Page 47 of This Violent Light
But nervous?
It’s been decades.
I shove the strange sensation to the far reaches of my mind and knock on Grace’s door. After leaving Oskar in the courtyard, I’d spent the day pacing this manor until there wasn’t a square of flooring my boots hadn’t touched. Eventually, I’d returned to the stone table, and I’d laid atop it, glaring at my statue and then the sun itself.
I hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Even when my body was weak and mortal, sleep didn’t come easily to me. I rarely did it, and when I did, it was never on accident. When I woke, dazed and confused and feeling inexplicably drowsy, I made a decision.
I knock again.
The door opens a crack, and Grace peeks out, eyeing me with suspicion.
“Can I come in?” I ask.
“What?”
“Can I come in?” I repeat. She only stares blankly. “To your quarters?”
“You mean my cell?” she asks. Despite the bite of her words, her voice remains a whisper.
“Whatever you wish to call it,” I say. I clench my breath tight in my lungs, refusing to crack already.
I can be patient and kind and whatever else is required to make her trust me, to help her break the curse.
“Since when do you ask for permission?” She releases the door, letting it fall open. She stands in place, however, crossing her arms over her chest. It’s meant to be an intimidating stance, but she’s pushed her breasts together. Her cleavage teases me from her low-cut shirt.
“Grace,” I say. It comes out more as an irritable huff than her name.
“If I say no?” she asks. She arches an eyebrow, dangling her question from yesterday in front of me.
It’s a reminder that I’ve never given her a choice.
Hopefully, it’s a way to prove I do not have to be her enemy.
“I will leave,” I say. I tighten my fists. I don’t point out that I’d let her say no yesterday too, that I’d walked her back to her quarters, even when I’d wanted to train.
I don’t say anything as she considers it. I make myself wait, digging my nails into my palms, until she steps sharply to the side.
Behind me, Oskar lets out a quiet laugh. I’d almost forgotten he was there, standing guard outside her room.
“You’re dismissed,” I tell him without looking back. I walk past Grace into her room, shutting the door behind me.
With the hallway closed off, I study Grace’s small room. The more I look at it, the more it does seem like a cell. Asingle bed. No other furniture. Not even the mirror she’d requested. The clothes we purchased from Nicasi are folded neatly on the floor, lining the far wall.
“I can get you a dresser,” I say. I nod to the clothes. “Or hooks, if you’d prefer.”
“You’re being nice,” she says, and it’s a blatant accusation.
Though I’ve moved to the center of the room, my knees touching the foot of her twin-sized bed, Grace remains at the door. She has a hand against the stone wall, and she’s watching me with narrowed eyes.
“It’s a new manipulation tactic,” I drawl. Rather than holding her gaze, I look over the room again. “I’ll send new bedding, too.”
“I think manipulation works better if you don’t announce it,” she says.
I ignore her. I carefully step between her clothes and the bed, moving the blankets until I find what I’m looking for. Beneath her pillow, the electronic I purchased for her sits, folded shut. Technically, it’s one of many. Amelia goes to the human world once a week, charging multiple of these at once, so Grace never has to go without.
I drag it into the center of her bed and carefully open it.
It’s flimsy with a black screen and dozens of buttons, each labeled with a letter. A computer, it’s called. I’ve seen them while visiting the human world, but it’s still difficult to understand. They write on these machines. They write and they read and they watch. Everything a person can do in life, humans prefer to do it here.
