Page 17 of Antiletum
Not wanting to come to terms with the fact that he’s right, I gulp. If it hadn’t been for theantiletumbalm yesterday, my hand would still be dead right now. There’s no guarantee the damage ever would have reversed, not with that scope of magic being used without my bound husband.
“Parliament might disagree.”
Val snorts a bitter laugh with a haughty expression. Ah, his grumpiness ensues.
“What? Doesn’t Parliament regulate it in order to discourage people from misusing their magic just as I did? Eating away at themselves?”
Val drops his fork, inspecting me closely. “Parliament doesn’t care about our well-being, Delaney. Not really. They care about control.” He says it so calmly, so sure, as if the statement isn’t toeing the line of treason and certainly dangerous. No matter who we are. “Who would want to use too much magic, or use it outside of their bond, without the means to properly heal?”
Inspecting my husband, Rainah’s warning blows over me again. “You shouldn’t say such things, Val.”
Certainly not as the new Lord ofNoctua. The singular direct line who personally speaks to the cabinet and ensures laws are adhered to. The face and voice of our faction. Parliament’s figurehead, so to speak. Even I won’t be expected to go in front of them to answer or report. Only Val.
At the same time, it occurs to me that I have been tucked away at my parents estate for almost all of my life. I rarely ever left. How do I know if all I’ve been taught is true?
Not to mention, my parents fortune came from farmingantiletum, every bit of it purchased by Parliament and generally sold to theVulpesgovernment, their faction being in short supply. Would that not sway the opinions spoken in our household? Something uncomfortable slithers through me. Just another instance of not knowing what to believe.
We stare at each other, the air thick between us. This is the first true conversation I’ve had with my husband—thanks to the fact that I have been literally trying to hide from him.
“What changed, Delaney?” Val practically pleads.
Oh, what a lovely, unexpected change in topic to add to my overall morning discombobulation.
Val’s pained question gives me pause. Energy between us ripples with Val’s new demeanor, the expression crossing over his face becoming sad and infinitely longing.
The beginnings of conspiracy crumble away like ash as our conversation shifts. “I know the circumstances of our wedding were unexpected and… peculiar. But you seemed happy that night. We were both happy during our wedding and after. Our ride back to the manor. How you let me hold you. And when we fell asleep. Together. With each other. Inourbed.” Val stumbles, becoming less poised in his speaking, a slight mania shining in his eyes. Stopping, he takes a deep breath and asks, again, more calmly, “What changed?”
Beads of sweat pop up over my brow. He hasn’t yet been this brazen about the subject and I wasn’t expecting it now. Val eyes me curiously, waiting for me to reply. This back and forth with myself, thisconfusion, is becoming too much. I fear if I don’t stop some portion of it now—somehow—that I will go insane.
My actions at thespirlinaryand being willing to lose my own hand to magical necrosis prove that abundantly.
“I had a dream that night,” I whisper, forcing the strained truth from my lips. “Of Rainah. She told me not to trust you.”
Val’s head tilts slightly; he goes still. Preternaturally motionless. For too long. My nervousness increases with each silent, unmoving second that he just stares at me completely expressionless. About to spew out more explanations just to end this unbearable anticipation of a reaction, he saves me from doing so with a loud huff.
Val sits back hard in his seat, rolling his shoulders, thick arms crossing over his chest. “A dream?” His blankness washes away. Irritation crawls all over that deep voice.
Fantastic start on my end to make him see where I’m coming from. Very eloquent.
“No. Not really a dream. It was more than that. It was like my necromancy and her clairvoyance reached out to each other for her to warn me from beyond not to trust you.”
The irritation Val wore is half-heartedly hidden away, but I can tell he’s struggling to rein it in fully. In truth, a part of me can’t really blame him. If Val came to me and said, “Sorry, I can’t possibly spend time with you or let you in because my dead sibling told me not to,” I dare say I would be furious.
Val swallows hard. “So.”
Deos.
That single, clipped word in that particular tone is downright terrifying.
NowIswallow. But probably for different reasons.
“You deny our union immediately after it’s solidified because your sister told you—from the grave—not to trust me?”
Well, when he says it like that…
Spine straightening, I refuse to be disregarded. Especially given the subtle connotations of our short talk about Parliament. It’s entirely plausible the premonition had merit. Maybe I shouldn’t trust him. Val is the voice of Parliament, what does it mean that he clearly harbors such resentment for theNoctuagoverning body?
“Yes. That’s right. I’ve never had cause to not trust my magic, or my sister, and as I said, it was not simply a dream.”
