Page 3 of Tales of a Deadly Devotion
Thean Page sat in the shadowed corner close to Kat’s desk, the voyav’s usual cruel, mocking smile absent as they nursed a glass of wine with little interest. Despite being in female form, they wore ill-fitting men’s clothes, as if they hadn’t noticed they’d shifted. The richness of the dark wine staining their full bottom lip.
A thick air of apprehension lingered around the voyav like pipe smoke. Another game they were playing and one I wouldn’t be fooled by. Nor the fact that they seemed to have become some kind of personal footman to Blackthorn, hunting down herbs, tonics and black-market remedies at his command. Night and day.
As if they cared. Cared about the madness that had consumed this house with grief.
The dark circles beneath their strange amber eyes were the only evidence of the burden of their tasks and the barely healed scabs over their knuckles from whatever resistance they’d endured.
‘The venom has entered her blood, Emrys.’ Gideon Swift slammed his palm down onto the desk, tension stiffening his back, as he ignored the items that toppled to the carpet. ‘She’s beyond my skill!’
‘Everything is these days.’ There was a harshness to Emrys’s words that matched his curled fists. His features were sharper in the dim fire’s light, his clothes crumpled, sleeves ink-stained and torn at the cuffs.
Unease crawled down my spine, making me glance at the voyav. Seeing how they watched the lord warily. Preparing for a building storm that would give no warning when it broke. Vicious and uncontrollable.
Then I noted the shadows creeping beneath Blackthorn’s skin at the base of his collar. How the same darkness danced between his fingers, the fire lying flat in the hearth like a scared beast in his presence.
Exactly how he’d been when he’d brought Kat back. A madness in his eyes, pitch-black with something else.
Verr.
I hadn’t believed it. Couldn’t. Despite the restlessness of the wild magic in my bones. Not until Kat’s wounds were healed and the venom swiftly took its course through her. When his mere touch had caused her to scream out in agony. Her magic sensing the ancient threat in him in those first hours as she’d viciously clawed at her own skin.
It had broken something in me to hold her down, to hopelessly try to comfort her. But it had broken something in Emrys too. I couldn’t ignore that.
He’d recoiled from her side. Hadn’t been near her since. Becoming nothing but some strange wounded shadow chasing the madness of theories, trying to find any hope.
I’d learnt long ago that hope was for fools. For little girls who devoured stories and were allowed to dream. Not for creatures like me.
‘Blood loss, galmoth venom, iron burns and magic sickness,’ Gideon continued, his words breathless with disbelief as his gloved hand raked through his dishevelled golden hair. ‘The cures for that venom are dead. Just as the creature that caused it should be!’
Each word of that truth struck like a blow. Each moment of the agonising last few days flashing through my mind. Only myown grief couldn’t compete with the sudden coldness in the room, how Thean lurched urgently to their feet, wine forgotten.
Shadows crept from every corner, long and lethal across the study’s floor like claws. Blackthorn’s anger made the room creak with unease, books on the table slamming shut of their own accord. Those warning bells from the back shelves of the library began to ring as if they trembled too.
‘Stop it!’ I snapped, feeling the sharpness of fangs against my lip and the tightness of claws at my nailbeds as I charged into the room. ‘This bickering isn’t helping her!’
Days. They’d been fighting fordays.
The darkness eased, the fire returning to the barest glow as Emrys pushed away from the cluttered desk he’d loomed over, unable to look at me as he turned to the fireplace. I understood why.
I was another reminder of that night. Another reminder ofher.
Gideon straightened, cool eyes assessing as embarrassment flushed his high cheekbones and his lips pressed into a thin annoyed line at my interruption. He assessed me with haunted, pale blue eyes. Eyes that appeared to have seen this world before and knew all the answers.
‘You’re wasting time.’ I moved closer to the desk, to where their failed remedies lay scattered with little care. Empty vials and bright powders stained the healing pages. ‘You said we were trying the clawfox venom next.’
‘There are no clawfox samples left. Not even the remaining black markets are peddling them.’ Gideon’s words were clipped with caution. His cold gaze pinned on his brother as if anticipating an attack.
‘Then we try the basilisk herb William harvested.’ I threw out my hand in frustration in the direction of the door.
‘She’s not strong enough to survive another fever.’ The healer’s voice was terse with impatience.
I shook my head. ‘There has to be—’
‘Miss Darcy.’ His tone was stern with authority, making my back rigid. Reminding me too vividly of all the masters that had come before. ‘The best we can do is keep her comfortable and—’
‘Comfortable?’ Emrys turned from the fire, the word sharper than a blade as it cut through the air.
That one word crushed the air from my chest more brutally than any man’s fist ever had, than any keeper or master I’d encountered, making it impossible to suck any more into my lungs with the tightness of my throat.
