I don’t think either of us is ready to address the issue of my freedom, not when Zora still sleeps, and Nox won’t leave until she’s free. So we don’t.
Nox chuckles in response, but it’s half-hearted at best. “I mean a life as a monster. A life never truly free. Free from the cravings. Free to walk in the sun.”
“I was never going to be free anyway,” I say, tucking my chin into my knees.
He frowns, and for a moment I think he’ll lean into me, but he doesn’t.
He’s hardly touched me since I Turned. I can’t exactly blame him. I imagine it’s difficult to look at me now. My form has changed for the better, I suppose, and my face was always pale, but there’s a difference in the structure of my cheekbones, the vibrance in my eyes, the dark circles that run underneath them.
I’m everything he hates about himself.
I wouldn’t want to look at me either.
“You don’t have to blame yourself too much,” I say, and I consider reaching for his hand, but the urge is stilted, so I don’t. “It’s not like you knew what you were doing. And if you hadn’t done what you did, I’d be forever trapped inside my body while Cinderella wreaked havoc and ruined my nails.”
I listen for a laugh at my joke, but it doesn’t come.
We’re both a bit dead inside, I think.
“But if I’d only found a way to extract her, rather than bind her to you…”
“Then I’d be dead. Which I suppose would be worse depending on who you asked.” I speak so suddenly, it takes me a moment to realize why Nox has gone eerily silent.
When he finally answers, his voice punctuates the room. “What do you mean, you’d be dead?”
I chance a glance at him and consider making light of it, but there’s betrayal burning white-hot in those brilliant eyes of his, and he’s finally looking at me again, and I can’t stand for it to be in this way, so I say, “It would have killed me. If you had extracted the parasite, I mean.”
Nox blinks, and I know it’s his way of insisting I continue.
“I found something about it in that history book of yours. Turns out you were right about it containing more about magic than the actual magic books. Though if you ask me, I would have thought that said more about magic books than—”
“Blaise.”
Nox’s voice is as cold as his eyes.
“When did you find out about this?”
I groan and cover my face in my hands. It’s childish and silly, but it’s about the only thing that makes me feel like myself anymore.
“The night before we performed the ritual.”
Silence.
Cold and unforgiving silence.
I’ve seen anger before. I’ve seen it in the way the head maid’s temple would bulge if I didn’t get my work done. I’ve seen grown men, terrifying males of the palace guard, come to blows over an unintentional insult.
I find anger terrifying, but none so terrifying as Nox’s.
It’s not the type that releases itself in sudden bursts. He’s not going to scream at me or call me a host of unpleasant names like my stepmother would. He’s not going to hit me.
He’s not going to touch me at all.
He’s not even going to look at me.
Because if anger burns hot, then Nox does not feel it.
And being on the receiving end of whatever he feels right now is like touching my bare chest to a slab of ice.
Nox stands, putting distance between us, like he can’t stand to be near me, and turns his back to me. “You knew you would die, and you chose not to share that information with me.”
My heart gives a dull thud as I push myself to my feet. “Yes, but I never meant to—”
“To what? To hurt me?” He turns to face me now, and for a full breath I’m so terribly grateful for it, but now that his eyes are upon me, blazing with such hurt, such disappointment, I almost wish he wouldn’t. “What did you think it would do to me, Blaise? For me to be the one to end your life? Or did you think at all?”
“I—”
“Who am I kidding? You never think. That’s how you ended up with a parasite latched onto your mind in the first place.” He runs his fingers through his hair as his words hit me like darts to the chest.
But I suppose I’m the one who threw the first blow today. And I’m not quite ready to back down yet.
His eyes droop a bit, like he’s only just now heard what he said, like he’s not used to saying things so rashly, but I don’t know that I can bring myself to hear his apology. Not when I have more to say on the topic.
“And what about Zora? Were you ever going to tell me about her?”
Nox goes perfectly still, and when he speaks, I can tell he’s choosing his words carefully. A leftover habit from when he was fully fae, I suppose. “I told you I had a twin sister.”
“Have. You have a twin sister. You have a sister who lives, Nox. I know she’s here. I know what the queen’s done to her. Why you never try to escape. It’s not your parents you’re trying to protect. You have a bargain with the queen to free her.”
