7
Nox
Ismelled her the second she stepped into the study. Those pomegranates she ate every morning clung to her fingertips, tart and sweet. It mixed with the scent of salt from a sea breeze, still embedded in her hair from her life on the beaches of Mysthelm.
Fear flashed in those bright blue-green eyes when I grabbed her arm. The smell of it was heightened with my Shifter instincts, bitter and sharp. I didn’t think I’d ever seen herafraid. Angry and defiant, yes. Annoying and perceptive, constantly. But she was so quick to hide her fear. Behind those black-rimmed glasses of hers, her eyes were much more vulnerable, so easy to read.
I dug my fingers into her wrist. “Having fun playing the spy, I see,” I growled. “I shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve already proven how good you are at it.”
Her fear swiftly turned to indignation. She yanked out of my hold, but the hallway was so tight, she didn’t have anywhere to go. Her warm breath fell across my outstretched arm as she scoffed.
“You’re such a hypocrite, you know that?” she seethed.
That caught me off guard. I raised an eyebrow, but she surged ahead before I could say anything. “You punish me for betraying Clarissa when I only did it to keep her alive, and yet youbragaboutwhat you did to that innocent man.” She brandished an arm toward the workshop, her fingers so close, they brushed the side of my ribs. The contact sent a jolt through me.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I snarled.
“You act like you’re better than me while spending your nights killing people for Scar—whatever his name is. The ends always justify the means with people like you. ‘Doing what you have to do,’” she mimicked Silas’s words from a moment ago. Her full chest heaved from her outburst, the space between her eyes creasing in mistrust. “What did that man even do to you? The Lightbender? Is that what you do while you keep me locked in that ridiculous?—”
“If you would hold your tongue for five seconds, maybe you’d see you don’t know everything,” I growled, leaning toward her. She pressed back into the sidewall and glared up at me with contempt as I caged her in.
“I think I know enough,” she spat.
“Do you, darling?” My eyes strayed to the pulse pounding erratically at the base of her neck, giving away her fright. I moved closer and relished the way her pupils dilated. “Enlighten me.”
She swallowed, and I traced the path down the column of her throat. “I know you have some sort of secret operation going on. I know a lot more people live here than just you. Maybe even children. Are you hurting them too?”
Her words pierced my chest, sending enough shock through me that I took a step away from her to the side. That she could eventhinkthat?—
Her eyes narrowed. She knew she’d hit a nerve. She straightened her shoulders, sending those long red waves tumbling down her chest and onto her nightgown.
Something hot and acidic flared inside me. I’d done what she asked. I’d given her free rein of my house, and here she was, sneaking around in the dead of night the first chance she got.Spyingon my people. Accusing me of things she knew nothing about.
She was observant; that much was obvious. To be able to pickup on what little she heard so quickly was impressive. But she was brash. Presumptuous.Mouthy. With the wrong people, that could get her killed.
“You want the truth?” I snapped. “Fine. I’ll show you the truth.”
I closed my fingers around her wrist and hauled her out of the dark hallway into Tessa and Kieran’s study. Devora tried to pull away, but I kept my tight grip on her as we exited onto the first floor.
“Where are you taking me?” she grumbled. I ignored her. We reached the entrance hall, where Everett had started hanging art projects of the refugees to brighten the corridors.
I dragged her to my side and pointed at a childlike drawing of a family—two parents and three children standing beneath a red sun. “This is Morpheus. He’s a five-year-old boy who was taken from his parents by Scarven, the name you so callously threw out, and kept in a cell for six months. We still haven’t found his family, but he’s been living here ever since we rescued him.”
Without giving her time to reply, I jerked her to another piece hanging on the wall. “This is a flower made by a fourteen-year-old named Juliette. She glued together pieces of her burnt clothing from when Scarven tortured her with fire. She’s been here for two years.”
I pivoted to the other side, pulling Devora with me. She stopped resisting, her lips parted and eyes wide. I motioned to three long chains made up of tiny pieces of paper twisted together. Each strand started at the ceiling and worked their way to the floor.
Devora reached out a hand to touch one of the strands. “These have names on them.”
“One hundred eighty-two. One for every person we’ve rescued from Scarven in the last five years. Every person who found refuge in this place.”
She looked over at me, her eyes softening for the first time since I met her.
That only made me angrier.
“Heis the monster, Devora. Not me. No matter what you think you understand, I don’thurtthese people,” I said, my voice low as my nostrils flared. “I, unlike some, find ways to save those I care about. I do what I can toprotectthem. So the next time you want to accuse me of something, Shadow Wielder, I suggest you get your facts straight.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, her features mingled with shame and a bit of defensiveness. “Maybe if someone had told me?—”
