My wolf melted into me, and I crumpled onto the floor, the vestiges of the madness retreating. I trembled so hard as I curled up in a ball on Cross’s bedroom floor. I’d stabbed him in the back, and he’d let me. He hadn’t struggled, but he must have heard the song. He must have felt my rage.

I scrubbed my face with my hands to get off the tears, but stopped because they were sticky with so much blood. Tears and blood. That should be the name of a song. He’d let me kill him. Why would he do that?

Love. He’d said love. Maybe he’d also been mad. I started hyperventilating. Losing control was out of the question. The last time I’d lost control during Bram’s wedding, I should have realized that something was going on with me, something that I needed to fix. Cross had resources. He could get me the help he needed before I went mad again. Why did he let me hurt him? Why wouldn’t he stop me? I could have gone on a rampage, my rage fueling my beast as I slaughtered innocents. Instead, I’d targeted Cross, the one I hated.

One thing was very certain. I couldn’t afford to hate anyone. That was the weakness that let in the destructive monster. The elf. We were monsters all of us. And we weren’t going to let him die any more than he let me.

I pulled myself up the side of the bed and then flopped over on the mattress, my limbs as weak as the rest of me. I put my cheek on his chest over his heart and started singing in my croaky, tear-choked voice, the song of healing. I wove the gnome coziness magic over that, through that, summoning peace and tranquility, forgiveness and joy. He’d said sorry. I couldn’t afford to hate him anymore. Of course, I couldn’t love him, either. My triad was so strong. Look at that elf summoning nature to accomplish her vengeance, while the beast waited patiently to carry him away when she was finished. The elf was the scariest. I was completely out of control, every single piece of me.

My tears washed his chest clean while I sang until his breathing steadied, his heart beat surely, and I was more exhausted than I’d ever been in my life. I’d poured my life and strength into him like he’d done to me so many times during my training. He’d turned me into such a capable monster.

I had to get up before I passed out. I had to…For a few seconds I lost consciousness, before I came to with a lurch. I forced myself up and slid towards the edge of the bed.

He wrapped his arm around my stomach. “Stay,” he whispered, voice weak but still perfect, pulling me back against him, into his warm embrace.

I closed my eyes while feelings fluttered against my ribcage. His voice was so beautiful, even though it reflected the damage I’d done to him.

“I should go.” My voice was so soft, breathless, helpless. Could he even hear it?

“I need you to protect me while I sleep.”

Oh. Because something else could possibly be so effective at staking him to a chair. Clearly he was more than slightly unhinged. I should definitely leave, run as fast and far as possible, but instead, I closed my eyes and soaked in the feel of him. I’d run away later.