It’s a shame he’s the fucking devil.
“I’d like to go to the dungeons,” I repeat once he’s inside the door.
“No,” he says dismissively. “We have a meeting.”
I freeze. A meeting? So far, I have yet to see Cora, or any visitors he’s been leaving me to go see. He’s been careful not to say anything around me that might give me some clue about the state of the kingdom. Theonly exception has been the tithe. But it’s not like he could do that without me. The citizens would have asked questions if Mae hadn’t been there.
“With whom?”
He leans against the foyer wall, surveying his nails. “It doesn’t matter. Go get ready,” he says, not even sparing a glance at me.
I plant my feet. “Who, Marik?”
He huffs a sigh of impatience as he picks something from his nail bed. “Cora. Get ready.”
My body moves without my permission, taking me to the bathroom. It’s pointless trying to fight it anymore, so I don’t. No matter how hard I scream internally, nothing ever happens. I have no control, and I’m beginning to hate myself for it. Logically, I know this is Marik’s fault. But I can’t help but blame myself for not being strong enough to fight it.
I watch my hand open the bathroom drawer to find the blade tucked under the washcloths. “As are you, as am I,” my lips murmur as I etch the mark into my forearm.
The first time Marik forced me to do this, my magic revolted in my skin. Ivan warned me of the signs of dark magic, and this reeked of it. As does the necklace that’s shackled around my throat. They both go against everything the Mother intended when she blessed us with magic. Black magic seeks to harm, to control, to manipulate. All must offer a sacrifice to wield it—and that sacrifice is often blood. And there is always a greater cost.
Being controlled by dark magic to do more dark magic…I wanted to shred my soul from my body. But now? I’ve done it so many times that it just feels like getting dressed. And that horrifies me even more.
With the sigil etched in my skin, Mae looks back at me in the mirror. She was always so beautiful.
I detest the sight of her. Because it’s not her. It’s me trapped in her body.
I walk from the bathroom on my own, a small victory. Marik still stands by the front door, picking lint from his black coat.
He looks up when he hears my footsteps. “My wife,” he says with a shit-eating, pearly-white grin that makes my skin crawl. He holds hisarm out to me, but before he can force me to loop my arm in his, I move forward and force myself to do it.
I’ve come to realize that it’s easier for me to just go along with Marik. No matter how hard I fight it, he can still force me to do whatever he wants. And as much as I hate to admit it, doing it myself is the only way I can have any semblance of control. Even if it’s still not my choice. But I try to tell myself it is. Sometimes it works. Mostly, it doesn’t.
His arm is cold against mine. Colder still is the smile on his face as he pulls me from the wing and into the nearly empty castle.
Marik’s guards refuse to look at me whenever we pass. He leads us to a private office on the backside of the castle. Two guards stand silently, one on each side of the door, faces sober and impassive. Marik’s hand brushes against the small of my back as he opens the door and ushers me inside the room. It makes me move faster.
Light filters through the floor-to-ceiling window along the back wall, landing on Cora’s silhouette. She turns as we enter.
Eyes white as bone land on me. A chill spreads through me. I want to run. Far.
Two armchairs sit side-by-side in front of her desk. Marik takes a seat on the right, his lanky frame somehow dwarfed by the oversized chair. He gestures to the chair beside him.
“Sit,” he commands, but his invisible touch is absent. I play nice and do it anyway.
“Hello, Elle,” Cora says coolly, her gaze piercing my very soul.
My entire body is rigid with fear and loathing. “Fuck you,” I spit.
She sighs and leans back in her chair. The sunlight dances along her glossy black hair, and it feels odd that the sun would deign to shine upon her. “Didn’t anybody teach you how to treat your elders?”
Anger is a constant companion. I hold on to it with every ounce of strength I can muster. It’s so much better than the empty void of depression. “Fuck. You.”
Her eyes narrow to slits.
“Ignore her,” Marik says coolly. “Let’s discuss.”
“You think it’s a good idea to have her in this meeting?” Cora asks,gaze still fixed on me.
