The girl is my mate. But when I try to recall her name, when I try to imagine her face, the memory flickers away.
What happened to me?
An ambush?
But that memory is even further away. I cannot reach it at all.
I summon the shadows forth in the hope that I can cut through these binds and free myself. But they will not yield, remaining stubbornly in my veins.
“If you’re searching for your magic, darling, you won’t be able to reach it. Those are deadening binds. They prevent weavers from using their shadows. Useful little things.”
The voice is familiar. A woman. Older than I am, I think, although my own age is a mystery to me.
The voice sends an involuntary shudder down my spine, a reflex I don’t understand.
The hood shifts around my ears and lifts from my face.
My eyes adjust to the darkness immediately.
I’m in a large stone room. A dungeon, perhaps. There are no windows, but far above us swirls a gray mist, dark shadows swooping in its midst. A dry wind swirls down and frisks the cloak of the woman who stands above me.
She is beautiful, elegant, and alluring. Her eyes glow in the darkness and her ivory-white fangs gleam.
“Veronica,” I say, “untie me.”
“I don’t think that would be a very good idea. I don’t know if I can trust you any longer, Fox, darling.”
I’ve been laid out on my stomach, so I strain my neck to lift my head and meet her gaze.
“Trust me? You were the one who fed me lies about the trial, Veronica.”
“Yes, because your infatuation with that girl has warped your mind.” She frowns. “Did you really think I didn’t know about your little plan? Your girl is not terribly bright, is she? She came to my office, broke into it, stole from me, left her scent everywhere for me to find. And then you come to me – willingly for the first time in years – scrounging after your scraps of information. You must think me a fool!”
“I don’t think you’re a fool,” I say. I think she is mad. I’ve known it for a long time. It just took me time to see it, seduced by her attention and her sophistication.
“But I have been a fool, Fox,” she crouches down and strokes her fingers through my hair, “I’ve let myself be fooled by you, just as you have been fooled by her.”
“Youwere the one who fooledme.”
I was a kid. One from Slate. She was glamorous, older. I allowed her to flatter me, to make me feel special, and when she offered me glimpses of an alternative life – an easier, more comfortable, and, yes, richer one – then offered me a way to make that life mine, I was powerless to resist.
“How did I fool you?” She pouts. “All I did was love you.”
“Is this how you treat all the people you love, Veronica?” I say, struggling against the ties.
“You used to like it when we played like this, darling,” she says, tugging on the strands of my hair and then rolling to stand and pressing the point of her heel on the center of my back. “Remember all the fun we had. I bet your little girl never dreamed of such things.”
“It wasn’t fun; it was abuse.”
“Is there a difference?” she asks, licking her tongue down her fangs.
“A very big one.” I strain my neck back further, trying to make out what lies beyond the mists above us. Loud screeches permeate the walls of whatever this place is, but they sound like no creature I know of. “Where are we, Veronica?”
“We’re hiding. For the time being. And you are my guest.”
“You mean prisoner.”
She laughs. “Once again, I see no difference.”
