Page 41 of Lich's Mate

My heart thumps a bit louder at that. She chose me above her freedom. She chose me, above everything else.

I’m left deep in contemplation.

As I clothe her, lifting her arms and legs up while bringing fabric over her exposed form, I take in the deep lull of her feeble human breathing, every moment a comfort. The bed she rests upon is tempting, her every curve and dip still enticing. I could easily imagine myself ending my day here, falling asleep next to her, and returning to a realm of dreams.

But we can’t stay in that world forever. We can’t delude ourselves.

I remember how in the courtyard, she felt so relieved by our tryst that she fell asleep as we made our way back. And I carried her all the way here. I could have stared at her forever and delayed bringing her up the long winding staircase.

That would have been pretty fucking great.

But I knew that eventually, we would have to return to our roles. And the longer I delayed that inevitability, the more painful returning to that world was going to become. We each have our own roles to play, and though those roles might coincide in this one instance, we couldn’t be more different.

How much has she struggled to get here, just able to sleep peacefully? How much has she fought to find food, battling oppressive captors and shifting, unpredictable fates? Following the journey she’s taken just in the past several weeks is a dizzying headache even for me.

I might trivialize the whims and fragility of these humans. But I could not for a moment imagine living in her place prior to this. I have been very lucky to lead the life I lead.

And my freeing her doesn’t change how she fits into this world. She is a slave, whether free or not. She can’t simply forget her past.

My hand is on the doorknob, hesitating to turn it.

Her interests will always lie with that world, contained to its interests. And I will remain in my realm, fighting against the interests of adversaries like Gorran who cheapen my continent by simply existing on it.

But you’re growing soft.

If Gorran were to discover what you’re doing now and move in for a kill, would you honestly be able to protect her?

Would you even be able to protect yourself?

I feel my feet naturally pulling me away from this calm room, where her breathing reminds me of an alternative that both counters and opposes my ambitions. With a gentle tug, I pull open the door.

I don’t want to leave her.

I don’t want to accept that this might have been a temporary event in a much more complicated relationship. What happens after we both get what we want and Gorran is obliterated, his business dealings in tatters, and his fleeting legacy spread to the winds?

You’re deluding yourself.

She’s only into you because you have power over her—because she lacks that power. It’s not anything more than that.

Even though I’ve removed her chains, she doesn’t walk freely among these streets as a demon would. It’s possible that she never really will.

They will look at her and see an opportunity, whether in New Solas or Ikoth. She’s not an equal—she’s an exploitable resource, meant for breeding and labor. To the xaphans, who held up their noses at what they used to be, and to demons like me, who are vexed by humans, Meera is little more than a body.

So I know the power I have over her. I know that my kind has an advantage she lacks—that demons roam freely where humans fear to tread. And I know that as long as that power exists, I can never know whether she values me or the power I offer her.

But what is this power she has over me?

My feet carry me down the long and empty hallway, past suits of armor and fraying tapestries, knowing that I need to focus on my plans. I know that I need to mentally prepare myself for everything that lies ahead of us. We’ve found a lynchpin in our plan, but it could be little more than a small break.

Outside, a gentle storm rages. I can hear the slight bellow of thunder in the distance.

How soon before we run into another dead end?

How soon before we’re compromised?

One or both of us could easily be apprehended for what we’re doing, if we’re not simply cut down for our hubris.

I shake my head at the thought.

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