“You’re growing stronger,” she says. I open my eyes, watching the flame grow brighter. “The rot is still there, but so is freshness, too.”
I hesitate, then say, “I haven’t been holding myself back.”
“That’s how it begins.”
We lapse into silence.
Finally, she says, “It was a moment of desperation.”
“The king questioned me afterward. I was forced to speak truths, and I could’ve spoken this one. I could’ve revealed what you had done.”
“But you did not. You are too intelligent for that.”
I can feel my fury beneath my skin, like a fire spreading through a forest. But Kassandra collects hers in an icy stare: a calm defiance that has me shivering.
“Dominik banned peach from my wing,” she says. “I managed to buy that perfume from a smuggler decades ago.”
“Where’s the bottle now?”
“I’ve hidden it. I couldn’t give you any magic tonight. Couldn’t call you back to the House of Illusion. And I couldn’t be there. So I drenched you in harmless body oil, a poison made just for him.”
Perhaps Kassandra is redacting her reasoning. Perhaps this was her true intention all along. Either way, I do not care.
“I could have died,” I say, and to my surprise, I sound…hurt.
“I know.” She takes a shuddering breath. “And for that, I am sorry.”
“I do not forgive you,” I say, then bite out: “Mistress.”
Her eyes narrow. “It is not forgiveness I truly seek.”
“What do you seek, then?”
“Relief.”
I blink, stunned at the emotion in me she has also named.Exhausted, the candle flame dies. In the dark, there is our breathing, the patter of light rain outside. The wounds on my shoulder throb. The moments stretch on.
“You were right, earlier,” she says. “He must be stopped.”
It wasn’t the worst plan I’ve ever heard of—but I’ll never admit that to her. I am tired of being a pawn, thinking I can see the entire game from my spot on the board. Only the High Fae can see everything, all at once, for they drew the lines. And I think I am being clever by walking those lines and trying to make a pawn out of my mistress in turn. It hasn’t gotten either of us very far. Perhaps it’s time to swap pawns for partners.
“Do you truly want to stop your brother?” I ask.
The covers shift, fabric against skin, and Kassandra reaches for my arm.
“Say what you want to say.” Her nails graze my skin.
“Why did you win with Benji when you could’ve won with Briar and not faced so many consequences?” I ask.
“Very demanding.”
“I risk my neck with this conversation.”
“So do I,” she says, and it is true. She sighs, her hand retreating. “I won with the boy because he needed it. Because Dominik would’ve punished me for winning either way, so I thought, may as well win as egregiously as possible. And because you asked me to.”
The boy giggling as rings dissipated on his skin had been the most beautiful thing I had seen and heard in years. If there is any chance of that happening again, then it is worth it. Jeremee and my mother would warn against teaming up with my tormentor, playing against the High Fae using one of their own. Yet I have already made enemies of the Upper Court. Perhaps it’s time to become their enemy, too.
It would be a reluctant alliance, no better than a debt collector, aligning with the fae. But I am out of options.
