I used to enjoy the peaceful embrace of a lonely night, but my heart raced as I paced across Riyan’s bedroom. I chewed on my tongue as I walked back and forth, the flickering candlelight on the writing desk my only companion.
What was the point of all the defenses? Everyone but Riyan knew I was going to kneel before Derrick and give him the most powerful weapon he could possibly possess. How could Brietta still hold on to her plans of freedom knowing Derrick was just going to point me at her like a gilded sword?
What was the point ofanyof it? Of uncovering the lies, of fighting Alastar, or of trying to change the entire fabric of theDukedom? We had just caused damage left and right, to what result? Nothing. We gainednothing.
My white flame flared between its blue and violet companions and I let out a shallow breath. Fine, I should not blame Annalisa and Brietta.Ihad gained nothing. Seven years of manipulating Derrick had sent him into madness.
I had made him want me, I had made him need me, but I had done my job too well.
Without realizing it, I had taken Derrick and I’s mutual desperation for one another and weaved them together until I had forged our own bond. I had just wanted to make my own security, but instead of wrapping that threaded bond around Derrick’s wrists like I had planned, I had circled it around my own neck.
And because of my bargain, that bond between us would never sever.
All the magical flames raged within me. Cold clashed against warm and light flared against dark, but deep within that diamond in my heart was that flickering red ember—that infuriating little ember that would not let me hate Derrick despite everything he had done.
Would I still be unable to hate him after he snapped that collar onto my neck?
The memory of three low notes on a harp and a warm laugh against my cheek gave me my answer.
I yanked back the chair at the writing desk and sat down. I slammed parchment on the desktop and my magic cut the quill sharper than a needle.
I hated myself for what I felt, but hating my own emotions is what sent me down the path to forge that bond with Derrick in the first place. Maybe if I faced my actions, the next eternity might be bearable.
I dunked the quill in the pot of murky ink and wrote:
Midnight,
I am so sorry. For everything.
—Birdie
I slammed my eyes shut, but a tear still trickled past my eyelashes. The red ember pulsed in my heart four times as I kissed the parchment right over where I had written “Midnight.”
I had done it with every letter I had ever sent him. It was a bit of my own superstitious nonsense, a frivolous wish that maybe I could have won his heart.
I opened my eyes to see my teardrop had smeared the ink of the “M.” The ink swirled in the teardrop before it dried into the parchment, leaving behind a ruined smudge.
What was I doing? We were not schoolchildren any longer. He was the Duke and I was his slave. Wishing would do me no good.
And neither would any worthless letter.
My flames twisted as I focused on the tear that had mixed with the ink, and then I incinerated the parchment.
The door creaked open. I turned from the mound of smoking ash to the door where Riyan stood. He had not bothered to put on a shirt after his bath. His hair was still slightly damp from him washing away all the masonry dust, but the style I had weaved earlier was still intact.
The wall was repaired, but what did it matter?
The light from the candle in his hand flickered across his soft smile. “Do you want to talk?”
Did I need to talk? Yes. Did Iwantto talk?
“No,” I said softly.
“Me neither.” He set the candle on the desk and slowly lowered to his knees in front of me. He rested his head on my lap and let out a long, heavy breath as his shoulders dipped.
I could not help but laugh. “Comfy?”
He looked up at me and smiled against my thighs. “I’m just glad I could at least fix something I broke…for once.”
