The horrible weight of the distance I'm keeping between us pinches my heart. All I want is to be close to Shadow. I want him in me, around me, always by my side.
But I didn't do this.
Hedid this.
The power I felt a few moments ago flips on its head. I invite feelings of satisfaction at having exerted my punishment. Instead, there is only a hollow sensation that eats away at me from the inside.
This is wrong. Things shouldn't be like this, and despite my good sense, my logic, I'm ready to cave and forgive everything.
My lips part, ready to beg Shadow for things to go back to how they were between us. To pretend things can be the same.
The door swings wide. Two women glide into the room, oil-like silk gowns undulating around them.
I recoil, covering myself with my hands. The two don't even blink at the scene they have walked in though my face turns hot and nerves spark in my stomach at the mess on the chair and Shadow still kneeling. It wouldn't be hard to figure out what has been taking place.
Their gowns sweep up and over their heads like black swim caps. Though I’m not sure that isn’t actually their flesh.
One of the women coolly regards Shadow before turning back to me. "We must prepare you for the celebration."
"Must the Umbral stay for this?" the other asks, her brow arching with evident displeasure.
Shadow rises, a taut, controlled motion, his face a mask of barely contained fury. "I’ll let you prepare," he bites out. "But I’ll stay nearby."
Then, he crowds close to me, his head dropping to my ear. His warm breath spills over my skin eliciting gooseflesh to rise painfully in its wake. "You think you can keep me from you forever, Evie?" His voice is a raw, trembling whisper. "You think I’ll let you walk away from me? You think I’ll let you go? You’re mine. You belong to me."
I fight the urge to shut my eyes, to give into him.
"I’ll walk away whenever I want," I whisper, forcing cold hard command into my words, unblinking over his shoulder. "I’ll survive. I don’t need you."
The words I deliver are like plunging a dagger into my own gut, slicing me up into a gory agonizing mess.
Shadow whips away and leaves. With each inch stretching between us, I feel our tenuous connection stretch and weaken.
My voice muscles its way up my throat to call him back, but I strangle it down.
The door slams shut, and with it the last bit of connection we had shatters and falls on the ground.
His words echo through me with menacing promise.
You think I’ll let you walk away from me? You’re mine.
I’m done with Shadow.
But apparently he isn’t done with me.
After they hurried Shadow out of the room, the two women, whom I realize are handmaidens, immediately begin preparing for the celebration. One of them turns to me, an almost maternal firmness in her voice.
"You must rest before the celebration," she says, gesturing to the massive bed, dominating the room.
"I’m fine," I insist, but even as the words leave my lips, I feel the wobble in my legs. The atmosphere is taking its toll on me, and each breath scratches at my throat.
"Sleep," she commands gently. "We will wake you when it’s time."
Though part of me wants to argue, a wave of exhaustion crashes over me. I settle into the bed, which, despite its alien design, cradles me like a baby in the womb. The last thing I remember is the quiet murmuring of the handmaidens as they prepare my dress. I tell myself I have plenty of time. I’ll just close my eyes for a few minutes.
Darkness claims me almost immediately.
When they wake me, my throat is raw, and each inhale scratches like sandpaper, though the rest has restored some of my strength. I swallow back a cough and push myself up, feeling the weight of lost time but reassuring myself with my watch that I still have more than enough time. For a party, at least.
