I summon the waitstaff with a wave of my hand. A male deer hybrid in an all-black uniform steps forward, pouring chilled water into two glasses.
“You did have a choice, you know,” I say. “I wasn’t going to force you to come.”
She doesn’t respond. Instead, she peers up at the male hybrid. “Thank you,” she says to him. It sounds like a plea, not a sentiment of gratitude.
He doesn’t look at her, doesn’t answer at all. “They’ve all been instructed not to respond,” I explain, and her face falls as the hybrid disappears.
I take a sip of water as I try to think about what to say. I’m not sure what I was expecting tonight. Although we’ve had dinner before, this feels different for some reason. I still don’t know why I invited her to dinner, or how I fooled myself into thinking it would go well. The silence blossoms between us, and I try not to look at her, but it’s like my eyes act before my brain can.
I fidget with the cloth napkin in my lap. “Everyone on the castle grounds is aware of who you really are. I don’t think there’s any need for you to be locked in your wing anymore. You’re free to leave it if you would like, but a guard will need to escort you.”
I smile, expecting her to be happy at this news. But she doesn’t return it. The doors to the kitchen open and the male waiter enters again, two steaming bowls in his hands. He sets them down in front of us, then exits silently. I pick up my spoon and stir the liquid inside. Soup, some kind of creamy chowder. I set the spoon back down, uninterested in the first course.
Elle doesn’t touch hers either.
“I think it’s a chowder,” I offer. She doesn’t acknowledge it. I clear my throat and pull at the tie around my neck that suddenly feels too tight. “Elle, there’s something you should know.” Again, no acknowledgement. I continue, “The witches are to become an official High House. The High Council voted on it this morning. There will be an announcement and a ball to commemorate their new status.”
Her jaw tenses. I peek down the bond the necklace gifts me. The simmering heat of her hatred is all I can feel.
Logically, I know that my actions have been despicable. I know that I have manipulated not one, but two innocent females to steal their crowns. I know that what I’ve done has resulted in the deaths of many. However, feeling empathy, compassion, or sympathy has never been easy for me.
Asmo was always better at that. He used to lecture me about morals and integrity and blah, blah, blah. It was easier to shut that part off and do whatever was necessary to get the results I wanted. That’s all that matters. Results. Winning.
But now, as I peer into Elle’s mind, I can feel the way all of this has impacted her. And it makes me want to…apologize. Me on my knees in front of her, begging for her—I blink the image away.
“Why?” Elle’s voice croaks from the other end of the table. She stares up at me, hands still in her lap, soup growing cold.
“It’s complicated,” I answer as I stir the soup in my bowl.
“No,” she says, eyes like honey boring into eyes like ash. “Why am I allowed to walk freely now? Why all of a sudden?”
“Cora told the High Houses that Mae is dead.” I take another spoonful of soup. But it’s hard to swallow as Elle’s horror floods my mind. I set the spoon down with as much grace as I can musterand look back up at her. Her face is devoid of any color, her freckles seeming to pop even more against her ghost-white cheeks.
“But she’s not…Is she?”
I shrug. “I have no earthly idea.” The cold flood of horror is now replaced by that raging heat again. I tilt my head. “Why are you angry?”
She stills. “What do you mean?”
I ignore the question. “What if I told you Maewasdead?” The slow crawl of confusion spreads down the bond. “That I found her body washed up along the river that cuts through this very mountain?” I smile as the cold returns, horror joining once more, a familiar friend. “What if I told you that Cora hanged her body on the flag posts in the turrets?”
Her face blanches, and yes—there it is, the full force of her horror, the darkness of oblivion.
I used to loathe the feeling, but I now relish it. I am horror’s master.
And what if I told you I was lying?I whisper into her mind, delighting at the flash of anger, at the pink that returns to her cheeks. A flicker of uncertainty dampens my delight, but only for a moment. Pissing her off is the only way to keep her from slipping back into her shell.
She shoves away from the table and rises. “You’re a monster,” she spits at me.
I lean back in my chair as she storms away from me. She’s right.
I am a monster, for I was forged in the oblivion where horror resides.
Chapter 23
MAE
Someone has lockedme inside my room. The handle only twists by a fraction, then stops. I consider beating on the door for someone to let me out but think better of it. That would defeat the entire purpose of trying to sneak out.
