You're letting her waste your time. Useless boy. Utterly useless,my father whispers.
One of these days, she'll pass out and never revive. Let her go. She's dangerous for you.
Leave me alone, I think back, pulling Maven tighter as my ears ring.
I should have realized my blood magic would nullify whatever effects Crypt's plant would have had on Maven. I need to find someone whose magicwillwork with her. Perhaps she must make the elixir for herself with her necromancy, or...maybe I need to find Pia. After all, the prophetess mysteriously healed my keeper after the Matched Ball.
Someone needs to ask that prophetess questions. I'm suspicious of her, but I won't know any peace until I help Maven fend off her condition.
You want true peace? You only get that one way,another voice sniggers.
She can't break your curse. She is a waste of time. You know what you must do to escape us.
"Shut up," I whisper miserably, squeezing my eyes shut to bury my face in her dark hair.
The ringing becomes unbearable, and my vision darkens as the madness takes hold. And this time, when I shake off the insanity, I'm straddling Maven with my hands around her neck.
She stares up at me with wide eyes, her hands poised and surrounded by dark magic, but she's not moving to stop me as this situation smashes into me like ice water.
I'm…hurting my keeper.
I'm strangling her.
I cry out in horror and break away from her, bile burning its way up my throat before I lurch away from the bed to expel anything left in my stomach. I fall to the floor, tugging at my hair as the voices' mocking laughter echoes in my head.
I was just hurting my blood blossom because of them.
They're right. There's nothing left of my mind, anyway—I'm absolutely fucking insane, so if I'm hurting my keeper, I can't let myself exist. I can't keep posing a threat to her.
The ringing hasn't subsided, so I can't make out whatever Maven is trying to rasp from the bed. I stagger to my feet, trying to get to the door. I can't even fucking look at her. If I see marks from my hands around her neck?—
Just like the marks that Gideon probably left, a voice in my head crows.
She'll look at you like you're him now.
More nausea threatens to escape. The voices in my head were just taking advantage of Maven's most traumatic memory. Andmyhands were around her neck.
What have I done?
What have I fucking done?
"Silas!"
A flare of dark magic slams the door shut just as I open it, and then Maven grasps my arm and turns me around. I was right. She has bruises around her throat. A sound of devastation breaks from me, but she stubbornly grips my jaw to force me to meet her gaze.
The moment I see her determined, beautiful eyes, free of the hurt and hatred I should see there, I drop to my knees to bury my face against her stomach.
"Sangfluir.Sangfluir, im altha echair a?—”
I'm babbling nonsensically in fae, but she starts stroking my hair.
"Shh. Breathe."
Maven stays in place, fixing my hair while she waits for me to calm down and stop shaking. How vulnerable I must seem right now—how absolutely fuckingweak. She should be ashamed to have me in her quintet. Why is she comforting me? I just hurt her despite promising I never would.
I cannot fucking believe I hurt her. The shaking gets worse.
"I can't live with myself," I whisper brokenly. "I can't live with the voices anymore, Maven. They're right. I can't?—"
