My jaw slacks a little, but I quickly swallow my pride, then stand closer. “Nice trick,” I say, hovering my hand close to hers, sensing the powerful magic emanating from her skin—an electrifying sensation that shields her against me. Our eyes lock for a moment, then she looks away. “But you must know,” I continue, sliding my thumb under her chin to force her reluctant gaze to meet mine. “I do not need my magic to kill you.”
“You don’t need to kill me,” she exclaims hoarsely, her throat bobbing as she struggles to swallow. I glide my fingers over the angry, crimson marks encircling her throat. “I do not know, so unless you tell me—”
“You do not command me,” I snarl as her defiance crawls through my veins.
She steps back, holding my gaze. “Why are you so threatened by me? A mere mortal as you put it. Besides, prophecies are usually made by someone else.” She pauses, her expression shifting as realization dawns, and she utters her conclusion. “Who predicted I would be your downfall?”
I grab her wrist, then tug her close to me. “Mock me again, Poison, and I will show you that there are far worse fates than death.”
She smirks upon hearing the name I have given her, as if it is a victory. Playfulness dances in her blue eyes as she bites her lip to conceal a smile. She glances at my fingers and brushes her own over my skin, making me flinch. “I’m the first person you’ve touched that hasn’t died, aren’t I?”
I swallow hard as my words jumble in my mind, rendering me speechless. The truth is that every time we touch, I’m torn by the irresistible urge to both strangle her and hold her close, while the longing for that elusive human connection I’ve heard so much about deepens.
When I don’t respond, she purses her lips and lifts her chin as her hand rests against my chest. “How long have you been alone?”
I growl, but she doesn’t relent.
“I’m alone too,” she admits, her voice cracking. “My parents don’t care for me. All I have are my sisters and my best friend, Drake. And he is imprisoned in the Incarcuri,” she divulges, as if our shared lack of love will evoke my pity. But she still has people who love her; I have no one. Yet, I can’t bring myself to snap her delicate neck to end her life, and as her fingers press deeper into my chest, I find myself immobilized.
“Let me leave. I won’t use my powers again,” she promises.
“Where would you go?”
Her eyes narrow with curiosity that teeters on dangerous.
“Away from Dahryst.”
Her breaths are uneven as her fingers slide down my arm to graze over mine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. I can’t fucking think properly with her touching me like this.
“You will never see me again,” she insists, probably sensing my growing hesitation.
I heave out a heavy sigh, then close my eyes. There is only one way I will agree to this, one where she can’t defy me, and I can humiliate Nyxara, showing her that some fates can, in fact, be changed.
The Threader’s words come back to haunt me: “The more you attempt to destroy the prophesied one, the further you will be buried by the prophecy.”
“You will leave Dahryst and never return.” Suspicion crowns her angular features. “I agree, not out of sentiment, but because I believe this will benefit me,” I remark.
“I will never return.” She nods, then removes her hands from me. “You said this will benefit you. I won’t ask why, but you should know I cannot leave knowing Drake is imprisoned.”
My muscles tense. “You want me to allow a traitor to be freed?”
She taps her fingers against her hip in a rhythmic motion, guiding my attention to her body. “It was my fault. Besides, it was only a statue.”
My jaw tightens, irritated by the power this mortal wields over me—a god, who she should be worshiping. The witch deserves to be punished for her impertinence. “I will free him,” I say, delighting in her naïve, grateful expression. “But first, we must seal this deal in blood.”
“A blood oath,” she whispers, mulling over the implications. She mentioned her sisters, who I assume she wants to protect. “When must I leave? Do I have time to say goodbye to my family?”
“The family you say does not love you?”
“My sisters,” she clarifies.
She slides her long, brown locks over her shoulders with a graceful, hypnotic motion. Whenever she leans forward or touches her neck, I inexplicably gravitate towards her, which only deepens my aggravation.
I clear my throat. “You have until The Harvest, and you can attend The Choosing ceremony.”
Loud dongs sound in the distance, echoing throughout the town, signaling that The Choosing rites have begun.
In less than three hours, the sacrifices will be selected.
“Okay, then, I agree,” she says as the anticipation of time staggers around us.
She grabs her dagger, then presses the blade into her hand before extending it to me. I arch my brow, as if such things like contact are normal. I slice my hand, then intertwine my fingers with hers, closing my eyes as she tightens her grip.
“With this oath, I swear you will not die by my hand, or by my order. I agree to free your friend, Drake, from the Incarcuri tonight. And in return, you promise to leave Dahryst before The Harvest, or your sisters will suffer the consequences.”
She gulps, her fingers twitching, before she finally whispers, “I promise.”
A glittering, red swirl materializes around our fingers as our blood unites, sealing the deal. I close my eyes briefly, catching my breath as the magic dissipates.
When I open my eyes, my attention is drawn to a set of half-moon scars peeking from under the sleeve of Calista’s dress. I let go of her hand and grab her arm, turning it so I can examine it more closely. She attempts to slip free, but my firm hold prevents her from retreating and concealing the healed wounds. “What happened here?”
“A mother’s love,” she says quickly, then tears her hand from me. “When will you free Drake?”
“At The Choosing.”
After several seconds, she heaves a deep sigh. “Thank you.” She steps back slowly and turns away from me. Glancing once over her shoulder as she walks between the trees, she lifts the skirts of her brown dress before disappearing into the night.
Once she is out of sight, I stare at my hands, tracing my fingertips over the spot where her touch had been only moments before.
