Then again, there is one way…
I bite my lip, considering my options. I’ve only ever carried Podaxis with me through the Twelfth Court, but there’s no reason to believe I can’t usher Dorian through it as well. It might be the only way to get him safely back to his room.
But why do I care about getting him to his room? I could disappear right now, make my way through the Twelfth Court and back to the women’s wing alone, and let Dorian fall down the stairs to his death.
My heart twists at the thought, an almost tangible pain piercing it. I try to tell myself it’s because Dorian must die by my kiss, if only to fulfill my bargain and rid me of my deadly magic, but I know that’s not it.
The truth is…
The truth…
I shake my head. It’s because I’m not fully in my right mind. I may not be riding the high of Honey Pyrus mixed with Starshine but I did imbibe in my share of drink, and—yes, I admit it—I’ve put myself in the position to fall for Dorian’s stupid nonexistent charms that only appear because he’s a drunk idiot. I feel bad for him. That’s all. I don’t know why, but I do. And while I may be a killer, I can still retain an ounce of dignity for both myself and him. I’m not going to let the fool break his neck at the bottom of the stairs. When he breathes his last breath, it will be on the other side of my lips.
“Hold tight to me,” I say to Dorian. Then I close my eyes and disappear.
28
Iwake up on my side with a comforting warmth at my back, the smell of salt filling my senses, mingling with a clean aroma like morning dew. Nestling my face into soft sheets, I realize the smell is coming from my blankets. But my blankets have never smelled this good.
Something shifts behind me, and my first thought is of Podaxis. Then I remember he spent the night in his own quarters. And the form behind me is far too big to be Podaxis. It presses against everything from my back down to my legs. Movement glides over my hip, and I realize it’s a hand. A very large, very heavy, warm hand. Hot breath tingles the back of my neck, stirring my hair, and—who the shells is in my bed?
My eyes fly open, and I find I’m not in my room at all, but one twice as large as mine. It’s about as plain and modestly furnished, but the wardrobe isn’t my wardrobe, and its open door reveals nothing but black suits with gold embroidered cuffs. The nightstand isn’t my nightstand, nor is the portrait resting upon it, one of a woman and two adolescent girls.
And this bed, with its salt-and-morning-dew scent isn’t mine, but—
Like a rushing waterfall, everything comes back to me.
Spying on Dorian as he left the church.
Following him to Club Scorpius.
Downing drink after drink of Starshine.
Dancing with Martin. Then our brief altercation.
Then Dorian.
Dorian.
Dorian.
With the slowest motions I can manage, I turn my head until dark curls come into view, then his bronze forehead, black lashes dusting his cheeks, then down to full lips parted slightly in slumber.
My heart skitters, and I blink a few times to be sure I’m truly seeing what I’m seeing. My gaze leaves his lips to his neck, expecting to see only bare skin, but instead, I find him in his linen shirt. The collar is unbuttoned far too low, but at least he’s dressed.
I close my eyes and try to remember what happened after we danced.
We left the club.
Walked home. He held my hand.
I swallow hard at that.
Then we came back here, and I helped him to the stairs—
The Twelfth Court! That’s what happened next. I replay the memory in my mind’s eye, of me dragging Dorian through glittering purple particles. He remained unconscious the entire time, but it didn’t make pulling his weight any easier. Not that he was as heavy as he is outside of the magical realm, but still. Podaxis is like nothing when I carry him in the Twelfth Court. Dorian was a vibrating mass far bigger than me, and I kept struggling to grip him without my hands-that-aren’t-hands simply slipping through the particles of his body.
I was spent when we reached the floor, and we collapsed in a heap. Dorian, of course, had no clue what transpired and apologized profusely. It took all my willpower not to retch after expending so much energy in the Twelfth Court, but when we heard a door open at the far end of the hall, we quickly sprang into action, with Dorian dragging me into his room.
