“You cannot give up so easily,” the Dark God said. I expected annoyance. But his voice was oddly… flat? Quiet. It was always smooth, but this was almost… not gentle. The Dark God was not capable of it. But there was a different tenor to his voice, and it should have unnerved me.
I was just so damn tired.
His movements were near silent, so annoyingly perfect and graceful. But he was no longer sitting cross-legged on the bed.
I wasn’t giving up. But I was running out of energy to fight. Isanara was safe. Kyrelle was doomed no matter what I did. The gods would punish me soon for my absence from the gates. Maybe it would be better just to let them.
“You are lying to me.”
I’d thought I was too exhausted to be irritated, but I was wrong. He knew that even if I said I wasn’t giving up, I was contemplating lying down on the floor and closing my eyes and not opening them again.
“But you won’t.”
In some ways, it was easier. I did not have to find the right words to explain myself. He could see the mess inside of me and figure it out for himself. Maybe he would see what it was that made me so deeply unworthy of every place I tried to fit in.
“Do not insult me. I would not choose someone unworthy as my companion for eternity.”
Of course not. Why would he be concerned about my state of mind for my own sake? But when it was an affront to him, it was problematic.
“I am not called the Dark God without reason.”
He seemed determined to earn his name. But it wasn’t a name, really. It was a title. A description. None of the other gods were known solely by the gate over which they presided. His gate was only The Unknown. Surely he must have a name.
Only silence echoed in my head. Of course.
I’d been adrift since the altercation with Princess Margeaux. I should have felt triumphant. My power had answered my commands. I’d bested her, if only temporarily. And I’d navigated the entire situation without incurring the fae king’s wrath.
But the information that Auri had given me, coupled with the intensity of the debacle in the corridor, had left me twistedup in myself. For centuries, Maura had encouraged the darkness within me and demeaned every instinct. I’d done terrible things to fit her demands. I’d killed for her. Maimed. Ruined my sister Rylynn’s life.
Only to face a new reality. Maybe that darkness had not come from Maura and the Dark God after all. Maybe it had been inside me all along. And even worse… maybe I had always known.
Swirls of white danced outside the window. I did not even recall how I’d gotten there from the hearth. I was pacing again.
It was beginning to snow.
I reached out for Isanara. She always left when the Dark God appeared.You need to get inside.
The cold does not bother me,Isanara said. Her voice was clear. She was nearby.
You have an hour, and then I’m locking the window.It was an empty threat. We both knew it. But even if I lay down in the bed, I would not truly sleep until she was back.
Quiet, purposeful footsteps sounded behind me. The Dark God could move in silence if he wished. He was giving me a warning. I stared out at the swirling eddies of winter. He was right behind me. Close enough to touch, but not. Lingering just beyond where I could reach, like always.
“I wanted to kill her,” I whispered.
I’d felt the urge to kill before. But I’d never wanted it in my soul. I’d lost control before, but it had always felt terrible. But when I saw what Margeaux had done to my familiar, there was no hesitation. My power wanted to eviscerate her, and I wanted to let it. The feeling that I could was as heady as any alcohol or sexual peak.
“You are a witch,” the Dark God said. I felt his breath against my shoulder, where the neckline of my gown ended. It was warm.
“Maybe that is not the insult you think it is.” Because if I truly was evil… if I deserved all the things that had happened to me… then I deserved to be a witch—and his bride.
“It was not meant as an insult at all,” he said. The air shifted behind us. Had he lifted his hand? Was he caressing my arm, or was that my imagination? “Do not forget whose power flows in your veins.”
I shivered hard. “I never asked to be resurrected.”
The hair on my shoulder shifted, revealing more of my neck. But I still did not quite feel his touch. “You have chosen who to be every day of your life. Before and after your resurrection.” He leaned his head in to where my neck was exposed and inhaled. “You can continue to do so.”
I was so exposed, but still he had not touched me.
