Pets can be bought,Ailith told me.They can be sold. They can be traded and set free. Only one’s master has the power to decide.
Yakim considers me. “So, you do have a voice. I must say it is as lovely as the rest of you.”
It takes two attempts before I’m able to speak without retching. “Zephyrus will pay you whatever amount for the antidote, but I am not part of the deal.”
“You are, my dear.” How calmly Yakim responds. “I determined it.”
It is then I realize Zephyrus no longer touches me in reassurance. “There must be another way.”
“While I appreciate a woman who speaks her mind”—the demon’s low, silken cadence makes my stomach turn with dread—“the decision is not yours to make.” There is a pause. “We will have to break you of that habit.”
Panic swells beyond my control. It bears a mouth ringed by jagged teeth.
“How desperate are you for this antidote,” Yakim murmurs, “old friend?”
Zephyrus wouldn’t turn me over. He would not handle my life so carelessly.
“That is your price?” Zephyrus demands. When I reach for his hand, he nudges me away.
“It is.” The demon glances between us. “The only question is whether you are willing to pay it.”
Was this the plan all along? Use me, trade me, dispose of me whenI no longer served his purpose? To think I’ve abandoned my peers back in Miles Cross for him—and now this.
“And if I am?” Zephyrus holds the demon’s gaze.
Picking up his briefcase, Yakim props it on his lap, opening it toward himself so we are unable to view the contents. He selects a vial with a cork stopper, holding it out. Small particles rest at the bottom of the glass.
I dig my fingernails into Zephyrus’ arm. “Not this,” I whisper.
He won’t meet my eye. “It’s the only way.”
“It’snot.” There must be another solution we have yet to think of.
Yakim offers the vial between his long fingers. “It can be yours,” he murmurs. “All I need is your pet’s name.”
“Give me the antidote, and you will have it.”
The vial disappears into the demon’s grip. “You are the last person I would ever trust. Who’s to say you will not flee once the antidote is in your possession?” He clucks his tongue in disappointment. “We do the exchange my way, or not at all.”
“My way,” Zephyrus counters, “or you can forget about my pet.”
Yakim laughs his cold, brittle caw. “I have no great need for a human companion. Yours is lovely, but there are others I can obtain by easier means.”
He wouldn’t. He can’t.But I have forgotten who Zephyrus is: a once-beloved god. He is used to catching others under his thumb, going to whatever lengths is necessary to obtain what he desires most.
Nudging me into a standing position, he directs me toward the demon. Panic spikes again as he removes his hand from my back. The trap, I finally understand, was never for Yakim. It was for me.
“Brielle,” the West Wind states. “Her name is Brielle.”
31
“BRIELLE,”THE DEMON CROONS, FLASHINGthose bone-white teeth. “How it rolls off the tongue.”
I am still, caught within a perpetual echo.Brielle.The most carefully safe-guarded secret, bargained away, no more significant than a bit of dented coin.
The trade is made, the antidote passed into the West Wind’s possession, and twelve thousand coin given to Yakim, plucked from the air itself. Zephyrus also tugs a glass bottle from his pocket, similar to the ones I witnessed being sold at the sea-nymphs’ celebration, and hands it to the demon. With dread, I realize what it must contain: my name. But how? Has he had it all this time? I am not familiar enough with the process to understand. The great room drifts out of focus, a melancholy blur tinged with sweet-smelling smoke.
Yakim collects his briefcase, downs the remainder of his drink, and turns to me.
