“I’ve a lifetime to make up for, my dear,” she says, licking sugar from her fingertips. I want to ask her what she means, but then Viz tells me it’s a training morning, and Syrus is waiting for me.
There’s a pit in my stomach as I make my way to the courtyard. I tell myself it’s only because I’m worried he’s still angry about what happened at the meeting. Okay, maybe a teeny part of me is nervous about what his response will be to my performance last night too. It was bold, and in the cold light of day, I’m not quite sure where that bravery came from. What will I do if he sees it as an invitation to push things…furtherbetween us? Despite my nerves, heat creeps up my neck at the thought. It’s a stupid, reckless reaction, but there’s definitely a part of me that’s intrigued by that idea.
But when I see him, he doesn’t say anything about the meeting, or what happened after. He barely speaks to me at all except to bark the occasional instruction as he watches me haul heavy objects up and down the stairs as usual. I should be relieved, but the trace of bitterness tastes more like disappointment. In fact, I’m starting to think maybe I imagined the whole thing, until I finish lifting weights and he alights from the wall, ready for the combat portion of my education.
To my surprise, I notice he doesn’t have the usual training knives with him.
“We’ll be practicing me channeling my magic through you today,” he says, his tone casual and emotionless—deliberately so, I think. “I need to know my limits when it comes to slinging shadows while I’m possessing you, so we have no more nasty surprises.”
“All right,” I say. I want to ask if he’s chosen a low-contact activity on purpose, but if he’s not going to talk about what happened, then goddess knows I won’t bring it up.
I stand there, waiting for him to take over, for that telltale feeling on the back of my neck. There’s a beat, and he drops his gaze, clearing his throat.
“May I?” he asks.
“May you what?” I ask, bewildered.
He lifts his red-brown eyes, exasperated.
“Oh!” I gape, realizing he’s asking for permission. The Lord of Malice, the demon who snatched me up from Strata without a second thought, is askingpolitelyif he can enter my mind. For a second, I’m tempted to tell him no—more specifically, to fuck off. But if this is the lesson he’s learned from yesterday’s encounter, then…maybe I should encourage it?
“Um…” I shuffle my feet. “Yes, you may.”
He nods, jaw tight, and slips into my mind.
It continues like that for the next week. He avoids entering my mind except during training, and then when he does, he always asks for permission. I’m not used to him leaving me alone to this extent, and frankly, it unnerves me. More so because now I’m not afraid I’m slowly being poisoned, my mind finds other things to worry about. I’ve been away from Strata for over a month. That means Evie’s pregnancy is a month further along. Is she showing yet? Where is she living? Has Jeremy had second thoughts and abandoned her?
Neither Viz nor Syrus ask me any more about that time I pushed Syrus out of my head, or about the eavesdropping that revealed my ability to speak Cyrax. It’s like the Lord of Malice is deliberately keeping his distance. Gone are the questions and the constant slipping into my head. Maybe if I knew what had triggered this sudden distance, I wouldn’t find it so frustrating, but seeing as I don’t, the question is maddening. I try to distract myself by spending time in the garden, identifying the plants there with the books from the library. Triya joins me sometimes, chasing beetles and lounging in sunspots—ourani spots, I suppose they’re called here—among the overgrown foliage.
I’m sitting among the large, blueish leaves of a shrub one morning, rolling a seed pod for Triya to hunt down, when the garden stills. The birds cheeping in the fruit trees and the insects rustling through the grass fall silent as a shadow falls across the book in my lap.
I look up to see the Lord of Malice standing over me.
“Do you know I found her in the mountains as a kitten?” he says, studying Triya. I tilt my head, shielding my eyes against the glare to examine his face. “She was about to be eaten by a ridgewolf five times her size. I could’ve left her there; I suppose the wolf had to eat too. But I was impressed by her spirit.”
He looks tired, dark circles tracing faint half-moons under his eyes. But his tone is the most animated I’ve heard it for days, and there’s a brightness in his gaze as he watches Triya pounce on the seed pod, only for the three heads to fight over who gets to clamp it in their jaws.
“So what did you do?” I ask.
“I scared the wolf off. I assumed then she at least had a chance at fending for herself in the mountains. But her mother had abandoned her, and she wanted to come home with me.”
Triya ambles up to him now, snapping at his hand with the nearest head. In previous days, I would’ve flinched at the sight, but now I can see the playful gesture for what it is, and Syrus gives the head a good-humored push back with his open palm.
“How do you know that’s what she wanted?” I ask quietly, watching her pad away again.
“She told me,” he says simply. “It’s one of the gifts Ajax left me. I’m not the only demon who can do it. They call it animal influence, but that sounds more manipulative than it really is. It’s more like I can get a sense of their thoughts and desires, and in return, they’re open to persuasion.”
That explains the silence of the other creatures in the garden. It’s as if they’re listening, waiting for his command.
“How’s the reading?” he asks, nodding at the book. A book left out for me by Syrus, I’ve realized by now.
“It’s good,” I say honestly. “Whoever wrote it had some weird vendetta against deciduous trees, but when it comes to parasitic symbiosis, they knew their stuff.”
He raises an eyebrow at me. “Interested in parasitic relationships, are you?”
“The writer says that there’s a kind of flower here so lazy it piggybacks off a poor, defenseless vine so it doesn’t have to use its own energy to grow toward the light.” I level a pointed look at him. “I don’t know why, but something about that speaks to me.”
He laughs, the deep chuckles echoing through the garden, and I know I shouldn’t find his amusement as satisfying as I do.
