Page 98 of Devoured

“I won’t,” I promise him.

Calix helps me off the table and sets me on the dusty floor. Most of the furniture inside the small shack has been covered in thick white sheets, hidden from our eyes, while everything else is cloaked in a thick layer of dust.

“It was probably a faerie patrol flat thousands of years ago,” Calix explains, collecting his shirt from the floor. “They would have sentries stay here during their shifts.”

“Oh.” I swallow roughly.

We stand in front of a small, square window for a few moments, peering out through the dirt and dust toward the riotous sea. Rain pelts the window. So loud it disguises the painful beat of my heart.

Neither of us speaks. I hardly manage to breathe. But when the next strike of lightning spears the ocean, Calix says, “Sin needs to remain safe. If I join your cause, we’ll remove Cora and imprison Sin. With Cora gone, there’s a chance he could be saved.”

I feel the remaining tether of my humanity slip away. That is the last thing Evie would ever let happen. If Sin doesn’t join us, if he remains loyal to Cora, she’ll kill him. Or she’ll expect me to do it myself. But I nod anyway, the movement heavy and wrong. “Of—of course.”

Calix exhales a low sigh of relief. “I can help with strategy and combat, but I don’t want it to go further than that. Sin stays alive no matter what. Cora is punished. And the court fixes itself after. If we can avoid a war, even better.” He turns to look at me, holding my gaze for a second too long. “Do we have a deal?”

“Yes, Calix,” I lie. “We have a deal.”

33

VANESSA

AS SOON AS THE RAIN STOPS, CALIX AND I RETURN TO the castle as if nothing happened between us. And maybe nothing did; maybe I only imagined his hands all over my body and his mouth hot on mine. The lingering burn doesn’t matter anymore. Because I am lying to Calix.

Sin will never betray his mother.

And I will have to kill him.

Whatever happy ending I’d hoped for weeks ago has vanished with the rest of my delusions. In its place, severity grows roots. After everything—even after my torture and Arielle’s lessons—Sin hasn’t really changed. Regardless of what he might think, he is still his mother’s puppet. He will always be her puppet.

Guards patrol various corridors, but Calix grabs each by the throat. He compels them quickly, without a second thought, as I lead him to Portia’s room. Perhaps it’s a mistake to bring him there this soon, but the faster I tell her about our new ally, the better. And tonight, Cora won’t have as many eyes on us. She tortured us, beat us into submission. She thinks she won.

I move to knock on Portia’s door, but the second my knuckles brush the wood, she throws it open and pulls me inside. Before she can slam it shut, Calix edges his way past her. Much to the confusion of Portia—and the dismay of Evie.

Evelyn Lee sits cross-legged on Portia’s bed, a blueprint of the castle splayed open in front of her, and a dagger clutched tight in her left fist. Her eyes narrow on Calix before they flick to me, then back to Calix accusingly.

Portia glances between us and shakes her head. “What is Calix doing here?” She whispers behind her hand as if it will stop Calix from hearing her. As if he isn’t leaning against her dresser now, a mere foot away, with supernatural werewolf senses.

I shake off Portia’s touch—all it does is remind me of Calix’s, of the sudden loss of heat—and try to maintain my composure when I look at Evie. “Calix is here to help us.”

“With what?” Portia blinks wide doe eyes at me, her voice a decibel too loud to be convincing. “Do you mean help with cleaning my room? That is so kind of you. It takes a village, you know.”

“Portia,” Evie snaps. “Calix Severi is a blood traitor, a brooding asshole, and the best friend of a murderer. But he’s not a fool.”

Portia straightens. She tucks her hand into the pocket of her tangerine pajamas. “I was being covert.”

Evie scoffs. “I hope your letters were better than that performance, or we’re doomed.”

“Evelyn Jae Lee.” Portia twitches a finger, and one of the peonies on the wall lashes out at Evie, its stem tightening around her wrist.

She throws her dagger to the opposite hand and slices it clean off. “Smell the two of them, Portia. They reek of rain and lust.”

My hair is plastered to my skin from the dampness of the beach, shame painting my cheeks red. Calix doesn’t flinch. He stands utterly still as his gaze roves over the entirety of the room, as if analyzing it. As if deciding what the biggest danger is.

Obviously, it’s Evie.

She grits her teeth at the sight of him before spinning her dagger deftly between her fingers. “So we’re just inviting anyone now? Good to know, because I think there’s a rat in the kitchen who might be equally useful.”

“Calix isn’t a blood traitor,” I say.