“At the very least, it looks like my armory was to your satisfaction.”
Her fingers clench in her skirts, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “Do you let all your captives peruse through your weapons?”
“Only the ones who go after the cutlery. Eventually we’ll run out, and then what? You’ll have us all reduced to eating like animals.”
Willa runs her tongue slowly over her teeth, like she’s attempting to temper the snide remark she has at the ready. After a stilted moment, she asks, “Where are you taking me?” Though feminine in tone, her voice contains a husky quality, a rich texture that, for some ridiculous reason, reminds me of the luscious scratch of nails over bare skin.
“To the city,” I reply irritably, though I’m not entirely sure what I’m irritated with. Willa, for being here and looking like the embodiment of all my worst mistakes? Or myself, for being drawn to her despite my disgust? “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
I phrase it like she has a choice, though we both know she doesn’t. While I promised Willa the wards to her world would open, I purposely didn’t saywhen.And though I havemy suspicions of who Willa is, they’re worthless until Adira confirms them.
Willa’s eyes flick to mine and my ribbons shiver in pleasure. It takes everything in me not to snarl at her, to punish her for enamoring my death even though she has no idea she’s doing it; no idea of the horror she sits beside.
“There are cities here?”
“Did you think I ruled a kingdom of only Sam?” I reply wryly.
Her lush mouth twists in annoyance, and I almost smile. In our short time together, I’ve come to realize that despite my dislike of the woman, Idolike infuriating her. I like the colors she turns and the flare of her eyes, the twist of her mouth, and the vibration of her body.
While some say a woman’s sweetness is heaven’s nectar, I’d argue that Willa’s fury is a thousand times more intoxicating. And my death consumes it like sustenance.
“I was beginning to think you ruled no one and are actually just an insane asshole who believes he’s a king. And Sam is kind enough to play along with your delusions.”
A surprised laugh bubbles out of me. “You don’t know Sam very well if you think he’d allow me even one delusion of grandeur.”
She studies me, and for an absurd moment, I feel uncomfortable; like I want to shift beneath her penetrating gaze. “Sam isn’t your servant, then?” she asks carefully.
“Sam is whatever I need him to be,” I reply. “But foremost, he’s my friend.”
I don’t know why I admit this to her, other than I don’t like when Sam is reduced to something so provincial as a servant; a relationship that can be defined in payments and debts feels obscene when the man is the entire reason I haven’t given up on Letum completely. His grounding presence has kept me frombegging one of those blasted sirens to drag me to my watery grave and put an end to the daily agony.
Willa looks somewhat surprised by my admission, and I decide I like that, too. In her time here, she hasn’t appeared surprised by much—not even my otherworldly ribbons of decay. I should probably be offended that in a land of whimsy and nightmares what has startled her most is my ability to have a friend, but instead, I take comfort in the fact she’s able to be surprised at all. Despite her best intentions to appear deadened and numb,somethingin Willa still thrives.
“Well, I suppose even the devil has friends in his demons,” she snipes, brushing the thick curtain aside to gaze out the window. Her dress rides up her calves, revealing delicate ankles and smoothly tanned skin, and I nearly cry out as I wrap my death more tightly around my wrists.
Sudden dread spirals through me as it fights against my hold. The ribbons are a volatile force on their best days, but they’ve never felt so…insatiable. And after so many years of living with the pain, I don’t know that I’ve enough energy left to keep them subdued—to stop them from escaping my control entirely and consuming every bit of life Willa offers. How am I to survive the next few weeks in the woman’s presence without destroying us both?
“The devil only tempts people to sin, Darling,” I reply bitterly. “I am the sin itself.”
She narrows her eyes as if I mock her. If only she knew, it’s one of the first truly honest things I’ve said. The blood in my veins is proof enough—colored a sludge black, filled with the rot and horror and selfishness of the life I’ve lived.
Willa cocks her head, reading something on my face I don’t mean to give as my ribbons writhe over my skin. My muscles go taut at the raw sensation, and she reads that, too.
“Death isn’t a sin. It’s a promise,” she says with equal bitterness, eyes full of a challenge I don’t understand. And beneath it, something else flickers, something Idounderstand. A shadow of pain so deep only another who has felt it would ever recognize it.
My annoyance gives way to curiosity—is that what Willa fears more than death?Pain?
A sharp hunger pierces through me as my ribbons lurch toward her. What would it feel like to drink in someone else’s pain? To feel the depths ofheragony, rather than my own?
An iron wall slams down over her face as she watches my ribbons slither. As she notices my ravening hunger reflected in the frenetic twisting of my death and misreads it as simple want of her body. As if anything about my want could ever be simple.
Her hand goes to the sword I gifted her, her fingers wrapping around the hilt. “Dream on, Corpse King. If you touch me, I swear to god, I’ll cut your heart right out of your chest.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “Of that, I have no doubt.”
Feeling entirely unmoored and despising it, I place both hands on my knees and lean forward. Into her space, close enough to breath in her expelled air—to shift the scales and be the one to unbalanceher.
I drink in the widening of her eyes, the only sign of shock she allows to show. “Rest assured, Darling, I won’t touch you. But I’ll do exactly as you say…” I dig my teeth into my lower lip and set her with a searing gaze. “I’lldreamof it.”
