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My soul.
And if I cannot defeat this monster as I am, then I will become something for monsters to fear.
Squaring my shoulders, I step out of the alcove and come face to face with bright pink eyes and skin so pale, even in this light, it almost appears to have a hint of blue.
She blocks my way. I glance around to see if Elizabeth is nearby. Tension eases from my shoulders when I don’t spot her.
“Good evening, Lady Valmont,” the Voice says.
I am not entirely sure if she is mocking me by calling me lady. It’s not veiled insults that unsettle me so much as being unable to read her intent.
“Hello,” I offer halfheartedly. My lack of decorum goes unnoticed. When the silence drags out, I make to go around her.
A slender hand wraps around my wrist, halting me. “You ought to take care, my lady.”
I slowly drag my gaze to hers. “What do you mean?”
The expression makes it clear she thinks I’m an idiot for asking. “Only that you would do well to consider each move you make ahead of time.”
I stare blankly, not understanding what she means, and wait for her to explain.
She heaves an exasperated sigh. “It would be better to lose yourself in the bowels of the Otherworld than to remain here out of stubbornness. There are faster ways to die than stoking the queen’s ire.”
I set my jaw and narrow my eyes. “I have no plans to run away and leave him as he is,” I say through clenched teeth. “I owe him.”
“Then you are as foolish as she says.” Then more quietly, she adds, “What is it you think you owe him?”
“My life.”
Those two words hang in the air between us. Her bright pink eyes bore into me, searching for weaknesses. I know I have weaknesses, but so does Elizabeth.
I hold steady under her scrutiny. When she relents, she gives no clue to the conclusion she comes to.
“You are walking an icy path. If you wish to live, then take care to waste no foothold given to you.”
Message delivered, the Voice leaves me to ponder over her vaguely threatening parting words. I have no intention of waiting for Elizabeth to make her move. Too many have suffered under her rule.
If the Voice means to keep me away from Alaric by assuming I will run to save my skin, then she is sorely mistaken.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ALARIC
Back within thesolitude of my chambers, an incessant buzzing fills my head. I press the heel of my hand to my temple, trying to shake off the persisting intoxication.
In the solitude of my quarters, There were several occasions when I consumed far more and was not affected to this degree.
Is it because of that woman… that slayer?
No.
That is impossible. Regardless, she has somehow found a way to use magic without possessing any. The scent of her skin lingers on my clothes. It should repulse me, and it’s vexing that it does not. I will my senses to return.
First things first—I must rid myself of all remaining traces of her. I grab for the closest items, not caring if they clash, and toss them on the settee beside the wardrobe then begin to undress.
Searing pain lances from my ribs, working its way up my chest. It’s as if I am being flayed open by a wild demon’s poisoned talons. The unexpected shock of it brings me to my knees. I gasp uselessly for air as I struggle to remove my shirt.
The dark presence inside my mind forces its way to the surface. Black veins web over my skin, writhing, extending out from the concentrated cluster just below my heart. They stretch and recede in a rhythmic pulsing, spreading over more and more of my flesh.
