Cruel Beauty(69)

The Resurgandi would kill to possess this ring. A few months ago, I would have used it to kill him. And he had placed it on my hand.

“I have no desire to be eaten by demons,” I said. “You can trust me.”

“I do,” he breathed, so softly that I barely heard it. Then he kissed me as if he would never see me again, and I kissed him back just as hungrily.

“Stay with me until tomorrow,” he whispered finally.

My heart was racing and I wanted to say yes, but I thought of Astraia sitting up every night, trying to die for me.

“No. I’ve waited far too long already.”

“An hour?”

“Well . . . if you make it worth my while.”

He laughed and drew me back toward the gate out of the graveyard. Just before we left, I thought I heard a noise again. I looked back, but the graveyard was as still and empty as before.


20


Two hours later, standing beside the caryatid bed in my room, I was ready to go home. I had changed into a plain red dress; my hair was neatly braided and pinned around my head. I looked one more time out the great bay window at the village, tiny and toy-like with distance.

Then I turned to the door—Ignifex’s ring heavy on my finger—and laid my hand on the knob.

“Take me home,” I whispered, and opened the door.

Through the doorway, I saw the foyer of my father’s house. The late-afternoon sky glowed warmly through the windows onto the red-brown floor tiles. In the distance, I heard the chiming of the great grandfather clock.

I didn’t want to face Astraia, didn’t want to face what I’d done to her. But she needed me. So I squared my shoulders and marched through.

The door slammed behind me. The clock ticked on imperturbably; people shouted outside in the yard; the air smelled of dust and wood and Aunt Telomache’s perfume.

My old maid Ivy walked out of a doorway, carrying a pile of towels. She saw me, squeaked, and fled, dropping towels in her haste. It was as if she’d seen a ghost.

I was a ghost, for to these people, I was dead.

I strode out of the entryway and down the hall to Father’s study, where I banged on the door once before flinging it open.

“Good afternoon, Father,” I said. “Aunt Telomache, how nice to see you too.”

They stood on either side of the room, pins coming out of her hair and his eyes fixed on the ceiling. It was not the nearest I had ever caught them to embracing, but it was close.

Now, of course, they were both staring at me and turning pale. I had never in my life unnerved them so, and the realization made me giddy.

“I’m looking for Astraia,” I said brightly. “Is she in her room?”

Then they both strode toward me, Aunt Telomache to seize and kiss my hands, Father to slam the door behind me.

“Child, what happened?” Aunt Telomache demanded. “Did you—is he—”

“No,” I said, “he isn’t dead or imprisoned. But your advice was most useful, Aunt.” I took a vicious pleasure in the deep flush that spread across her face.

Father gently pulled her back from me. “Then make your report. Why have you returned?”

I crossed my arms. “I want to see Astraia.”

He let out an impatient sigh. “Have you located the hearts of the house yet?”

“All four of them. It won’t do us any good.” I pulled open the door. “Is Astraia up in her room?”

“Why won’t it work?” Father demanded.

“Because all Arcadia is inside the Gentle Lord’s house. Collapsing the house would just collapse the world.”

They both stared at me. The words skittered out between my teeth, faster and faster. “It’s a cozy little thought, isn’t it? All of us under one roof, even the Gentle Lord. You sent me to die in just the next room.”

Father’s jaw clenched. “I sent you to save our world,” he ground out.

“I’m your daughter,” I spat. “Didn’t it ever, for a single moment, occur to you that you should try to save me?”

“Of course I wanted to save you,” Father said patiently, “but for the sake of Arcadia—”

“You weren’t thinking of Arcadia when you bargained with the Gentle Lord. And I’m not sure you were thinking much of Mother, either, because if you really loved her, you would have found a way to save both the daughters she wanted so much.” I bared my teeth. “Or at least you wouldn’t have spent the last five years bedding her sister.”

As they were still choking on my words, I whirled and strode out of the room. In a moment I heard Father coming after me; I didn’t feel like trying to outrun him, so I turned to the nearest door, thought of the library, and stepped through just as he started to yell, “Nyx Tris—”