Dis raises one devastating eyebrow. He looks infuriatingly composed for someone who was just on his knees. How is that fair? How is any of this fair?
Yep. This is no good. No good at all. Hopeless. Retreat is my only option. A strategic withdrawal. An orderly exit. Absolutely not fleeing in defeat.
I turn on my heels and flee to the relative safety of my bedroom.
I flop onto my unmade bed with a groan, staring up at the ceiling and trying to process what just happened. The whole thing. All of it.
This whole revenge thing really isn’t going to plan.
Fuck my life.
Chapter 10
Netflix and Actually Chill
I’mclimbingthestairsafter closing up the coffee shop with my stomach in knots. Dis has been quiet all day. No temperature drops. No ominous sounds making customers nervous. Which means he’s either planning something, or he’s dead, and I’m genuinely not sure which possibility I’m dreading more.
The flat is dark when I let myself in. I flip on the lights and peer into the living room, half expecting to find the circle empty or the runes burned through or some other catastrophe that proves I’ve failed at even this one thing I was trying to accomplish.
Dis is sitting in his circle. Cross-legged. Looking exactly like he did this morning when I left for work. Perfectly still, eyes open, watching me with that unnerving focus that makes me feel like he’s cataloguing every detail of my appearance for future use against me.
“Oh,” I say, and relief floods through me even though I don’t want it to. “You’re alive.”
“Disappointed?” His voice is dry, almost amused.
“No. Just checking.”
The guilt hits me immediately. I fed him last night in the most intimate way possible, felt his emotions tangling with mine in ways I still don’t know how to process, then immediately fled to my bedroom like a coward and avoided him all morning before leaving him sitting here all day with absolutely nothing to do.
Not that I owe him anything. He’s still my prisoner, still the being who destroyed my life. But the guilt sits there anyway, uncomfortable and unwelcome, making my chest feel tight in ways I refuse to examine.
I take off my boots and leave them by the front door. Then I just stand there in the hallway, unsure what to do next. This is ridiculous. This is my flat. My space. I shouldn’t feel awkward in my own home, shouldn’t feel like I need permission to exist in my own living room.
Fuck it.
I march in with more confidence than I feel and flop onto the sofa. The cushions wheeze under my weight in protest. It’s second-hand and smells faintly of someone else’s life, but it’s mine and I’m reclaiming it. This is my space, and I refuse to let a trapped former shadow king make me feel like a guest in my own home.
I grab the remote and turn on the TV, some petty part of me wanting to do something normal, something that reminds both of us that I’m the one with freedom here.
The screen flickers to life. Some documentary about penguins waddles across the screen, all nature footage and soothing narration about Antarctic breeding grounds.
In front of me, there’s a sharp intake of breath.
I glance at him, curious despite myself. Dis is staring at the television like it just personally insulted him, like it’s challenged him to a duel or questioned his honour.His eyes are wide, wider than I’ve ever seen them, and the shadows around him have gone very still. That particular stillness that I’m learning means he’s completely focused on something.
“What,” he says slowly, his voice filled with genuine bewilderment, “is that?”
It takes me a moment to understand what he’s asking.
“A TV,” I say.
“What does it do?”
“You’ve never seen a TV before?” The question comes out before I can stop it.
“Why would I have seen a...” He gestures at it with something approaching alarm. “That.”
“Because they’re everywhere?” I say, but even as the words leave my mouth, I realise how stupid that sounds. Everywhere in my world, maybe. Not in his. “Right. Not in the Shadow Realm, I guess.”
