We could be free.
The hair on my arms rises at the thought. I haven’t let myself truly consider it yet, what it will mean if I succeed.
Rosy cheeks flash before my vision, followed by a cackling laugh that simultaneously gets underneath my skin and fills my heart with warmth.
I shove her away, tuck her into the back of my mind, just as I imagine the magic does to Blaise once a month.
No use in getting my hopes up. Not yet, at least.
Especially when I read the next line in the tome.
The magical bond that tethers a being to a celestial event is considered sacred, and thus always requires a blood sacrifice.
Because we all know how well I do around blood.
CHAPTER 6
BLAISE
The warm scent of dinner rolls, roast, and spiced cider simultaneously has me wanting to retch my empty guts out and shove inordinate amounts of food into my face.
I expect to glimpse a servant through the iron bars of the door, but when a tall figure appears at the bottom of the steps, my heart stops.
A noxious memory swirls through my head, the scraping of damp cloth against my nose before my consciousness is ripped from me.
Dread courses through my veins at the sight of him.
Nox is death incarnate, and I find I can’t look away.
His raven-black hair falls across his forehead, deepening the shadows beneath his eyes. He’s dressed in a gray shirt tucked into black trousers today, having discarded his robes. The shirt hugs his torso, betraying a muscular form even on his slender frame.
He unlocks the dungeon door, and for half a second, I consider lunging at him. Perhaps I can overpower him and make my escape while the door is cracked.
But then I recall I don’t remember the last time I’ve eaten. And that it took me a solid half hour to change into the clothes Nox left for me; my muscles are so weak.
When I woke to my restraints loosened, I’d hardly had the strength to drag myself to the latrine in the dank corner.
At least my butt’s clean now, though.
I’d attribute it to Nox’s kind spirit lurking under the tortury surface, but I’m pretty sure he just considers himself too much of a prodigy to stoop as low as changing adult diapers.
The fact is, it unsettles me a bit—the loose restraints and the scent of spiced cider wafting through the cell bars. If anyone can recognize a game, it’s me, but in this instance, I don’t know what he’s playing at.
So he opens the door, the hinges squeaking as he carries in a massive tray of steaming food, and I pretty much just sit there, back propped up against the base of the dais I’m too tired to drag myself back up on.
“Both your hands are occupied. This is the perfect opportunity for me to escape, you know,” I say. Because if I’m too much of a wimp to attack him, I at least intend to remind him how incompetent he is.
“I wish you would,” he says, placing the tray upon the workbench, leaving the dungeon door wide open and unguarded, like he’s taunting me. “I rather enjoy a good chase.”
Okay, so he’s definitely taunting me.
Figuring—Do I even deserve to live if I don’t try?—I plant my palms on the cold stone floor, hoisting myself up to my feet in a single, rather fluid motion if I do say so myself.
I make it about two steps before my wobbly knees give out. Sturdy arms encircle me, catching me just before I permanently dent the shape of my nose in a scuffle with the stone floor.
“I’d say that was a rather admirable attempt, wouldn’t you?” Nox says. I don’t fight him as he runs his arm behind my knees and picks me up, gently setting me back on the table. “Can you sit up?” he asks, his hand lingering on my back.
It takes me a moment to realize he’s not taunting me this time.
“Honestly? I was enjoying the back support.”
Nox’s pale eyes dip to the stone base of the dais, so thick it actually makes the dais more like an altar.
Or maybe that’s just my morbid sense of humor assuming it won’t be long until my blood gets spilled all over its surface.
“Alright, then. Fair enough.”
He picks me up again, and I choose to ignore how sturdy his chest feels underneath his thin gray shirt as he pulls me into him and lowers me to the ground. When he props my back against the dais mount, I let out an exaggerated sigh.
A moment later, there’s a plate of food warming my lap, and Nox plops down beside me. “Are you strong enough to feed yourself, or would you like me to do that for you as well?”
I allow my jaw to go lax and my tongue to loll out of my mouth. When I cut my eyes over toward him, Nox is staring like he doesn’t quite know what to make of me.
That’s fine. I’m terrified of him, but I’ll scoop my eyes out before I let him get a glimpse of my fear.
Yesterday was humiliating enough. I’d rather not hyperventilate in front of him again.
“Fine,” I say, shoveling a forkful of buttery potatoes into my mouth.
