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I look into her pale eyes. My own eyes are starting to sting in an unfamiliar way. There’s pressure in my skull, and a sound like rushing air in my ears. There’s a beautiful woman in my lap who’s telling me she wants me, but she’s leaving anyway. She’s waiting for me to decide what to do.

Am I selfish enough to take her offer?

I am.

I wrap my arms around her and pull her against my chest.

Aveline makes a small sound against the mask and holds on to my shoulders as I gather her up and stand with her. Her legs come around my waist, and her long skirt falls over my arms. She’s light and warm, and she smells like my damnation.

No woman has ever touched me like this. In all my life, in every place on Alia Terra where I’ve hidden, no woman has pressed her lips even remotely close to my monstrous mouth or put her arms around my neck and her whole body against mine.

My body does things I have no name for. Heat gathers in my belly and spreads down. Instincts that I never needed before flood my veins, urging me to grip her hips tighter and press mine up against her. I feel myself harden for her. She gasps, then giggles, as if she’s not surprised at all. As if this is what she wants.

I carry her out of the music room, down the corridor, into the living room, and head straight for my bedroom. I’m moving fast, as if afraid this dream is going to end before I get to see and have more of her. If she wanted me to stop now… I would. But I would die in the seconds after.

Which reminds me that this is temporary. Aveline in my arms, in my house, keeping me company by the hearth, reading as I compose music for us. It will never happen again. These are my last moments with her. And once I’ve had this, I won’t be able be here anymore, live here, under this roof.

A plan forms in my mind.

Tomorrow, I’ll show her the tunnel. I’ll take her over the lake, to the shore, and set her free. When she’s safely gone, I’ll turn my song against myself. If I can heal, I can break. I’ll sing sickness and degradation into my own body until I’m weak, a husk, until I give my last breath.

Yes, this feels right. It’s decided.

I’ve lived long enough and caused enough harm. After Aveline, there’s no reason to cling to this existence. Without me, Nivallia will finally heal, truly heal, and be free of my influence. They will forget me too, as if I never was.

I push the bedroom door open with my shoulder and carry her in. She kisses the grille again as I cross the threshold. My arms shake so hard that I’m afraid I’ll drop her.

I’m a monster – strong, untouchable, immortal if I choose it.

Aveline makes me feel like I’m nothing.

Chapter Sixteen

Aveline

Mordred lays me down on his bed slowly. The black curtains of the canopy hang open on either side of us, and the lamp on his desk gives enough light that we can see each other. Once I’m on my back, he pulls away, hovering over me on his hands and knees, looking at my face, searching for something I can’t name. Maybe he thinks I’ll change my mind.

But I won’t. Not about this, and not about leaving tomorrow.

We aren’t touching anywhere anymore; we’re only breathing in each other’s space. I’ve seen a man not know what to do with me before, though not often. I’m not a virgin. Before the fire, I was young, beautiful, and wanted, and the Lyric House was full of dark corners. I found my way into some of them with a few of the male performers and a couple of the stage boys. No one knew, or everyone knew and no one said anything. I never saw a reason to refuse myself what half of Rosemere wanted from me. Those men mostly knew what they were doing.

Mordred doesn’t. He told me there was no one before me. Ever. I believed him then, and I believe him even more now.

“I know this is your first time,” I say. I try to keep my voice low, though my own volume is a wild guess to me. “I’ll make it good for you.”

He lifts one hand from the bedding and signs yes. Then he places it back beside my shoulder and waits.

I smile. At the very least, I have his consent.

I slide out from under him and stand up. The gown ties at the back, so I reach behind me and pull the laces loose while he watches me with intense focus. The gown drops around my feet, and I pull the thin shift over my head and let that fall too. I step into the light and let him look at me.

I turn my right side toward him on purpose. The skin runs smooth from my temple all the way to my thigh. I hid this side from every stranger, but there’s nothing left to hide. Thanks to him. He deserves to see what he’s done for me. I feel like myself again, the woman on the posters, the one men waited for at the stage door. I’m going to have this night no matter what comes after it.

He sits back on his heels. His head tilts to the side, his hands rest open on his thighs, and he doesn’t reach for me. I’ve watched him look at his scores with less care than this.

“Will you let me undress you?” I ask, moving toward the bed.

He draws back. His hands come up between us, and I think he’s going to sign no, but instead, after a moment’s hesitation, he signs leave the mask on.