Page 140 of Malicent
They’re beneath me.
Sheep for slaughter.
The Nightmother’s melody whispers in my ear, honeyed and hungry. My eyes flick to Arella’s exposed throat.
I could tear it out. Just like that. She would bleed so easily it would make me—
Stronger.
The voice that finishes my thought isn’t mine.
I clench my fist, nails biting into my palm until pain stings me back to clarity.No, I can’t lose control right now.I try not to let any panic rise. It will only strengthen her. I breathe out a slow steady breath, my anxious emotions fleeting with it.
A flash of silver at the edges of my vision makes me glance sideways. I swear I saw Cage—watching me?
No. He’s under compulsion.
I’m going insane.The realization lands softly, not disturbing me as much as it should have.
Arella shifts her attention, now locked onto Cage. He continues to rub one foot, then the other. He clearly enamors her.
She’ll use him, I know it. Intimately.
Good. Let her ruin him. Let her take everything, down to the scraps of his soul.
I almost pray to the Nightmother that Arella’s a soul-feasting parasite. Let her devour whatever’s left.
“I haven’t seen this before,” Arella finally says. “Look at the line work. The markings are rough. Ink rises from the page. This isn’t something made for kindness. No curse is.”
Her laugh is fake and thin.
“I have a theory,” I say, tapping the scroll, “that someone—maybe a manipulator—is transporting something with this into people. High-status targets are turning on their allies with little regard for reason. They die and end up in terrible situations they’d never choose.”
“That would be a curse user. One embedding this into an object, and someone with compulsion guided them into place. If you’re looking for that here,” she flicks her hand, “they’re not here. I haven’t seen a curse user in years.”
She picks at her nails. Bored already.
“I can get you more men just like that one,” I say, dripping my voice with smugness. “I have access to the castle grounds where the strongest mages live. I can bring them to you. One by one.”
That gets her full attention now. Her eyes flare with intrigue and she bites her bottom lip, pausing before she responds.
“I’ll see if the girls know anything. Wait here.”
She glances back at Cage. “Cage, is it? Rub her feet now, like a good little boy.”
She clicks away, each step makes obnoxiously loud clacks from her heels until she disappears behind the curtain. Arrogant woman. Of course she would have no care to leave me alone. She doesn’t know what I possess inside me and this is her sanctuary filled with her minions. She feels safe and in charge.Who am I to shatter her illusion?
“Oh gods, don’t touch me,” I mutter, watching Cage as he moves to kneel.
My protest, naturally, is ignored—compulsion trumps opinion. Still, I can’t help myself.
“I do approve of kneeling though.”
I grin, Proud of my own wit.I’m funny.
He slips off the heel of my shoe and begins to knead the sore muscles in my foot. I squirm, clutching the cushions besideme as his fingers hit the perfect combination of relief and the unbearable tickle at my toes.
“I hope you’re in there,” I murmur, “You’re rubbing my feet.”
