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She had murdered King Cyril in his bedchamber, conducting the most grotesque spell she’d ever encountered, forcing his blood to multiply and spill from every orifice until he drowned in it.
She had unknowingly, at Lazarus’s demand, been helping him become corporeal.
Nausea overtook her, and she gripped the table until her knuckles were white. Devil’s horns, she had always wondered how Lazarus chose the tasks she was to perform, and now she understood. He was using her to take over a body—to walk on this earth. Her chest rose and fell, heaving air in and out of her lungs. Her mind was unable to grasp anything—anything other than the fact that she was responsible for this. She was fucking responsible for Prestowne and so many other deaths, and—
“Elyse?”
Her head snapped to the doorway to see Jaime’s faintly illuminated silhouette. She hadn’t heard him leave his bedroom.
She knew she should reply, or somehow acknowledge his presence, and yet words, logic, courtesy, all of it evaded her. She could only see the destruction she had caused, could only hear the black skull’s cruel laughter echoing in her mind.
Jaime stepped forward, concern marring his face. “What are you doing in here?”
Elyse swallowed and forced her voice to sound calm. “I was just reading,” she answered, hoping she successfully hid the guilt that raged inside her.
“You should be asleep,” Jaime said quietly.
He moved toward her, and with each step, Elyse compelled her nerves to settle. She couldn’t think about what she’d just read—not until she was alone and able to completely unravel. As she drove the images of Prestowne and King Cyril from her mind, she tried to think of something calmer. She imagined the feel of lush grass between her toes, the soft scent of rain, the rush of power she felt when she used her magic.
Jaime stopped just before her, moonlight illuminating half his face. One blue eye sparkled as the other remained cast in darkness. “I went to check on you, but you weren’t in bed.”
Elyse felt an immediate sense of invasion, like a warm, unwelcomed breath on her neck. “You checked on me?” She knotted her brows, not bothering to hide her annoyance.
“Of course,” Jaime replied simply, as if it weren’t strange at all. “We learned something critical today. I wanted to make sure you were able to get some rest.”
Elyse shook her head. She wanted him to go away, to leave her to read so she could figure out exactly how involved she was in this nightmare—and how to fix it. Yet the way he spoke to her, like she was a child breaking curfew, it unnerved her more than she could bear.
“I don’t need you to check on me,” she said firmly. “I’m an adult. I can take care of myself.”
“Oh really?” Jaime challenged. “You haven’t exactly made the best decisions lately.” He spoke calmly, as if laying out a rational train of thought, which only infuriated Elyse more.
“Really,” she told him, snapping the book shut, “I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me, and for helping us now, but I do not need a nursemaid.”
“I’m not being your nursemaid, Elyse,” Jaime stated. “I’m simply looking out for your well-being.”
Elyse ground her teeth. She wished he would stoop to her level, would say something horrible or raise his voice so that she could tear his head off. She had so much built-up anger, so much hatred for this world and nowhere to direct it—nowhere but at herself.
She closed her eyes and lay her hands flat on the table, trying to force her mind to still.
“You’re clearly upset,” Jaime said. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”
Elyse’s nostrils flared as she glared at Jaime. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
“I didn’t tell you to do anything,” he pointed out—a truth, but only technically. “The book will still be there in the morning.”
Her natural instinct was to dig her heels in harder, or perhaps even fling the book at him. He might be right, though. She was pissed off, ashamed, not thinking right. No good would come from her poring over the book all night and stealing tomorrow’s energy. Perhaps she should take a sleeping potion and face this in the morning when she would have Sera there to help her.
Besides, Jaime’s alliance was a bridge she couldn’t afford to burn. She couldn’t let him win though. Not completely, anyway.
She stared at him for a moment longer, not wanting to be the first to break eye contact. Finally, she rose from her chair and strode across the library, her shoulder knocking into his as she sauntered past him and into the hallway.
Chapter 20
- Killian -
Killian was glad that Manny was joining them today. Maybe with Manny around, Jaime would have someone else to glare at for a change. As soon as they walked into the library, though, it was apparent that Killian was still the target of Jaime’s irritation. The asshole shot him a scathing look as he stood in the corner, arms crossed, his sole purpose to murder Killian with his eyes. Killian merely ignored him and seated himself beside Manny at the table.
Sera sat on the other side of Manny, next to Elyse. The two were engaged in a silent conversation, communicating something with subtle expressions. Killian wondered if it had something to do with why Sera was being unusually squirrelly. She had avoided looking at him after they left the estate the day before, and had hurried inside her building after a hasty goodbye—not that Killian had minded. It was simply peculiar.
