She swallows hard, then nods. “Fine. Take it.”
My jaw drops as I grab a hold of her, turning her to face me. “Daisy?—”
“I want to be strong, Korithax,” she says, cutting me off. “I want to be immortal, to stay with you for as long as possible. If giving a memory is the price, then I’ll pay it.”
Maelkar grins, his voice almost manic as he sing-songs. “Then let the ritual begin.”
Chapter 47
Daisy
Istep into the darkened tub, the black gown I wear clinging to my body, the fabric floating in the water like spilled ink.
The liquid is warm, murky, and dense, clinging to my skin with the weight of something unnatural. The scent is overwhelming, like earth, ash, and ancient magic long since rotted. The tips of my hair brush the surface, steam curling around me like a living thing. I lower myself until the water reaches my neck, my breath hitching as anxiety claws at me.
“If you fucking hurt her,” Korithax snarls, taking a step toward me. His voice is low, a lethal warning.
“Oh, please,” Maelkar says, waving a lazy hand. “Like I’d be stupid enough to piss off the Heir of Hell. I’m not suicidal, Korithax.” He smirks, gliding to my side. “Back up, princeling. Unless you want your own memories peeled from that pretty skull.”
Korithax’s jaw flexes, his eyes seeming to have a glowing ember behind them.
“It’s okay, Korithax,” I whisper, meeting his eyes. “I’ll be okay.”
Reluctantly, Korithax steps back, but the murderous energy radiating off of him could ignite the walls. Gods, if looks could kill, every inch of Noxthrallia would be ash.
“Alright, sunshine,” Maelkar says, lowering his voice into a croon as he moves behind me. “Lay your head back and let the water hold you. Just relax for me.”
I inhale sharply and do as he says. My head tips back against the curve of the tub, the warmth lapping at my throat. He gathers my hair with a reverent touch, letting it fall like a golden curtain over the outside edge of the basin. I look up and see Maelkar’s eyes gleaming, those pitch-black irises circled by that eerie violet ring. His thumb strokes my bottom lip.
“Delicious,” he murmurs.
His face is breathtaking. Beautiful in the way a predator can be—mesmerising, exquisite… and absolutely wrong. Korithax snarls from across the room, a guttural warning that shakes the very air.
Maelkar merely chuckles, drawing his hand back from my face. “Down, boy.”
He leans in, his voice velvet, his murky scent invading my senses. “Now… let’s open that little door in your mind, shall we?”
I nod, breathing through the knot in my chest. I find the door—the one I had slammed shut earlier just to stay sane—and I let it creak open. The memory waiting behind it slithers into the forefront of my mind like a venomous fog. It rises, threatening to choke me, but I don’t fight it. I let it in. Maelkar’s nostrils flare, his pupils dilating so much that the violet completely vanishes. His body trembles as he moans—low and guttural, like he’s tasting something exquisite.
“Close your eyes, sweetheart.”
I obey, and his hands slide to my temples, cool and firm. The world falls away, and I’m there again.
The hospital room is white.
Too white. It smells like bleach and sadness. Machines beep softly behind me, counting down the seconds to a final breath. I’m seven years old, clutching my mother’s hand in both of mine, my little fingers barely able to wrap around hers. Her skin is pale—almost translucent. Her lips are dry and cracked. She’s bald beneath her bright yellow silk scarf, her once-glowing blonde hair now only a memory. Her honey eyes, sunken and rimmed in purple shadows, flicker slowly open. She smiles.
She always smiles. Even when the pain’s unbearable. Even when the nurses whispered, and the doctors stopped offering words of hope.
“Sunshine…” she whispers, her voice so faint it could be mistaken for wind. “You’re…so brave…”
Her hand twitches in mine, her thumb barely grazing my knuckles.
“I’m scared,” I say through tears. My nose is running, my cheeks soaked. “Don’t go.”
She smiles again, weaker this time. Her chest rises with a shallow breath, then another. Then… stillness. The beeping slows. Then a long, solid tone fills the air.
“NO!” I scream, pushing to my feet. I shake her with as much force as my tiny body can manage. “No, mama! WAKE UP!”
