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“Blaise.” Nox reaches for me, but I must look like a feral animal, because he bites the side of his lip and withdraws his hand. “We’ll keep her under strict watch. Between Gunter and me, we won’t allow her to—”
“No.” I shake my head frantically, the rocking motion becoming more intense.
“No?”
“No, you can’t. You and Gunter, you can’t see her.”
The crevice between Nox’s dark brows deepens. “Blaise, I promise we won’t let her get away with anything that might harm you. She needs to be monitored. We have no idea what she plans to do, and perhaps, if we could reason with her…”
“No. Please. Please promise me you won’t speak to her, won’t come near her.” I’m practically sobbing now, any peace from Nox’s beautiful book having drained from my pores and seeped into the grout on the floor.
“We won’t—”
“No. She’ll try to make a bargain. I know you think you’re clever enough to outsmart her, but she’ll find a way. She always does. I don’t know how she does it, but she’s ancient, Nox. I saw the effect she had on Evander, and if you get anywhere near her, she’ll sink her claws into you, too. And Gunter. She has this thing about seducing males, and—” I hold up my hand, because Nox has opened his mouth to say something. “Please, just let me finish. I promise you, speaking with her, interacting with her; it will only cause trouble. And she’s beautiful and I can’t, I can’t…”
Images of a pale-haired woman climbing into Nox’s lap flood my mind, her lips upon his, his hands snaking up to unlatch her clothes. And then I’m back in that closet, being carried into the pantry hardly big enough to fit two.
Rage and shame barrel through me, and though it’s the parasite I should hate in this moment, Derek I should hate, it’s not them I despise. It’s the little girl, too stupid to know what is happening, too dull and desperate for attention to scream.
My lungs are moving, but only to push air out. They’re malfunctioning, refusing to allow me to take a breath. Black spots speckle the corners of my vision.
Faintly, as if in the distance, I can feel Nox’s presence as he draws near. “It’s just me,” he whispers. “I’m going to hold you until you can breathe again,” he says. I nod my head, and then strong arms engulf me, bringing me into his warm embrace.
“I won’t come to see her tonight. I’ll make sure Gunter doesn’t either. We’ll find another way,” he says.
Nox holds me until I can breathe again, and quite a long time after that.
CHAPTER15
NOX: AGE ELEVEN
The queen is a dreadful instructor; I find soon enough.
Her workshop is adjacent to her quarters. On my first day as an apprentice, she tells me the king had had it specially hewn into the ancient stone just for her the week following their wedding.
It’s spacious and dark and dimly lit by lantern light that bounces off the curved glass edges of the assortment of vials that fill the room.
I feel instantly that this is home.
There’s a twinge of guilt that accompanies that thought, but the reminder of how proud my parents will be when they receive my letter quells it until it’s manageable.
It’s then that the queen gets to work, and everything unravels from there.
In the first few weeks of my training, the queen is insistent on demonstrating.
That is about all she’s good at.
It’s not that the queen isn’t a genius when it comes to magic—she is. She can mix dried prawnberries and smoked lentils and make a remedy for croup, but then if she grinds the prawnberries only a bit finer, she can use the same recipe to concoct a poison that accelerates the disease.
It’s fascinating, and I don’t understand how she does it.
That’s most of the problem.
I’m not sure she understands how she does it, either.
Anything she makes in front of me, I can replicate with ease, but as soon as she wants me to change the product, to alter the recipe, she can’t seem to provide any guidance.
For instance, she can’t tell me why grinding prawnberries into a finer powder draws out the more deadly aspects of the fruit, only that it does.
