Cruel Beauty(38)
Author: Rosamund Hodge

“. . . 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.”

I waited. I knew what he would say next: Let me do something about those virgin hands, and we’ll have a deal. It was only logical, for obviously I could get the knife whenever I liked, and as long as I remained a virgin, I could still use it to fulfill the Rhyme.

No matter how much I desired his kisses, the thought of letting him possess me entirely was still terrifying. But I’d come here prepared to offer up that much. I couldn’t back out now.

“Deal,” he said.

I blinked. He reached up and tapped my wrist.

“All right!” I jerked the knife away. He caught my wrist, took the knife, and threw it across the room.

“You’re worried about the knife but not my hands?” I demanded.

“Well, I’m the mighty demon lord and I have your knife. It seems only fair to leave you some advantages.”

“But—” I realized with a wave of embarrassment that despite my relief, I was also disappointed. My face heated.

He grinned as if he knew and kissed my palm.

I slapped him across the face. “Don’t waste my time,” I said stiffly, and got out of bed.

16

“But you must remember something,” I said.

Ignifex leaned over my shoulder. “I remember fire and blood. I suppose that was the Sundering. Then my masters explained to me the terms of my existence. And then I was here in my lovely castle, and I think you know the rest.”

We were back in the library. Whatever mood had gripped it yesterday was gone; daylight shone through the windows across dry floors and nothing grew across the shelves but a faint layer of dust. The warm air smelled again of old paper.

This room was long and narrow; a round table sat at one end, with just barely enough room around it for walking. I sat at the table with books stacked all about me while Ignifex alternately paced and hovered. It had been my idea to start here: I thought there might be something to learn from what was censored in the books. So far, all we could discover was that we weren’t supposed to know much about the old line of kings.

And I had discovered that no matter how often I got annoyed with Ignifex, it did nothing to stop the humming awareness of how close he was, how I could touch him if I only reached—

“Who are your masters?” I asked, at the same time reaching back to snag a key from one of his belts, because outwitting him was a much better idea than kissing him.

Just in time, as he turned away to pace again. “If you knew them at all, it would be as the Kindly Ones.”

“The Kindly Ones?” I echoed, sliding the key up my sleeve.

“Of course you don’t know them.”

“Of course I do, because I spent my whole life studying anything related to the Hermetic arts, demons, and you.” It really was not fair that getting annoyed at him did nothing to stop my wanting him. “But there are only a few garbled references to them in some very old tales. Everyone thinks they’re a myth—maybe another name for the hedge-gods—”