Suri returned to work, leaving Nes to wade through her ownemotions. She sat there, the liquor untouched in front of her, for what was surely hours. She felt the ebb and flow of the den’s patrons as they filled seats then slowly emptied them.
The longer she stared at shot of liquor, the more appealing it became. She’d never been much of a drinker. It had to be worth something, though, if Toran had so desperately wanted it.
She wondered how many drinks it would take for her not to feel the loss of him. She downed the shot. Felt nothing. But she didn’t bother Suri for more. There was already a bad taste in her mouth.
Eventually, the raucousness died down around her, patrons leaving, Suri heading to bed, until Nes was the only one left. She climbed up from her stool and lay down on the bar, like a body in a casket, set afloat on the sea. She closed her eyes.
The night felt long and wide. Like the gaping mouth of a cave. She imagined the stars traipsing across the dark sky and skipping onto the rolling rooftops, pinpricks of dim light so easily lost between the tiles. She wondered what would happen if she swallowed the stars. If she pulled them from their posts and plopped them in her mouth. If, after she swallowed, she would glow. Not the green gleam magic gave off, but a luminescence so bright and pure it could wash away the taint inside her for good.
She’d seen such luminescence once before. Not of stars, but of something just as grand. As a child, she’d watched her companion flash with a blinding light so pure black had turned to white. That had been a time she’d felt whole.
Her stomach lurched, and something inside tugged on her gut. They were just thoughts. She couldn’t turn them into action no matter how much she wanted to. She couldn’t change who she was. Who the world had made her, who the world had forced her to become.
Nes sighed and pulled her feet flat against the bar.
She felt the hours pass, neither fast nor slow, but a steady waning of the night. The Siren’s Hair was quiet but for the light, rhythmic tap ofsomeone on the second floor and the whistle of wind under the crack in the door. It was strong enough to carry the scent of the ocean with it.
The thud of a heavy boot sounded. At last, Toran had come down.
An eagerness stirred within her. She made her breath low and deep to feign sleep even as her heart thudded faster.
She wanted him to retract his last words. Say he was wrong, that he was an ass, that he could love her—did love her—even if she didn’t love him yet. She wanted him to fold her in his arms and whisper everything she’d ever wanted to hear.
Footsteps crossed the floor, nearing her still form. She felt their vibrations in a twitch up her spine. Toran stopped beside her hips. She didn’t peek at the broad chest she knew she’d see. She filled her lungs with a steady breath, then let it out slowly. She waited.
Something cool and smooth flicked the skin at her neck as a gruff voice hissed, “Thought you fooled me, huh,Witch?”
Part III
The Prey
“ ‘See?’ the Goddess intoned. ‘This is the problem with equals. Both are predator. Both are prey.’ ”
—The lost holy book of Nephele: Great Goddess of All,
Book II, Section VI, Lines17–18
32
Nes
When Nes was very little, she thought magic was…well, magical.
She thought it was a beautiful—albeit powerful—part of nature. Like a storm. Crackling with lightning and soaring with the quake of thunder, she believed the trees when they told her magic should be revered. She believed a lot of things when she was young.
She’d been fourteen the first time she deliberately killed a man. She hadn’t planned to kill him, but when he’d forced her into a forgotten alley, ordered her to stay quiet and wait for a slow death, magic had exploded out of her. It struck the man only once. But once was all the magic needed to slash his throat all the way around.
A silent, killing blow. The magic of the Witch.
She didn’t feel guilty about what she’d done. She knew what he would have done to her. But she did feel afraid. Not of the murder or her power, but of the fact that she’d liked it. She liked what the magic had done.
For so long, she’d kept her magic at bay, never letting it out. Never giving in out of fear. Fear that her magic would betray her as it had that day in the Disputed Land when she was six. But the release of it when she was fourteen had been so much more than gratifying. It had been exhilarating. She wanted more. The murder had barely touched the rim of her power.
So she’d made a decision that day. She swore she wouldn’t be like all the Witches who came before her. She would not be the magic’s host.
She would be its prison. And she would never surrender the key.
Captain Fell’s bladefelt identical to that of the man from the alley all those years ago. Cold, unyielding, and poised to run blazing hot should he will it. She imagined her own blade must have felt the same against Keifer Harrow’s neck before he chose to warm the steel with his blood.
