One gasps, and our gazes meet. “You…You’re the mole?”
I grip the pearly head of the sewing pin and tear it out of my calf, my heart beating faster and faster. “I didn’t know?—”
A thousand little moments of the last two years suddenly take on a totally different meaning. Esme kept so many secrets from me. She pretended that Damian was a monster and skewed my beliefs. And she was so eager to hear about the Shadow King…
Now, I know why she became my tutor in the first place.
“Hello, Damian.” A sultry voice echoes in from the balcony behind us, and I whip my head around to the opened door.
Gone is the haughty governess. Everything about Esme—a-k-a Morrigan—is different, down to her perfectly round human ears. She leans in the doorway with a sly grace that leaves no doubt as to her cunning, her knee-high boots a vibrant shade of purple.
A secret smile tugs at her red-painted lips. “I’ve missed you, darling.”
Chapter 40
What's Left of Me
The phantom queen tilts her head to the side, and the motion sends her long black hair cascading down her shoulder. “Why are you sitting on the floor?”
The sight of her knocks the wind out of me. So familiar, like a sickness. I know every inch of this woman by heart. Every single inflection of her voice. So many years without a viable lead… so many unfruitful hunts…
I can’t believe she’s here. I’ve both dreaded and dreamed of this moment. A chance to kill her once and for all.
“It’s not—” Nell says quickly.
Morrigan drowns out the rest of her sentence. “Nell here has only been spying on you, and reporting everything to me.”
I summon every ounce of the old Damian I still possess to the surface and chuckle at the obvious lie, pushing my bluffing skills to their limits.
I can’t fight a dozen more spiders. Despite the merge last night, I’m still at a tenth of my usual strength, and basically an ant compared to the king I was before the curse.
The arrogant curl of her mouth waivers. “Why are you laughing?”
Morrigan “Rye” Quinn loves to play games, but she would never have asked another woman to seduce me. No… Her plan sidetracked, and she’s scrambling.
“If you need to scheme so hard, you must not be ready to fight me.” I stretch my lips into a cruel smile.
She mirrors it right back. “Please. See for yourself.” She backtracks and opens her arms to the scenery behind her. “They add a little something, don’t you think?”
My pulse throbs. The gardens are crawling with spiders. A hundred of them at least.
“Damian, I swear I didn’t know.” Nell inches closer.
I raise my hand to warn her off. I need her to stay safe between Two and Three. “I know.” I can’t afford to look at her, but I hope she knows I still trust her. “Hiding within the Demeter court… It must have been hell for you, Rye. You went through all that trouble to spy on me?”
The familiarity in the nickname irks my tongue. It’s a painful reminder of how I almost married this woman, and her presence brings out a side of me I thought I’d buried for good.
She crosses her arms over her chest. “When she returned to you early, I knew you were about to win your stupid bet. But you know me. I can pivot.”
I’m too weak to summon nightmares to the fight. Too weak to win this outright. If the spiders attack, most of my hunters will die, and for what? For a dying king?
Exhaustion takes hold of my body. I’ve been working my fingers bloody for decades, barely holding on. “What do you want? My crown?”
With an exaggerated sigh, Rye walks away. The wind blows her hair forward as she reaches the railing and glances down to the interior courtyard with her arms braced on each side of her. “I’ve only ever wanted to marry you. I never asked for anything else. You’ve done all of this to yourself with your stubbornness.”
The nerve… I rub down my face, feeling like I’m back at square one. “I told you before I’d never marry you.”
“But your life is not the only one hanging in the balance anymore.” Her tongue darts out to wet her red-painted lips. “You won’t survive Morheim without Nell’s magic, and you know it. So you either steal her essence right now, and we can fight like grown-ups, or admit that you’re not willing to risk one hair on her head. Make one last deal with me, darling. You used to love our lovers’ quarrels.”