“The queen has something over you, doesn’t she,” I state more than ask. When he swallows, I bite my lip. “I know what that’s like, sort of.”
He cocks his head to the side in question.
“Clarissa. She knows where my child is—where the family is who took my baby. It’s why I sent her almost all the salary I made working as a servant at the castle. It’s why I never told Evander where all my money went. For years, she told me that if I did as she said, she’d tell me where my baby was.”
Nox sighs, and it’s almost like he deflates. He tips back his chin and sips from his flask. When he’s done, he sets it next to him on the rooftop instead of returning it to his belt. “I’m guessing she never came through on her promise.”
The weight of what my words imply hits me, and I grab Nox’s hand. The queen is blackmailing him somehow, and I can only hope it’s through a bargain that Nox has struck to his own favor, that in extracting the parasite from me, the queen will allow him to return to his family. “It doesn’t have to be the same for you,” I say. “The queen is fae. She can’t lie to you, can’t go back on a promise like Clarissa can. If she says she won’t hurt your family, then it’s not just that she won’t. She can’t.”
“And what if the queen isn’t the one who I’m afraid will hurt them?” he asks, and his gaze is a plea.
“Isn’t that usually who we end up hurting, the people we love?” I ask. “But they always seem to be the ones who are most eager to forgive us.” I mean to be comforting, but my words come out stale, probably because Ellie’s set jaw comes flashing into my mind.
Nox nods, his gaze darting down to my hands as he traces the veins on my wrists with his finger absentmindedly.
“One of these days, I’m going to get you back to your prince,” he says.
I falter, my stomach twisting. “Well, he’s not really my prince…”
Nox grins, a wicked smile spreading across his face. “Then maybe I’ll keep you trapped here with me.”
I should hate the sound of that more than I do.
CHAPTER 26
BLAISE
We stop by Nox’s bedroom on the way back to the dungeons.
“I have an extra set of quilts,” he explains as he places the key in the lock and turns, the door creaking open. “I’ve noticed yours is developing holes in it.”
He shoots me a disapproving look, but it’s the amused sort.
I may or may not kick holes in my blankets while I sleep.
When he slips into his room, I follow, and when he lights the lantern on the wall and light swarms the room, I can’t help the hole that chisels into my heart.
“How long have you had this room?” I ask, though I feel as though I already know the answer.
Nox runs his hands through his hair, his gaze upward as he counts back. Then he blows out a huff of air. “Oh, I don’t know. Eleven or twelve years?”
Eleven or twelve years.
Yet Nox’s room is practically bare.
There’s a bed in the corner, one hardly long enough for his lanky form. The scarlet sheets are made, but lazily so. They look like they’d be scratchy. There’s also a desk pushed up against the wall, though it appears more well-used than the bed. There are indentions in the wood where Nox must have borne down too hard while writing. The seat on the desk chair is worn as well.
Still. It’s just grimoires, all related to the work Nox does for the queen.
There’s a dresser across from the bed on the wall adjacent to the door, but nothing sits atop it.
There’s not even anything tucked under the bed, at least not that I can see.
“What?” Nox asks over his shoulder as he reaches into the trunk at the foot of the bed and pulls out a quilt.
“Nothing. It’s just…where’s all your stuff?”
Nox frowns, folding the blanket over his arm. “My stuff?”
“Yes. The items you have amassed in your possession over the course of your lifetime.”
Nox gives an amused huff and shuts the trunk. “Maybe I’m just not the material sort.”
My mind flashes to the room I shared with Imogen, to the piles of useless crap I stuffed under my bed until it ran out from underneath in streams.
Most of the stuff was valueless, but each trinket held a memory.
I wonder then if Nox has any memories he’d like to hold on to. Any at all.
“My stuff is with my family,” Nox says, shrugging. “I haven’t exactly acquired anything here that’ll be worth taking with me. Besides, if I need anything, Gunter is right across the hall. He hoards enough possessions for the both of us.”
It occurs to me that for the past twelve years, Nox has treated the castle like an inn. As if he’d only be here for a temporary stay. I suppose twelve years is but a blink in a fae lifespan, but when Nox talks about his time here, it’s as if he feels he’s been trapped for eternity.
Still. It’s like he holds onto the hope that he’ll be leaving any day now.
There’s something about it that breaks me.
We leave his room quickly enough, though the image of it feels burned into my mind.
