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"They kept changing. Incubus into wyvern into lich into…" I shuddered, my heart working too fast, too hard, my lungs refusing to breathe. "Scales melting into fur, bones crumbling and cracking and eyes— They were allhim. Birsha." I breathed his name, lifting my chin and staring into the tangled pattern of feathers, wondering if I had conjured new horrors outside of the shelter of the gryphon.
"They weren't," Laszlo said quickly before tensing and falling silent again.
"They were in the nightmare. They might as well have been in truth. I don't blame them. I feared and hated them, but I never… I never blamed them. It was him. It was him then, and him in the nightmare. He was the only true source of the torment."
The truth was, no matter what the monsters who paid for my body wanted to do to me, wanted from me, far fewer took a cruel enjoyment at their finish than the many who found a gusting, broken relief. Some followed their nature, the hunter needing prey to chase. Others' cravings were not so different than those of the human men I'd granted leave to slap or bruise me, knowing it couldn't hurt for long, that sensation was heady and control was even more so.
Rarely did the monsters' intentions match Birsha's. Their relief was self-centered. I was nothing to them, a fleshy tool. It was not forgivable, but their pleasure was usually only physical. When Birsha stepped into a room and saw me, trapped to his bidding, earning him money, earning him reputation, dying in small increments, thenéktaroffered to my appetite was blade-sharp and potently bitter. His pleasure was power. Over me, and over monsters.
"I had to take release with them. Pleasure with them," I admitted softly. "It's…mynature. And it was all I had to survive on."
Laszlo heaved in a breath and finally moved, his arms circling around my back, one hand rising to cup the back of my neck in a possessive clasp that was too gentle to be startling.
"Was the pleasure forced on you in the nightmare?" Laszlo asked.
I shook my head against his chest. "No…no, in the nightmare it was as if each face took strength away from me. I could see it in their faces, I couldsense, it like…like a flavor in the air. But itstolefrom me. And when I woke, hehadstolen from me. It's not—It shouldn't be—"
I tried to breathe but no air would come, and I leaned back against Laszlo's embrace, my hands fluttering between us, trying to catch the air as if I could press it into myself
"It shouldn't be possible," Laszlo said, frowning down at me. "I agree."
He pressed his hand over my chest, and my eyes widened. My heart stopped its uneven beating, steadying, and my lungs bloomed all at once, a great breath drawn in, clearing away the bound sensation.
"Come inside, my dear," Laszlo said, words so gently coaxing, arms and wings cocooning me and ushering me along with the command.
CHAPTER13
CUTTING TRUTHS
My chest burned, my stomach cramped, my legs were numb from effort, and my face was split with an enormous grin as I ran through the orchard to the west of the castle.
A growl snarled behind me, closer than the one before, and I yipped and spun as Conall caught me by the waist, swinging my exhausted legs around, feet whipping the seeds off the heads of the tall grasses. Our laughter pressed our chests together, and I squirmed to face him, kicking my legs up to wrap them around his waist. Conall grunted, his hands palming my ass to hold me in place, bright, toothy smile shining up at me.
"You're getting faster," he said, hiking me up, scooping one arm under me and raising his free hand to draw his thumb under my eye. "Still tired, though."
I slung weary arms over his shoulders, clasping one wrist loosely as I tried to catch my breath, ignoring the pleasant stretch of my legs spread around Conall's body. I'd found a pair of kid leather breeches in my closet today and the freedom of movement was delicious, although I wished now for a skirt that would be easier to draw up and out of the way.
"You might remedy that," I said, even though I knew whatever Conall offered would be a temporary reprieve, stolen away again in the night.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he gazed up at my face. "I'm not sure. I get the sense I might not be…potent enough for you."
I laughed at the sight of his bottom lip jutting out slightly and ducked my head to clasp it between my own. But before I could reach his mouth, Conall's eyes slid to the side, glancing up at the walls of the castle. He stiffened, and suddenly I was pulled away, set back on my feet, his shoulders straightening.
I twisted, glaring up at the castle, shielding my eyes from the late morning sun, catching a glimpse of a gilded horn ducking out of view. I turned back to Conall, who grimaced, tangling his fingers in his hair as he pushed it back.
"Evie—"
"What are you doing?" I asked, taking a step back, my arms wrapping around my stomach.
Conall sighed, his hands flapping briefly at his sides. "Trying…trying to stay out of a friend's way."
My eyes widened. "Am I adoorfor the pair of you to pass through?"
His cheeks flushed and his shoulders hiked slightly, tucking his head down. "Of course not."
"Asterion is more than capable of avoiding me on his own," I pointed out, turning to shoot another glare up at the window, even though there was no longer any sign of the minotaur. I hoped he was there in the shadows, listening.
"Only because he thinks there would be no place for him at your side," Conall said. "And truth be told, with Hywel's scent, it's possible—"
