Because Millicent laughed, and…
And…fuck, my chest caved in. It was so damn familiar. Sounded so much likehers.
My eyes closed.
“I’m not sure what I said that was so humorous,” he muttered, sounding thoroughly put out.
“You don’t know me at all if you think death is a threat,” she said. “It would be a relief.”
My jaw tightened as her footsteps rapped off stone again, carrying her toward the hall and the alcove I stood in.
“You can stop hiding.” Millicent’s hushed voice cut through the darkness, and I knew damn well she couldn’t be talking to me.
“I wasn’t hiding,” Malik muttered a second later. “And you shouldn’t be down here—”
“And why is that?” she drawled. “Actually, don’t bother answering. He needs to eat. Can’t get a skeleton to talk. Well, maybe you can if there’re still tendons, vocal cords, and shit. Huh. Now, I kind of want to find out.”
“If you had let me finish, I was attempting to say that you shouldn’t be down here by yourself,” Malik ground out, apparently accustomed enough to her random tangents that he didn’t get sidetracked. “He’s more dangerous than you realize.”
“He’s a whiny bitch boy, is what he is. Just like someone else I know,” she said. “And in case you’re wondering, that someone—”
“Is me. Whatever,” he interrupted. “I don’t want you coming here by yourself,” Malik bit out, their voices closer.
“I know.” She paused. “And I also know that you know I don’t give a fuckwhatyou want.”
“And we both know that is a lie,” he snapped. “But keep telling yourself that, sweetness.”
“Gods, you’re annoying.”
“And you’re beautiful,” my brother replied, causing my brows to rise again. There was a gap of silence. “What you said back there about death?”
Her steps didn’t cease. “You do realize eavesdropping is creepy, right?”
“It’s not true,” Malik said—or perhaps begged. “Tell me it wasn’t true.”
Millicent didn’t answer as they passed me, but there wasn’t a single part of me that doubted she’d meant it. Only the gods knew what she’d been through, having spent most of her life under Isbeth’s thumb. But it wasn’t that. It was thewayshe’d said it. She’d said something so dark so lightly—almost lovingly—that I knew it was the truth.
Because I’d once felt that the nothingness of death would be a tranquil, peaceful alternative to living a half-life, where a part of me remained in the dark, grimy cell I had been kept in.
I exhaled a slow breath. The silence of the underground tunnels settled around me. I waited a few more minutes before moving. My steps were silent as I walked along the damp corridor. The air was heavy with the scent of wet stone, and the flickering torchlight cast long, wavering shadows. It was all too fucking familiar.
I stopped before the cell. It wasn’t like the one I had been kept in. That’d had a mostly solid door that was left open just enough to let the Craven in because Isbitch had a sense of humor. This one was all bars, and the cell was far more accommodating. There was a chamber pot, and a cot that the golden fuck sat on.
His head was bowed, and strands of blond hair stained with the rusty shade of dried blood hung forward in limp clumps. The chain around his wrist jangled as he picked up the food Millicent had brought him. His lip curled at the bowl of what appeared to be a sloppy stew. He set it down. Leaning against the wall, he tipped his head back and drew up a leg, letting his wrist rest on the knee of his dirty breeches. His fingers moved slowly as if dancing over piano keys.
I drifted closer, my gaze tracking over his face. For the first time, I saw his face bare, the wings normally covering over half of it having faded away.
The freckles were the first thing I noticed. He didn’t have as many as Millicent. They were sprinkled across the bridge of his nose. Just likehers. And fuck, I didn’t want to see it. Didn’t want to acknowledge what I was looking at, even though his cheekbones weren’t as high. Didn’t want to concede that the once-painted wings hadn’t hidden the familiar features—a wide brow that tapered to a slender jaw and a slightly pointed chin. Didn’t want to accept that it was a nearly identical straight nose with a subtle lift at the tip, or that the fucking bow-shaped lips were the same.
Callumlookedlike her sibling, and I couldn’t deny it. Admitting that didn’t fill me with shock like it had when I’d finally seen Millicent without the painted wings and hair dye.
All I felt was anger at what that meant. At how utterly fucked up it was.
Callum’s fingers froze. A heartbeat passed, and then his chin dipped and his eyes opened, narrowing at the exact moment mine did.
I knew he couldn’t see me; the shadows were thick around me, but he stared like he could. Did he sense my presence? Fuck if I knew, as his gaze shifted away.
Nor did I care at the moment.
