by Sarina Dorie
The slow enunciation of each word Thatch spoke stretched out like torture in my ears. “As the bargain states, I have remained impartial. What do I need to do to prove to you I have kept myself indifferent from the temptations of love?”
The queen leaned toward the king, and they whispered.
Thatch tapped his foot. His expression remained cool and collected.
Was he truly impartial? All those times he’d smiled at me—fondly, I’d thought—like a friend, was that all an act to convince me he cared when he truly didn’t? Hadn’t he done this because he had wanted to save me from the Silver Court? Because he . . . loved me? If not romantically, then as a friend? As his ward?
My chest tightened. The misery in my heart pushed out into my veins, each pulse propelling sorrow into every fiber of my being.
I kept trying to catch Elric’s eye, but he wouldn’t look at me. I took his hand. “I’m sorry.”
He gave it a quick squeeze before letting it go. He said nothing.
“A demonstration of my indifference perhaps?” Thatch held out a hand to me. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Clarissa, come here.”
I shook my head. Elric closed his eyes. I didn’t want to keep hurting him.
“Clarissa, do you trust me?” Thatch’s smile was stiff, unreadable.
“I don’t know.”
He beckoned me closer.
I didn’t want to go to him. There was no doubt in my mind he would do something cruel. He had to show his indifference for me. Elric nudged me toward Thatch.
Reluctantly, I took Thatch’s hand, watching him warily. He stroked my fingers again, all tenderness and smiles.
I hated that he knew me well enough to make me forget myself and give all control over to him. Had I been practicing my exercises, remained under his tutelage instead of Elric’s, perhaps I would have been able to resist. But he must have suspected I hadn’t—or suspected I would go along with this in order to regain the upper hand in the contract. I didn’t want to trust him, but Felix Thatch was my only hope.
“Would a man who holds a woman in esteem be able to hurt her dispassionately and without remorse if he loved her?” Thatch asked.
“No,” Elric said. “And you will not hurt her.”
Had Thatch chosen this tactic because he knew pain was my weakness? Or was it because he thought I could block pain as he’d shown me in our lessons? If it was the latter, there was hope he had chosen this because he cared about me. It showed he had planned this. If it was the former, he truly was indifferent.
The gray storm of Thatch’s eyes met mine. For half a second, one side of his mouth lifted into a hint of a smile. It was the same smile he had gifted me with after healing Elric that had told me he wasn’t such a horrible person.
I swallowed. I knew what he was about to do. He had trained me to resist pain. I imagined my affinity closed off from my body. Even so, the slap to the face was a surprise, and I cried out. My cheek and temple burned. I reeled to the side and would have fallen over if he hadn’t held so firmly on to my wrist. Tears swam in my eyes, making the room blur.
To someone whose weakness wasn’t pain, the slap might simply have stung, but this was like an explosion in my face. I raised an arm to block another blow.
“That’s enough. You’ve made your point,” Elric said.
“No, I don’t think it is,” King Viridios said. “I would like to see more.”
Thatch circled an arm around my waist. I steeled myself for the next blow, shielding off my affinity, turning the molten fire in my nerves to numbing ice. Thatch’s breath whispered against my neck, the pleasant tickle confusing my senses.
The force of the next slap was harder, but I had prepared myself for it, and I numbed myself to the blow. I didn’t want them to catch on to what I was doing, so I whipped my head to the side. I cried out and let the velocity of the blow topple me over. Thatch tightened his hold on me and kept me from falling with his firm grip.
I had to be certain the pain looked convincing. I allowed myself to feel a fraction of it. Enough to make me cry.
Even using the magic I had learned, I wasn’t able to block all the pain. This wasn’t like those pinches on my arm in his chair. I was no master of my body like he was. The way he nibbled at my neck afterward confused my senses even more. I didn’t know which was worse, the pleasure or the pain.
Feet scuffled behind me. Elric grunted, and I heard fabric tear. “Stop it. They’ve seen enough. We can all tell you don’t love her. You never did. All you wanted was to keep her safe from my court so the Raven Court could have her instead. That is your true motivation, isn’t it?”
“Indeed. You’ve guessed my true intentions.” Thatch’s admission shattered any hope I had of this being a sham. I didn’t want to believe those words. Then again, he never disputed his accusers when they claimed he had disingenuous intentions.
I didn’t know what was a ruse and what wasn’t.
The king and queen whispered, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying.
Thatch’s voice remained cool and dispassionate. “Perhaps physical violence isn’t enough. I could drain Miss Lawrence instead.”
That I couldn’t fake. If he drained me, I would have no magic again. I’d only just started to get my magic back. He had never wanted me to have magic.
“No!” I screamed. I tried to punch Thatch, but he caught my wrist.
“Let her go!” Elric said.
I couldn’t see Elric behind me, only hear him grunt. Either guards restrained him or the king used magic on his son.
Thatch’s grip on me tightened, and he drew me closer. He grabbed my hair, yanking my head back. I stared up into the cold depths of his eyes, not doubting for a moment he would drain me if he felt he needed to.
I wanted magic. I had chosen magic. At least, that was what I had told Jeb. It was what I wanted in my heart. Thatch knew me. He knew how important it was to me.
A sob escaped my chest. I had worked so hard to regain my magic. He couldn’t take it away now. He stroked my back, the gesture soothing me into complacency despite what he was about to do. I hated how my affinity betrayed me.
His lips moved, murmuring a chant. The Red affinity that had been rising up inside me when he’d kissed me ebbed away. Every place his hands touched me prickled: his fingers on my wrist, his arm around my shoulder, and his other hand at the nape of my neck. The pulse of magic was sucked from my core, traveling through my veins and into him. Slowly my magic seeped away.
“Tell him to stop!” Elric shouted. “Please. Aren’t you convinced?”
A woman spoke, not the queen, but I couldn’t see who. Perhaps Quenylda. “I am convinced his callousness is genuine. Mother? Father?”
The king said, “Very well. If that’s your verdict, I’ll concur. But it is a pity to allow both their souls to go free. Two artists, no less.” The king cleared his throat. “Professor Felix Thatch?”
Thatch didn’t respond. Sleepiness washed over me. I tried to resist the direction of the magic and reverse the flow. When that didn’t work, I kicked him in the shin. My leg felt floppy and weak.
He murmured against my lips. “You’re vile.”
I felt vile. . . . There was something about that word. Vile. Vial? What about the vial? He’d given me the vial. Was it for this moment? To stop him? He’d said to use it after I’d proven I was free from my contract.
I moved sluggishly, shoving my hand under the waistband of my skirt, trying to dig under the layers of skirts, petticoats, and bloomers. The chemise was in the way, and I had to navigate through the maze of fabric. With each breath, I felt more of my power leaving.
“Should I stop him?” the queen asked.
“She isn’t any use to us drained or dead,” another woman said.
The king grunted. “She won’t be any use to the Raven Court either. I’d rather she was dead than a tool for the Raven Queen.”
I kicked Tha
tch again, this time with more force. He grunted. He pulled my magic into himself more quickly, gaining power with the pain. I realized my mistake then. I had accelerated the process by feeding his affinity.
Thatch yanked my hand out from my skirt. I hadn’t managed to grab the vial. If he had wanted me to use it to stop him from stealing my affinity, it was impossible now.
If I was to gain the upper hand, I would either need to feed my affinity or use his weakness against him. The problem with the latter was that his kryptonite wasn’t as easy to manipulate. If pain was his fuel, did that mean pleasure was his weakness? My brain was in a fog.
I couldn’t feel my fingers. I wasn’t certain I felt an affinity dwelling inside me either.
My legs buckled and turned to jelly. I crumpled to my knees, tears streaking down my face. Thatch didn’t try to hold me up anymore. He let me sink to the floor. He kneeled beside me, his arm circled around my back.
He’d released his hold on my hair. The lack of pain made it easier to concentrate. The flow of magic into him had also ceased. My body was weary, but I forced myself to act. I looped my arms around his neck and brought my lips to his. I could only hope the Silver Court disdained Witchkin magic enough that they were ignorant of how any affinity worked, let alone the Red affinity.
With their indifference of Witchkin’s inferior magic coupled with Thatch’s ward to make it difficult for Fae to detect my magic, I hoped I would be able to pull this off. Let them think I loved him.
I kissed Thatch, telling myself the lie that he might love me so that I could enjoy the sensation of his lips against mine. He tried to lean away, but I clung to him and pressed myself against him. I drank him in with that kiss, and consumed his magic at the same time.
He twisted his face away. “No,” he said.
I nuzzled into his neck, savoring how nice this felt, even as I hated myself for doing this to him. I was like my mother, a wicked witch who used him.
“Get her off me. Before she drains me.” His voice was no longer calm and collected.
He tried to unclasp my hands from around his neck. He could have easily struck me, but he didn’t this time. Instead, he fell onto his back, awkwardly trying to kick his legs out from underneath him. His erection pressed against me as I landed on him. I kept kissing him, ravenous for all he’d taken from me.
And more.
I had my magic back, but I kept on taking. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t know how. My affinity felt close to bursting. White light exploded out of me. People screamed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Unhappily Ever After
A soft knock on wood roused me from my dreams. Voices murmured softly. The sound slowly brought me back to reality. I was tired, clinging to the remnants of sleep.
Birds chirped merrily outside. The bed was as soft as clouds, more comfortable than my own in the dorm at Womby’s. I blinked my eyes open, momentarily disorientated by the saplings that made up the bedposts and the mixture of moss and fabric curtains hanging from the frame. Sunshine streamed in through the window and warmed me in bed. Light caught on the glittering crystals inlaid into the walls.
I was still in the Faerie Realm. I sat up with a start.
Elric’s voice came from nearby. “Good morning, my love.”
He stood in the shadows to the left of the window. The smile on his face looked forced as he turned toward me. He strolled over to the nightstand, retrieved a bottled water, and sat beside me.
He held the plastic bottle with a handkerchief in his hand, a thin barrier between him and the substance that was toxic for him. I accepted the water. The lid broke away from the seal with a satisfying snap. It was the closest I could come to a magic spell to test food for Fae tampering. As far as I knew, no Fae could alter synthetic materials or what they contained. Plastic was better than tinfoil underwear.
I guzzled the water, thirstier than I had been in a long time. Elric remained silent beside me, one hand on my knee as he stared off into the distance. My stomach gurgled.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“No, I don’t think so.”
I placed a hand on my belly, reaching out with my awareness. Was that my affinity I felt or hunger? I couldn’t tell. I was too sleepy, and pressure behind my eyes signaled an impending headache.
“Did Thatch drain me?” I asked.
“No, you drained him.”
“What?”
“Partially, anyway. He’s not dead.”
Yes, it was all coming back to me now. The weight of last night’s events. I hadn’t been able to stop draining him. Something had exploded—me. I hadn’t been able to contain that much magic.
I shifted in the bed. My limbs ached, but I didn’t have any burns like the other times magic had exploded out of me. Perhaps it was because I hadn’t tried to use pain or lightning, and this had been an explosion of good feelings.
“Is Thatch . . . all right?” I didn’t want to ask anything that would make Elric think I liked Thatch, but I did want to know if I’d hurt him.
“More or less.”
“And everyone else? Did I hurt anyone?”
“No. They’re all alive. A little shocked, I think. They didn’t know what to make of last night.”
I didn’t know what to make of last night.
An amused smile tugged at his lips. “They think you’re dangerous, no one to meddle with.”
“How did I get up here?” I asked. “I don’t remember going to bed.”
I examined the chemise I wore. I was pretty sure I was wearing bloomers or pantaloons underneath. I didn’t remember getting undressed. There was no discreet way to check if I still wore the same underpants I’d come with, concealing the vial Thatch had given me. It didn’t feel like the vial was still there.
“I carried you up to my room and sent the servants away. I undressed you myself because I didn’t think you’d want them to touch you.”
He knew me well.
“Thank—thank goodness.”
He touched a finger to my lips and shook his head. “That was close. I should think you would have learned your lesson by now.”
I shook my head. “I’m an impossible student.” That’s what Thatch told me. My heart ached thinking of the teasing way he’d said it.
“I hope you’ll forgive me, but I put a sleep spell on you,” he said. “I know you don’t like it when Fae enchant you without your consent, but I was concerned that you needed rest.” He touched a finger to my temple and drew it along my jaw. “And there were bruises along here, so I had to take care of those with magic as well.”
I fought the urge to thank him. “What was the king’s verdict? Am I prisoner of the Silver Court, or did they decide Thatch had fulfilled the bargain?”
His smile remained locked in place, as stiff as a mask. “Mr. Thatch won your freedom from the Silver Court, thus you are no longer in my debt. And I suspect you have won your freedom from Mr. Thatch. I can’t imagine him trying to drain you again.”
Elric’s eyes were hollow, reflecting a deep well of sadness inside him. It must have cost his pride to ask for help from his enemy. I could only imagine how it had hurt him to see me kiss Thatch.
Even if Elric truly understood my secrets, and knew what it meant for me to be a Red with a touch affinity, it didn’t mean he would like the way my magic worked. Thatch had used my affinity against me to make it appear as though I loved him. Surely this had made Elric look like a fool.
I placed a hand on his heart. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
“I don’t love—”
He held up his hand. “You don’t owe me any explanation.”
“But I do! I love you. I don’t want you to think that was real.”
“It was real.” He leaned forward, his voice a hush. “Let’s not discuss this particular matter here in my father’s house. Another time.”
I nodded. That was the smart thing to do, but I
yearned to tell him how I felt. I wanted to make him see I truly loved him. I hated that doubt in his eyes.
He took my hand and pressed it against his cheek. “For the record, I wouldn’t ever use you like he did.”
“I know.”
“Now that you’re free of the contract, I can be more honest with you. I think we’ll both be happier that way. You can ask me anything, and I don’t have to keep it from you.”
“Like about your wives?”
“Constance is my only living Witchkin wife. I have no Morty wives currently.” His lips worked as though he wanted to say more.
“You don’t have any more Witchkin or Morty wives?” I forced myself to focus on what he wasn’t saying. I thought of the book that had been left on my bed. “Do you have . . . a Fae wife?”
“I want you to understand something.” Elric stared off toward the light, his face radiant in the sunshine, but his soul dark with mourning. He resembled one of the soul portraits I’d made of him, a contrast of light and shadows. “Centuries ago, after my sister saw my success siring offspring, she came to me with a . . . bargain. If I agreed to marry her, she would teach me magic to protect those I loved: children, mistresses—anyone. It was a tempting offer. When I was first forced from my human home and told of my lineage as the youngest prince in this court, I didn’t know how to control my magic. I’d never been taught. All I knew was what I had taught myself, and it wasn’t enough.”
His lower lip trembled. “My family drove my first and second wives mad, and they tormented the following ones. My children ‘had accidents.’
“Those who couldn’t have their own children were jealous of what I had, not realizing they too could have conceived had they been willing to mix their blood with the supposedly inferior races. Though, at the time, I didn’t realize that was the case either. I just knew I preferred the company of artists, musicians, and dancers. I enjoyed being with those capable of feeling love, which is to say, anyone not Fae. I didn’t love my sister, but marriage was a logical choice. She kept her word and taught me. Though she has come to resent the fact that I have never been able to give her what she wants. A child.”