Cruel Beauty

by Rosamund Hodge

“I’m the demon lord, remember?” He brushed hair out of my face, making me flinch back. “I wouldn’t kill you for half so good a reason. But you have to admit you are quite a Pandora, albeit with less selfish motives. Just last night you opened a jar of your own.”

  For a heartbeat I could feel the shadows bubbling through my skin, though I sat safe in sunlight.

  “Yes, and how did those demons get behind that door?” I demanded. “Or behind the sky and out into our world, if they’re all locked away with Pandora.”

  “Did I say ‘all’? Zeus let one or two remain outside, to further humble the race of men.”

  “One or two?”

  “Or three, or four, or ten thousand. But not enough to destroy mankind, so Pandora’s doom did achieve something.”

  I rubbed my arms and looked away at the horizon. “The darkness eating you last night. It was different.”

  “Oh, me, I just don’t like the dark.”

  “You—” I accidentally glanced at him and looked straight into his eyes. I remembered the fear in those eyes as he said, Please, and I jerked my head away, throat clenched.

  “What? Do you think I almost died? I will have you know, I am not so easy to kill as that.” I was staring at the grass, but I heard him shift. “Or do you think that was the first time I ever got caught by the darkness?”

  “No,” I muttered, though I had not thought about it before.

  “And don’t tell me you’re sorry, because that would make you a very pitiful assassin.”

  “I’m not an assassin!” My head snapped up and I saw that he was kneeling right beside me.

  “Oh. I’m sorry. That would make you a very pitiful saboteur who carries a knife for nonviolent purposes.” His crimson cat eyes were laughing at me.

  I smiled. “Then it’s just as well that I’m not sorry. I wish I’d left you longer.”

  “Well, that’s a pity.” He leaned toward me. His collarbone was damp, and I realized suddenly that my dress still clung to me in pale, damp folds. “Because I had just been thinking of ways you could make it up to me.”

  He touched my chin with a finger. The air was still and hot in my throat.

  Abruptly his hand dipped down to pull the key out of my bodice. He twirled it as he sat back, laughing, then hung it on one of the belt strapped across his chest.

  “You—” I choked out. Then I lunged at his throat.

  He blocked me easily with one arm, but we both tumbled over; he landed on his back with me on top of him.

  “You see?” he said. “Not at all a good assassin.”

  “Shut up,” I snarled, and stopped his mouth with a kiss.

  I stunned him for only a moment; then he locked his arms around me and kissed me back as fiercely as the sunlight beating down on my back, and for a few minutes we said nothing at all. I didn’t know why I had ever felt that he could dissolve or unmake me; this kiss felt like coming alive, and I was helpless only in the way that I was helpless to stop my heart from beating.

  Finally I let him go.. We still lay side by side, only a breath apart; his right hand was under my head, and his left hand embraced my shoulder. It was not unlike the lazy mornings when I refused to get out of bed. I knew that he was the enemy of me, my house, and my whole world; I knew that he would likely have no mercy for me and I must certainly have none for him. And I was prepared to rise and fight him, but not yet. Not just yet.

  Surely I could lie in his embrace another moment, listening to his steady breathing, my own heart racing on ahead. Surely I could drowse a little longer in this sunlit dream of happiness where I felt loved and safe.

  He traced a finger through my hair. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a wife with hair this long and dark. You won’t need to be ashamed when you are laid out with the others.”

  But dreams, of course, always ended.

  I shoved away his hand and sat up. “Don’t count your trophies before they’re dead.”

  He sat up as well. “And here I thought I was giving you a compliment.”

  “Is that why you take wives? So they’ll look pretty, all laid out in a row?”

  He looked away. “I take them on the order of my masters,” he said flatly. “They want to be sure I know that nobody can ever guess my name.”

  The honesty of the words made my breath stutter. I looked at the ground, not wanting to see him in a moment when I might pity him, and then I finally noticed it: a silent whisper of a heartbeat, sensed instead of heard. It hummed in the ground, rippled through the air, and I realized—

  “Yes,” said Ignifex, “this is the Heart of Earth.”

  I blinked at him. “What’s that?”

  “Oh, don’t bother looking innocent. I could draw your sigils for you.”

  “Then why did you bring me here?”

  “It’s pretty.”

  “You don’t think our plan will work.”

  “I’d give it rather low odds.”

  I leaned forward, hoping that for once his gloating temperament would be useful. “Why not? Explain to me how I’m stupid, husband.”

  He poked my nose. “You’re not stupid and neither is your plan. But the Heart of Air is utterly beyond your reach. And your people have not even begun to grasp the nature of this house.”

  “Then tell me.” I tilted my head. “Or are you scared?”

  “No,” he said placidly, and abruptly dropped to the ground, resting his head in my lap. “Tired.”

  I swallowed. The easy comfort of the gesture touched me in a way his kisses had not. I couldn’t understand why he kept acting like he trusted me.

  “I had a long night,” he added, looking up at me from under his lashes.

  “I told you I’m not sorry,” I growled.

  “Of course not.” He smiled with his eyes shut.

  “You deserve all that and more. It made me happy to see you suffer. I would do it all over again if I could.” I realized I was shaking as the worlds tumbled out of me. “I would do it again and again. Every night I would torment you and laugh. Do you understand? You are never safe with me.” I drew a shuddering breath, trying to will away the sting of tears.

  He opened his eyes and stared up at me as if I were the door out of Arcadia and back to the true sky. “That’s what makes you my favorite.” He reached up and wiped a tear off my cheek with his thumb. “Every wicked bit of you.”

  Nobody had ever looked at me like that, and certainly not after seeing the poison I kept locked up inside. Not even Shade, because I had always tried to be kind to him.

  I nearly kissed Ignifex again, but I knew that if I did now I would never stop. I would never be able to fight him, and I owed it to Astraia, Shade, Mother, the whole world to break this creature’s power.

  So I shoved him off my lap and stood, because if I held him any longer, I didn’t know if I would be able to betray him.

  “More fool you,” I said. “I’m going to keep looking for a way to stop you.” And I strode out through the door before he could say another word.

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  15

  I spent most of the day in my room, trying to nap. I planned to be up exploring the whole night, and I wanted to be as alert as possible, so I could avoid any more disasters.

  But sleep did not come easily. One thought snaked around and around my head: I kissed him. Not against my will, not for the sake of my mission, but simply because I desired it, I had kissed the monster who governed our world.

  He took wives on the orders of his masters. They wanted him to know that he could never be free. They had burnt the holes in the sky, and they let the demons—Children of Typhon—ravage people against his will.

  If he was telling the truth. I wanted to believe him, but every story I’d ever heard agreed he was a deceiver. And even if Ignifex was less evil than I’d thought—even if he was, in some mad fashion, as innocent
as Shade—that still did not excuse me.

  Last night I had kissed Shade. Last night he had as good as said that he loved me, and I had thought I loved him in return. When I thought of him—his rare smiles, his gentle kindness, the peace in his touch—I still wanted him.

  I rolled over and buried my face in the pillow. The sunlight’s warmth had faded from my hair, but I could still remember it burning across my back. I could almost feel the heat of Ignifex’s body beneath mine. I wanted him too.

  What kind of woman was I?

  Eventually I fell asleep. I woke, heavy-eyed, with hair smashed into my face, and went to dinner on my own so that Shade wouldn’t summon me. I didn’t think I could bear to see him yet. Ignifex did not arrive at the dinner table, which was odd, but I ate in silence and decided that the more he ignored me, the better. Then I went back to my room to wait for nightfall.

  “Aren’t you going to wear a nightgown?”

  I whirled and saw Ignifex leaning against the doorframe. Once again, he wore the dark silk pajamas.

  “I was hoping for lace,” he went on, “but surely you could manage something sheer at least. I put plenty in your wardrobe.”

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded, gripping one of the caryatid bedposts. It didn’t matter how much I had reproached myself earlier that day; I wanted to close the distance between us.

  “Spending the night.” He strode inside. “Look on the bright side, you might manage to strangle me in my sleep.”

  Behind him Shade flowed in—still a simple shadow—dragging a bundle of candles, and I stiffened. Did he know about the kiss? Had Ignifex boasted to him?

  “Why?” I managed to ask.

  “Because you have a nice lap.” He rested a hand on the face of a caryatid and leaned toward me. “And because I had a strange little feeling that you were planning to get into trouble tonight.”

  “I’m always planning trouble,” I said. I could feel every contour of the space between us, and I wondered if this weakness was visible, if it glimmered off my body like an oily film on water.

  “It’s this or I lock you up,” he said cheerfully. “There are twenty minutes left until dark; you know I can do it.”

  Shade was already lighting candles around the edges of the room. I could see his quick movements from the corner of my eye, but I didn’t dare look at him because I also couldn’t let Ignifex know how much I cared for his captive.

  I had to remember that both Shade and I were captives. I lifted my chin and met Ignifex’s gaze.

  “Don’t you think I might leave you again?”

  His teeth flashed in a smile. “I don’t know, will you?”

  The last candle flickered to life. Shade slid out the doorway, and a bit of the tension left me. At least now he couldn’t watch.

  “Only if I think it will kill you,” I said.

  And that was how I ended up with the Gentle Lord in my bed, his head resting in my lap. He looked even younger when he slept—and since his eyes were closed, he looked human. I stroked his hair lightly; it was soft and silky as the fur of our old cat Penelope, and I wondered if he ever purred.

  They called him—among other things—the silver-tongued deceiver, because he could trick men into believing any falsehood without ever saying a lie. I could not trust his words, much less his kisses. But he had saved me from the shadows, he had clung to me for comfort in the night, and he had brought me to the field of flowers . . . perhaps not entirely for the sake of getting the key back.

  That’s what makes you my favorite, he had said. I knew it was pathetic—more than that, obscene—but those simple words, which might easily be a lie, made me want to care for him.

  But what I wanted didn’t matter, and neither did what he might or might not feel for me. I had thought about this during my solitary dinner. It didn’t even matter whether he willingly made bargains or not, nor whether the demons attacked people at his command or against his will. What mattered was saving Arcadia, and making sure that no one else would die like my mother or Damocles, that the Children of Typhon would not ravage anyone else like Elspeth’s brother. And I was sure that Ignifex had not lied when he said that he had masters, who set laws for his existence and ordered him to take wives. He could not possibly hold Arcadia against their will.

  If I wanted to undo the Sundering, I would have to defeat not just Ignifex but his masters as well.

  No doubt Ignifex could not directly defy them, any more than Shade could speak his secrets. But Shade had helped me still, and surely Ignifex would be even more willing to bend rules.

  I realized I had been stroking his hair for some time now. I stopped, but I couldn’t resist sliding my fingertips down his cheek. Without waking, he leaned into the touch.

  Against all reason, he seemed to trust me. I had an idea now, for how I could use that trust against him. If I was any daughter to the Resurgandi, any sister to Astraia, I surely would.

  “Shade,” I whispered. “Shade!”

  I called for several minutes before he appeared, condensing into being right beside me. I had prepared myself for this moment, but when he looked at us, I still went hot and cold at once with shame. His face was blank, but when his gaze flickered to Ignifex, I thought I saw pain in the set of his mouth.

  “Why are you kind to him?” he asked, and I flinched. He didn’t know the half of it.

  It didn’t matter if Shade hated me. I had told myself this over and over, but I still had to choke down explanations and excuses.

  “It’s useful,” I said stiffly. “I’m still going to defeat him, you know.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized they sounded both defensive and condescending—but it didn’t matter. I plunged on, “I know you can’t tell me much, but listen and nod yes or no if you can. When the darkness was burning him, you tried to leave him, so clearly you don’t lack the will to hurt him. But you haven’t killed him yet, though in nine hundred years you must have learnt how.”

  Shade watched me, his face a pale mask.

  “You aren’t just bound to obey him, are you? You’re bound to do him no harm, and probably to protect him as well from any permanent damage, because if there were such an easy loophole you would have used it against him. Am I right?”

  After a moment, Shade nodded, and now there was clear anger on his face.

  “Good.” I could feel my heartbeat speeding up with each breath. “I want you to bring me the knife that he took away from me, or I swear by the river Styx that I will claw out first his eyes and then my own.”

  He made an abortive half movement, then stared at me.

  “I will not harm him with the knife,” I said. “But if you don’t bring it, I will fulfill my oath, and it will be your fault for making me.”

  “. . . I don’t believe you,” he whispered.

  I shrugged. “Or maybe I won’t. Then I’ll be forsworn, and you know how the gods treat oath breakers.”

  He stared at me another moment, then vanished abruptly. I looked down at Ignifex. My heart ran as fast and cold as a snowmelt river. If I had misjudged Shade—or Ignifex—

  But a few moments later, Shade returned with the knife clenched in his hand.

  “Thank you,” I said, holding out a hand. “I have a plan. I promise.”

  Shade stayed just out of reach, watching me with his bright blue eyes, set in his colorless reflection of Ignifex’s face—but again, as in the Heart of Water, he looked like the original, the one that mattered. The only one I should love. I wished the darkness could devour me so I would be hidden from his gaze.

  “I think,” I said desperately, “it’s the only way to save us all.”

  Shade nodded slowly, as if accepting an inevitable doom. “Everything you give him, he will use against you,” he said. “Do what you must. But don’t trust him.”

  I swallowed. “I don’t.”

  “Don’t pity him.”

  My heart thumped painfully; I was acutely aware of his warm weight on my lap.

  �
��I won’t,” I said, because I had always been able to hate everyone.

  He held out the knife; as I took it, he leaned forward and kissed me, quickly but fiercely. “Don’t let him hurt you,” he said, and vanished.

  The kiss burned on my lips. Even after I had saved his captor and made him help, Shade still worried about my safety. Still loved me. And I still loved him too, if I could dare to call this selfish feeling love.

  But kissing him with Ignifex’s head resting in my lap, his eyes closed in trust—or madness, which seemed just as likely—made guilt crawl under my skin like worms.

  My hand clenched on the knife. Only one thing mattered. I had to remember that at all costs.

  When Ignifex’s eyes opened the next morning, I had the knife at his throat.

  “Good morning, husband,” I said pleasantly, though my whole body hummed with the cold, droning song of fear. “Would you like to learn your name?”

  I felt his body tense, but his face remained impressively calm.

  “Yes,” I added. “It’s the virgin knife and you’ve neglected to do anything about my virgin hands, so I could kill you right now.”

  But my virgin hands were shaking. I didn’t know I could kill him; I had only guessed, because of how quickly he always took the knife away from me. In a moment I might know that I was right, that against all odds, the lie my family had told to Astraia was absolute truth.

  Or in a moment he might laugh, take the knife away, and explain how I was just as helpless and deluded as on my wedding day.

  He didn’t smile. “I knew I was forgetting something.”

  I let out my breath very slowly. Relief didn’t feel like anything: the pent-up fear and waiting were still right there, burning through my veins, trembling in my hands.

  “Tell me the truth,” I said. At least my voice was steady. “You want to be free, don’t you?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Why do I suspect you’re about to offer me a bargain?”

  “It’s a pretty good one. I’ll give you the knife, and we’ll look for your name together.”

  “We’re still enemies,” he said.

  “Of course we are. And I’ll keep trying to defeat you, and you’ll keep trying to stop me. But in the meantime, we’ll look for your name.”