I close my eyes, shaking my head slowly. “I’m okay,” I whisper back, forcing the word down into the depths of my soul.
“I’m still waiting for you to share this list of terrible things you’ve done,” Zeke calls out. “Or would you rather another lash?”
“Dina,” I call out. My heart cracks as I say her name aloud. “She was my attendant. My friend. My responsibility. And I let her down. My rebellion cost her her life.”
“Did you kill her?” Zeke’s question is simple. But there’s so many complications in his implication.
“She was my responsibility,” I repeat, more certainty in my voice.
“Did you snap her neck?” I flinch at Zeke’s cruel words. “Did you watch the life drain from her eyes as your hands claimed her soul?”
“You know I didn’t,” I bite out through a clenched jaw.
“Then did you kill her? Or did perhaps your father’s callousness determine her death?”
“And what about the wraith? My father?” I cry out, the words coming out too fast. “The blemish on my soul and the curse the gods have put me under?”
I hear him raise the belt behind me and I brace for another lash. But it doesn’t come. Instead, I hear Zeke sigh, the sound long and broken.
“You didn’t kill the wraith, Angel. I did. Do not let the blood of that bastard weigh on your conscience, when it is my sin to claim.”
I close my eyes, going back to that night in the garage. I know I attacked him. Felt his blood soak my skin and my claws rip through his flesh. But as I think harder, as I concentrate to make my memories clear,I see the masked male sink a silver blade into the wraith’s neck. Zeke, I realize now. Even back then, he was silently looking out for me.
“And as for the curse from the gods, the stain on your soul . . . you have nothing to claim. Not when your stain is near white as snow in comparison to the ebony black of mine.”
I shake my head. “You’re simplifying things.” My voice cracks, weighed down by the rage building inside of me, snuffing out the array of other emotions that have been blinding me.
“I’m not, Evangeline. Your father is an evil male. He has traumatized you along with countless citizens, both mortal and Arcane-touched. He has tormented this city for years—decades, even. He's racked up an extensive list of offenses that the Arcane-touched are only too eager to amend." Zeke tosses the belt to the side and I hear it clatter to the floor. He grips me by the hips, turning me over so I’m sitting on the bed between Sterling’s legs. I stare up into Zeke's icy blue eyes.
“But his biggest offense, in my opinion, was convincing you that you are a curse—that you are wholly and utterly unwanted.”
My face screws up with emotion, incapable of believing his words. It’s too much to hear him speak so bluntly. To contradict my flaws like this.
“He was threatened by you,” Zeke continues, undeterred by my display of emotion. “And because of that he convinced you of how weak you are. He locked you up to stuntyour power. And when that didn’t work, he underestimated your ability to fight for yourself and left you for dead.”
“Iamweak,” I whisper. “Even now, I can feel the pain threatening to pull me under. The headaches, the ache in my bones. You don’t understand how hard it is to live with this infection, this disease. It’s a curse from the gods themselves. I can’t breathe, I can’t think, I can’texistwithout feeling like I’m dying, Zeke. Even now, with the power of the Arcane in my veins. Tell me how that’s not weakness. Tell me how that’s not a curse.”
I glare at him, breath heavy as I wait for him to respond.
“You hurt because your magic is powerful. And you haven’t been given the environment for it to thrive.” He lifts his palm to his mouth, biting into it and sucking in a mouthful of blood. Leaning forward, he brings his lips to mine, kissing me deeply so that the blood washes over my tongue.
I want to push him away, to argue that he’s wrong. That this isn’t something that will be fixed with a little extra attention. All I’ve ever had on me is attention. And yet I have always suffered from this ailment. But the blood hits my tongue and it overtakes me, smothering the pain lacing through my bones. I need more of it, crave it. I chase after him as he pulls away, but Sterling holds me against him.
“You’re not tainted, Evangeline. You are exactly who you are supposed to be. And it happens to be someone wedesire. Deeply.” Sterling’s breath tickles my ear as he speaks, and I resist the urge to lean into the warm feeling of it.
“And what about Aamon?” I argue instead. “He saw me for what I really was. Maybe he changed his mind for a short time, but how else do you explain him throwing me out?”
Zeke stills, seemingly incapable of rebutting my point.
“And you, Ezekiel. You've been so adamant to refuse me. A ten minute conversation with Sterling doesn’t negate weeks of your restraint. You rejected me for a reason. Why should I believe you when all you’ve ever done is try and convince me of the exact opposite of what you’re saying now?”
Zeke’s jaw hardens, the muscles there twinging with the force of him gritting his teeth together. When he speaks again, his voice is deep, slow, as if he can barely contain the words he’s sharing. “You will never understand how sorry I am for treating you the way I did, Evangeline. For contributing to the pain you’re feeling. It wasn’t a reflection of you . . .” He sighs, the sound rumbling in his chest. “But of me. Of the absolute shit storm that has been my mind since Sterling and I escaped Sommael.”
His throat bobs, his shoulders tensing as his eyes gleam with regret.
“As far as Aamon goes… I told you there are things at work that you know nothing about and have nothing to do with who you are at your core.”
My brow knits together, my own jaw hardening now. “Until you can give me a concrete example of what you mean, I cannot believe you.”
