Corallin is like a shadow, unseen and unheard with all the skills of a master assassin.
And me? Well, I can read a spellbook without being cursed by madness.
There is a clicking sound as I insert the key, followed by a rumble as the statue shifts to the side, moved by some hidden mechanics within. Underneath the statue I can make twisting stairs that spiral downward.
I glance at Wilder and smirk. “I guess there is nowhere to go but down.”
He swallows hard as he looks at me, speaking for the first time since we left Sofarynn’s office, “Who are you exactly, Bronwyn the Eel?”
I push to my feet ignoring his words. I hike up my skirts so that they do not trail in the shallow pool as I step through it to reach the statue. I peer downward. There is an opening below, wide enough to fit a narrow spiral staircase that is so tightly packed in that I cannot see beyond it.
“I’m not asking that question rhetorically,” he says coming up beside me. “I’d truly like to know. You know all my deepest secrets now; I think it’s only fair I know yours.”
“It wasn’t a trade, Wilder,” I reply muttering the first glow spell I can think of off the top of my head. It’s the one that I used in Morozov’s office. Just a small orb that follows me. When it comes to basic spells simplicity is best. Why would I have need of a light that shines a different color or for a set amount of time?
No, I need only memorize one singular light spell and worry about mastering more complex spells in more useful fields of magic.
“I still want to know,” he mutters morosely.
I feel myself smile. I’m sure he does. I look over at him. “All you need to know is that I will take that spellbook far away where Morozov will never be able to use it.” Hopefully, that will at least stymie his plans for vampiric conquest.
That’s the best I can offer the world.
I am no hero. I just have my own uses for that spellbook.
Wilder’s hand lashes out faster than I can blink, clamping down on my arm. I turn back, first taking it in and the cold seeping through the arm of my sleeve from his touch. Then I raise my gaze to him. “Wait, you’re leaving?” he demands.
I find myself mesmerized by his crimson red eyes. So brilliant that the northern lights highlight them even in the night. They are like twin rubies that would be found in my father’s treasury.
And they shine with desperation.
I swallow before I force myself to nod. “Yes, I—I—will have gotten what I came here for. There would be no reason for me to stay.”
Indeed, it would be too dangerous for me to remain. Not just because of Morozov, but because the theft of the book might be traced back to me.
I pull my arm, but Wilder’s grip is unyielding. “But…” he whispers.
“But what, Wilder?” I demand as I yank again. This time he releases me, and I fall down two steps in my surprise before I’m able to catch myself. But not before I manage to scrape my arm fairly badly. I hold it and glare up at him. “But what?”
He blinks, glancing away. “But nothing, I suppose,” he mutters as he passes me a handkerchief. “Now cover that up, you reek of blood, and I haven’t eaten for a few days.”
I snatch the handkerchief from his hand as I press it against my arm, disappointment welling up within me. I don’t know why I should be disappointed. Yes, there is something unspoken between us. Something that neither of us are willing to say outloud. But it is better for it to remain unspoken. To say it would make it real.
Unspoken I can pretend that I am imagining the longing look he throws my way. I can assure myself that my heart does not break just a bit at the thought of saying goodbye to him.
I can try to pretend that what I feel toward him is loathing plain and simple.
That the kisses were all a part of a ruse that we put on to buy us time.
But if he admits what I fear he is thinking then I will no longer be able to ignore it. I’ll know beyond a shadow of a doubt that our fake relationship got too real. For him as well as me.
And I don’t know how to deal with the consequences of that. I quickly turn and start down the stairs, keeping my hand on the wall as I follow the downward descent toward the sound of rushing water.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Wilder
Iam capable of accepting the fact that I do not deserve happiness. I’m a bleeding coward. I never stand up for myself nor have I fought foranythingthat I have ever wanted. I allowed myself to be turned into a vampire because I never stood up to my father and put an end to his abuses before they left this irrevocable change on my person.
