“I’ve never been so wounded,” said Prava, flopping into his chair with his hand on his heart. “Demelza, I would not love you any less if you refused to let me carve out your heart in pursuit of immortality. Surely you know that…”
“I know…” said Demelza, grudgingly.
“The more I’ve thought about it, the less appealing immortality sounds if my own family shall not speak to me anymore,” said Prava. “And though I thought perhaps I could make my next project all about resurrecting you, the damage will be done. Your sisters might decide to have offspring and they’dbe so mad at me, I’d never get to see my grandchicks… there shall be no holidays… it is all too much to bear. You believe me, don’t you?”
Demelza sighed. Her father was a monster. But he did love her.
“I believe you,” she said.
“Although to be absolutely certain, I take it this means you do not want to be a sacrifice, yes?”
“Yes,” said Demelza.
“Yes you’ll let me carve out your heart?” asked Prava, excited.
Demelza frowned. “No.”
“Well, that settles it!” said Prava cheerfully. “Even if you’d said yes, I would not love you more than I do now. My love for you and my desire for immortality are completely separate.”
Araminta tried to touch Demelza, but an invisible barrier rebuffed her. It seemed that only Demelza could make the choice to return.
“Now that you’re home, how about you pick the dessert tonight, dearest?” said Prava, grinning so widely that the firelight caught on his fangs. “Honeyed aphids? Frozen cream with chunky beetles? Whatever you wish!”
“I’m staying where I am,” said Demelza.
Prava frowned. “What?”
Demelza thought of the library wyvern and the way the fog of Hush Manor playfully curled around her ankles. She thought of her books and her favorite tea mug, the comfortof her own bed and meals with her parents… all things beloved. All things missed.
But then she thought of the splendors of Rathe Castle, the thrill of conversations… the dimple in Arris’s smile. The way he had held her close when he kissed her. He had promised her safety in return for her talents, but if safety was no longer a concern, why did she find herself tethered to the spot?
“You want to stay,” said Prava, rising suddenly from his chair. There was a knowing glint to his eyes. “These trials you have been participating in for the prince’s hand… you mean to complete them in earnest.”
“Don’t be silly, Prava,” said Araminta. “Demelza knows better than to—Daughter?”
Her parents looked at her as if they were seeing her for the first time. Weeks ago, Demelza might have cowered beneath their gaze. But now she lifted her chin.
“Demelza, come home this instant,” said Araminta.
Demelza did not even hesitate:
“No,” she said. “The prince and I have an arrangement. I will not be coming home… not yet. I hope you can understand. Please know that I love you both very much.”
“Araminta, I think she… I think she likes the boy!” said Prava, panicked. “My dear, don’t you know what could happen if you fall in love? You could—”
The moment Demelza withdrew her hand, her parents faded from view. At first it was like viewing them from behind a pane of frosted glass. Seconds later, the stones turned opaque and Demelza was alone.
But not for long.
One door might have shut, but another swiftly opened. Darkness—sinuous, velveteen and inextricably alive—poured into her room and announced:
YOUR TURN STARTS NOW.
31The Last Trial
Demelza crossed several thresholds when she stepped outside the door of the bedroom. She felt the glow of the fire in her parents’ sitting room warming her body as she turned her back. This was one threshold. The second was crossed when she realized she was the one pressing forward and farther into the unknown rather than being pushed from one trial to the next. The third threshold was a subtle one, so secret that Demelza’s own heart had yet to reveal the truth to the rest of her… but that would have to wait.
There was none of the pomp that had accompanied the first two trials. No rustling silk, no swooping songbirds, no gleaming halls strung with lights. There was only darkness—below, above—and it was alive. It settled on Demelza’s shoulders, like a pelt of midnights. It combed through her hair with curious fingers. It covered her eyes. Demelza could move, but her steps were unbalanced, for there was no ground but the buoying pressure of the boundless dark. Her sense of the world had been snuffed out likea candle, and in the vacuum without touch and taste, smell and sound, Demelza was sure that fear would seize her… but it did not. If anything, the dark seemed… hesitant. It was waiting for her move, and in its waiting, Demelza sensed a twitchy restlessness that struck her as more playful than predatory.
