Everything hurt. That wasn’t rare for being in Delphine’s presence, but none of it was the good kind of hurt. This was a deep, lethargic ache that made Damien want to go back to sleep for about a century. The tightness in his shoulders and pressure on his wrists told him she’d tied his arms behind his back, and of course she’d done it exactly right, he’d fucking taught her. As he shifted, a jolt of pain let him know she’d used ropes enchanted to suppress arcana. She always thought of everything.
But she had dropped her arcane manipulation of his noxscura, and his mind was clear enough to have negative thoughts about her. Every hateful curse flooded into his cloudy brain alongside a heaping dose of panic. He had to get away, hadto stop her, had to kill her.
When Damien lunged, Delphine only pulled back an inch with a perturbed gasp. “Now, now,” she said, shaking a finger at him, “I didn’t give you back your mind to have you biting me. Not yet anyway.”
The lurch had taken nearly all he had, and he was thankful to already be collapsed on the ground, back against a wall, legs splayed out. His head was too heavy to keep aloft, and even breathing was a challenge. All he could do was watch his bare chest rise and fall shallowly. When had his tunic come off? At least he still had his pants, but no armor from what he could see. His vision went in and out, black spots in his eyes.
Except they weren’t just spots, and they weren’t in his eyes.
“Get them off,” he mumbled, rolling his head back.
“What, darling?” She was using that voice, the one that was too pleasant to be genuine.
“The leeches,” he stressed, jaw going tight as he glared between strands of black, sweat-drenched hair. “Take. Them. Off.” With each word, he knocked the back of his head against the wall for emphasis. He could barely feel it. Not good.
“You know I can’t do thatandhave you in your own mind. It’s one or the other, dear: anemia or enthrallment. But it does look like this one’s full.” Delphine slipped long fingers beneath the leech across his chest and pried its tiny jaws from his skin. He bit his lip as she ripped it away with a squelch, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a pained grunt. Blood splattered down his chest, the only solace that his magic wasn’t also inside that nasty thing. The bite pulsed, and he could feel arcana ooze through his body toward it, intending to heal whenever it finally got there, but it was going to be a slow process.
Delphine held the parasite in the air between them, its faceless end wriggling in search of a vein to latch onto and suck the life out of. Her metallic irises watched the slimy thing witha sickening joy. “We’ll be using this one,” she said, and carefully placed it into a scarlet-colored box with delicate filigree carved into its top.
As she snapped the lid shut, she focused back on him, a cascade of black hair catching the light and shimmering on either side of a pointed face. “You’re a much better guest than most. No asking where you are, why you’re here, what’s going to happen. It’s a lovely change of pace.” She ran a hand up his neck, and he jerked away with a growl. “Okay, big boy, take it down a notch.”
Damien knew the answers to those questions already, more or less. He was in her home, because she wanted him there, and bad things were going to happen. The specifics didn’t really matter because there wouldn’t be any bargaining with her, there would only be escape, if he could figure out how. Again.Fuck.
And there were other questions he cared about far more, specifically, where was Amma? He’d managed to fend off Delphine’s enchantment in the catacombs twice, not dropping her into the pit and shielding her from the wyvern’s attack. He hoped he hadn’t injured her when he threw her away from the ledge, but he expected her to be angry for that—an anger he would be glad to have. He’d welcomeanythingof Amma then just to know she was alive.
But if Amma were dead, Delphine would have already said something—she loved delivering her variety of good news. And if Amma were dead, Damien was certain he would feel it. The talisman would have been shucked out of her, for one, but more importantly, the world would feel empty. His desire to flee from Delphine would likely not even exist if Amma were not somewhere out there, alive. But there was no gaping hole in his chest, no pointlessness to living, so he knew she wasn’t beyond reach.
“Now, what is this?” The pendant fell from Delphine’s hand,hanging from its chain, ugly and jagged.
He’d forgotten about that. “Oh, the Grand Order’s gonna be mad,” Damien slurred. “Shoulda gone in the pit.”
She cocked a black brow at the cloudy gem then her eyes flashed to him. “Don’t lie to me.” Sharp nails dug into his cheek as she squeezed his jaw. “I was commanded by The Order to retrieve this from you, and in return, I could do what I wanted with you for a long weekend, not that I intend to give you back. Now, whatisit?”
Damien’s mind worked though it was slow. She wasn’t lying—that was her I-told-you-my-bit-and-now-I’m-annoyed-I’m-not-getting-the-answer-I-expect face. He snorted. They’d been pitted on opposite sides of the Dread. Shocking. “I dunno.”
He expected another slap, but Delphine instead rubbed at the place she’d dug in on his cheek. “Well, doesn’t matter. I got what I want, so they can have this.” Whistling as she stood, a flutter of black wings dove down from one of the rafters high above. A wyvern, much smaller than the one she’d appeared on in the catacombs, hovered before her and took the pendant before flitting back off out of sight. Well, if Damien survived Delphine, GOoD would be next in line to sever his head.
Taking a calculated step away from him, she glanced back over her shoulder. Her dress clung to her curves and spilled behind her like oil, raven feathers woven into the train and a nest of thin straps running up her back so that her flesh was on display from neck to hip. It had been his favorite on her once upon a time, and she had always known to pull it out when things were…complicated between them. “You are wondering why you’re here though, aren’t you?”
He rolled the back of his head against the cool stone wall, senses clearing a bit more. “No, I’m really not.”
“I was just so disappointed when we spoke at Yvlcon,” she went on, gazing up into the high ceilings of the space. “Youdisregarded my offer as if it were some two-copper whore you bedded and not the solution to all of your problems.”
“Whores are more virtuous than whatever your solutions might be.”
She bared fangs like a wolf, then quickly recovered. “I understand your reluctance, but as I said, I know what youneednow, what will finally show you that this is where you belong. Eventually, you’ll understand what’s best for you, but until then, I’d like your true reaction to the work I’ve done and the sacrifices I’ve made to help you.”
The last time Delphine had tried tohelphim, he ended up with an unmendable scar across his face and a three-moon’s-long recuperation in the darkest basement of Aszath Koth. “No thanks.”
“You haven’t even heard it yet,” she snapped, then sucked in a breath and sauntered back to him with another terrifying smile. She wanted him to ask. Sheneededhim to ask.
Hewasn’tgoing to ask.
“Did you redecorate?”
Delphine lowered herself before him with a quickness and gripped his face in both hands. “Darling,” she said rottenly, “you are truly testing me.”
She held him so hard he thought she might just snap his neck, but then her hand shifted to brush sweaty strands of hair from his eyes, trailing fingers over his scalp. Her touch was rarely so gentle, but then her fingers came back to trace along the scar she’d given him. Or rather, made him give himself. There was an awestruck marvel in her silver eyes as she studied her work, her desire for pain, at least for the moment, sated.
