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I’m essentially a failure.
I’ve never learned to be as cold and calculating as my mother or my sister.
My eyes dance away from the show as the younger version of myself tries to keep her composure.
It doesn’t feel like me.
Watching a point in time when I truly believed my magic was a gift doesn’t feel great. In fact, it makes me feel foolish and naive.
The terror I felt at not being able to see anything was overwhelming, but even the magical backlash didn’t offset my certainty that my powers were meant to be used.
It wouldn’t be for several hours, until I was alone in my room, when I would fall apart, wondering if I would ever regain my sight. I eventually did, and I grew bolder, because I assumed every price I’d pay would be temporary.
A shadow moves in the far corner.
I’ve stared at every inch of this room in the Northern Castle on more than a hundred occasions.
I meander closer, briefly wondering if I’m seeing things that aren’t here. The shadow moves closer, and I stumble back a step.
“You don’t belong here,” I blurt out, rocking on my toes. The cool brick of the floor feels chilly against my bare feet.
“What a coincidence. You don’t either,” a dark, enticing voice says.
A shiver runs down my spine as I squint, trying to make out his shape, but all I can see is a mass of swirling shadows.
“Why are you here?” That’s not what I meant to ask. My head shakes, trying to clear the foggy feeling.
“Ali,” the voice says in a tender tone. “Have you forgotten me again?”
“What?”
The shadows slowly begin to dissipate.
A tall demon with silvery-gray eyes stares down at me. Long, straight, dark hair falls around his face as he leans toward me. He’s got the bone structure a male model on Earth would kill for and just the right amount of stubble on his jaw to be downright sexy. He smirks, and the look almost feels familiar. His skin is the same color as his shadows.
I’m drawn toward the expanse of his chest as he leans closer.
“Do we know each other?” I tilt my head, studying him even more carefully.
Why can’t I place him? He seems to know me, and it feels like I’m supposed to know him.
“We’ve been introduced,” he says, his fangs biting into his lower lip. “On a couple hundred occasions.”
I snort, crossing my arms over my chest. I’m pretty sure he’s confused.
“Malice,” he says, stepping toward me. Shadowy tendrils spill around him as he moves, and the effect is a bit disconcerting at first.
My toes dig into the cool floor as I hold myself steady.
I won’t retreat.
I’m dreaming.
Dreams can’t hurt you.
Well, outside of emotional torment, that is.
“Alinelle,” I say, extending a hand and frowning, because I told him my true name. I haven’t gone by that in years. “Ali.”
