Page 33 of Obsession

“You want to destroy the world, and I could do my best to make that happen… humanely.”

He pauses. “You resent me for my actions, yet you’ve set that anger aside in hopes of preserving a race that has forsaken you?”

“Yes.”

I stare at him, and he stares back with the same look as before, trying to work out my trick. Finally, Aris shakes his head, confused and irritated. He does not like not knowing; he hates not understanding. So used to reading my mind, it must be frustrating trying to understand the things I mean behind what I say.

“You would witness atrocities for the possibility of perhaps catching me in a good mood one day?” he says, shaking his head as he scans me up and down. “You understand, it would be useless.”

“For the most part,” I agree.

Aris falls silent. I know what he must be thinking: I am practically giving him the ability to destroy me. I want to witness his actions? Fine, then he will show me the worst. He cannot be influenced, and aren’t I the sweetest of fools for thinking there’s even a chance?

It’s almost too easy. But maybe Mary is just that stupid. It’s almost not fun how easy she’s making it, and yet, how could he not seize this opportunity?

Yes. It is too easy. It is stupid. I wait for him to accuse me of lying. I wait for him to again bring up that I am scheming. I wait for him to tear off my shirt and display my runes.

But then:

“My own advisor…” he muses, his smile growing more suggestive. Aris traces a finger up my exposed arm, and my eyes shut unwittingly.

So cold, so electric. I feel as I did in Berlin, the lower parts of me heating. Wanting. I wait for him—yearn for him—to trail upwards, but his touch suddenly disappears.

I open my eyes, confused by the blank look on Aris’ face. He’s staring at the ground, as if trying to work something out.

“Aris?” I ask, to no response.

Five, then ten seconds pass, before he blinks and shakes his head. “My advisor,” he says again, eyes narrowing as he tries to get back on track.

I stare at him closely, intrigued. There’s a fogginess to him that I’ve never seen before.

Aris takes a breath he doesn’t need, then smiles at me. “That sounds delightful, Mary.”

My answering smile is wobbly. He might think I’m second-guessing my proposition, but I’m struggling to hide my giddiness. I can’t get ahead of myself, but what if that was Jaegen’s spell working already?

“Good,” I say cautiously.

He adjusts his jacket. “Well, advisor, you’ll spend the day with me tomorrow, then.”

“Doing…?”

My unease brings him back to himself in a flash. Aris smiles. “You’ll see.”

Chapter nine

At eight in the morning, Elizabeth bursts into my room and startles me awake. She is insistent on making me presentable, and I’m too tired to argue. It’s only once we leave my room and I see a good amount of people hustling about that I wonder why I needed to be dressed up.

I get my answer a few minutes later when Elizabeth leads me into a place of worship. Larger than a chapel, smaller than a cathedral, and connected to the main building by a long corridor, it is undeniably gaudy. The pews are long with red, velvet cushions, resting on a floor that is either marble, granite, or a mix of both. Whatever else is not sculpted or ornately fixed is brushed with gold, polished and shining. Thousands of candles cover the room—most hanging, some placed haphazardly, overflowing wax holding their bases in place.

In the middle of the room, where one would expect a lectern for sermon, is a dais with a throne. It’s either the same one from last night or an exact replica. However, this time, and most notably, a certain god is missing from it.

Lines of people part as we pass, casting interested looks as we make our way to the front row. Some whisper to each other, hiding smiles behind white-gloved hands. Everyone has ditched their cowls and capes for formal attire; in black, they’re adorned in sweeping gowns or freshly ironed suits. It looks like a dark wedding.

The thought brings a cold sweat to my brow.

“What is this?” I ask Elizabeth. It’s difficult trying to interpret Aris’ actions. Will someone be brought in and sacrificed? Will he pull me onto the dais and force me to marry him?

She sends me a cursory sneer. “Mass.”

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