Page 138 of Devil's Doom

I funnel all my remaining strength into not recoiling from his touch. Instead, I capture his hand and place a kiss over his knuckles, chanting it in my mind like a spell.I’m in love, I’m in love, I’m in love.

“I don’t know,” I say, allowing myself a grimace. “I slept, but I don’t feel too well rested.”

His smile grows, something smug glittering in his eyes. My heart thunders faster and faster, and I hope it means I fooled him.

“Sleep more, then,” he says, leaning in to kiss my forehead.

I let him, standing still, bidding my body to be soft and relaxed, my shoulders down, my breath easy and slow despite how fast my heart beats. I’ll be dizzy in a moment. I already feel weak and disoriented.

“Thank you,” I say, glad to hear how relaxed my voice is. “I swear, I’ll feel better soon.”

He chuckles under his breath, pulling me closer. My eyes stay relaxed, my face warm and pliant, as he leans in and captures my mouth in a languorous, sweet kiss.

I shove all memories of those lips covering those of Mokosz from my mind and kiss him back, as sweetly as I can. Gods. My gut crawls with disgust, and I push it down into the deepest caverns of me. It’s just a minute of pretending, and I am utterly exhausted. I don’t understand how he does it all the time.

The kiss is slow and lazy, not even sexual. After an eternity, Woland pulls back, his eyes mesmerizingly gold and hooded, his lips wet with my saliva.

“I love you,” he says, the lie rolling off his tongue with horrifying smoothness.

My face grows numb, and still, I smile, hoping against hope it’s the right expression, the right words, the right voice.

“I love you, too,” I whisper, the slightest catch in my voice.

He leans in again, placing a sweet kiss on my lips, and finally,finally, pulls back.

“Sleep, my love. I’ll be back later.”

I turn toward the bed, noticing belatedly that I’m no longer wearing my outdoor clothes but a short nightshirt. My body feels warm, and I’m clean, all the blood gone. The ring is back on my finger, and I suppress a flinch at the thought that I’ll have to take it off again.

Woland’s skills of deception are truly superb. If I didn’t know what he did, I would have never suspected a thing.

I walk to bed slowly and climb in. When I turn to my side, looking across the room, he’s still there, watching. His fists open and close once, but when he catches my eye, he smiles reassuringly.

So he’s not as calm as he appears.

“Sleep well, sweetheart.”

I smile in response, and he finally turns around and leaves, his shadows wrapping around him. I close my eyes and count my breaths, each painfully slow, until my lungs feel like bursting. And still, I don’t move, only listen. Fire crackles, and it’s quiet. I don’t open my eyes and I don’t allow my eyelids to flutter.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Slow and easy. Relaxed. Unsuspicious.

I’ve taken three hundred breaths, and still, I pretend to be asleep. My heart isn’t as frantic, but every nerve in my body is tense and alert. Is Woland here, watching me from the shadows? I don’t know, and I can’t risk making him suspicious. Lutowa said if he suspects I resisted the spell, he’ll dismantle my defenses and make me forget for good, and I can’t allow this to happen.

My breaths are so slow and easy. Four hundred now, each measured and perfect. A log falls in the fireplace, and I don’t react as sparks sizzle. There are no other sounds. No breath. No rustle of clothes, but that means nothing.

When I reach six hundred breaths, I estimate enough time passed to make my nap believable. I pretend to wake up, stretch my arms above my head, yawn. My amble to the bathroom is slow and relaxed, and I don’t look around the chamber, even furtively. I make my eyes bleary and unfocused until it really feels like I slept. Until I am the lie.

Maybe that’s how Woland does it. He embodies the lie until it’s indistinguishable from the truth. But how does he remember what’s true then?

I take my time washing and dressing, then call for a meal. Everything in me screams to go, now, before I have to face Woland again. I don’t think I’ll be able to lie for an extended period of time. I unravel with each too relaxed, pretending breath.

But I must eat, and then, there’s one more thing I have to do before I go.

I devour a meal of bread and turnips and leave, my body buzzing with tension. I force my face to stay relaxed, my breaths even, but my heart hammers with sick dread. Will I meet Woland in the corridor? Will I bump into Rada? Did Woland make my friends forget that I was with them today? What about Wera?Whydid I fight her?

I meet only a handful of rebels on my way to Nienad’s sick chamber, and none of my friends are here. Nienad is in, and I plaster a tight smile on my face.

“Woland told me about your plot,” I say without preamble, pretending to be agitated but not angry. “I want to help.”

---