Across the hall, Lempicka laughed softly, while that damned prince smiled at her with the same idiotic fascination of all men. When she caught my eye, she waved. Zelda moved instantly, jerking upright, slipping between us like a wall, blocking my view with her swollen head. She who had always preached that power belonged to those who never let emotion crack their mask. Yet there she stood—eyes wide and narrowed at once, stray strands escaping from her once-impeccable chignon.
“You were nothing,” she spat. “I was the only one who could understand you. If you deny me, I will take everything from you.”
I inhaled, feigning thought. I pulled away from the banquet, stepped closer, and towered over her. “There is nothing left to take.”
A slow, cruel smile tugged at my lips. I relished the tightening of her throat. The nervous tic of her jaw as she tried to cage her rage.
“If you oppose me, we both lose—do not forget,” she whispered, her tone silken, venomous. “Only I can save you, Arawn. I have your heart. I know how to return it. Come back to me, and all will be forgiven.” She extended her hand toward me. “Together, we will be invincible. You may even keep the confectioner if you wish.”
Once, I believed only in vengeance. I saw only evil. I wanted to stop feeling the pain. To be the most powerful sorcerer, yet powerless against my own heart.
But Lempicka had burned it all to ash.
She had shown me there was still good. That there always had been.
So yes, I would remain the monster of their tales. I would wear that role that clung to me like a second skin without hesitation.
Zelda’s patience frayed. Her smile cracked, her fingers twitched.
“I saved you, Arawn,” she hissed between her teeth. “Do not forget.”
I leaned close enough to see the fissures beneath the mask of powder on her face.
“No, Zelda,” I drawled. “All I desire… is your death. You reduce everything around you to pawns. You use them, break them, discard them, all to fill the void inside you. Always craving more, until you lose control, until you lose the faith of the people piece by piece.” I tilted my head. “Look at yourself.”
A spasm seized her, her eyelid twitching like it might burst.
“You are old.”
Her nostrils flared.
“You are exhausted.”
A vein throbbed at her temple.
“Weak.”
The scream she unleashed was no longer human. A howl of raw, unbridled rage. The stained glass windows shattered, raining shards like knives. The walls shook with the force of her magic, a storm of ash sweeping the hall, toppling chandeliers.
I had no time to breathe before the impact struck me. Pain ripped through my chest, as if my blood burst inside me, as if molten needles pierced the cage of my heart.
The guests, well accustomed to Zelda’s tantrums, sheltered beneath enchanted parasols, continuing their merriment. The prince, for once not entirely useless, threw himself before Lempicka as a shield, hiding under an overturned table. Otherswere impaled by glass, but the guards cleared their corpses before they could even stain the marble.
I staggered forward, claws sinking into the table to keep myself from collapsing under Zelda’s crushing grip.
Yes. She was biting the bait exactly as I had planned.
She no longer brought me to my knees. Not as before. My heart had found a way to resist her, to repel the voices clawing for it as though someone had built a shield around it.
Someone.
Of course. Someone.
“Your heart is mine,” Zelda hissed, her voice trembling with fury. “If you will not be my son, then you will be my weapon. Insult me again, and I will?—”
I laughed. Zelda faltered. She was the one out of breath now. I straightened, wiping the corner of my lips, smearing the blackened blood away.
“Oh, Zelda… You tortured me for centuries. This? This is nothing.”
