by Sarina Dorie
“And will you try to be a little nicer to him?”
“No.”
Well, at least she was honest.
It was bad enough when I’d had to worry about the Princess of Lies and Truth coming for me. Now I feared the Raven Queen might break in as well. I had nightmares about her torturing me and drinking in my soul along with my pain. I feared for my mom. Khaba was kind enough to chaperone me on a trip to Lachlan Falls so I could use the Internet café to call her. I warned my fairy godmother about the Raven Court watching her, and told her I’d been abducted, though I didn’t go into any of the details.
She already worried about me too much.
I wrote Elric a two-page letter asking what the benefit was of being allied with his court if he couldn’t protect me from the Raven Queen. I may have ranted a bit. He hadn’t responded to my other letters about the Princess of Lies and Truth, so I didn’t expect him to write me back. I was surprised when his response drifted in through the window of my classroom on Tuesday morning during my prep.
Dearest Clarissa,
I am so sorry to hear about your mistreatment at the hands of our enemies. Miss Bloodmire has heard rumors about the extent of your suffering and reported this information to me. Mr. Khaba has petitioned me not to step onto your campus, as he does not want me to affect the school’s wards. Henceforth, he has asked me to mind Miss Bloodmire to ensure she doesn’t exit the premises of the school to see me and cause further fractures in his system. It is my hope that by following these requests, your life will not be put in further danger.
I will inform my sovereign about your abduction, and his solicitor will petition the Raven Court about this matter. As your “master,” and I do use that term in a legal sense, not how I view our relationship, I am entitled to seek retribution for the mishandling of one from my house. A common Fae policy is that I may ask the Raven Queen to send one of her lovers or kin, and that individual will be tortured to the same extent you were. If this is your preferred method for atonement, you are permitted to be present and extract the torture yourself.
Or if you prefer, the fine I exact from the Raven Queen can be in the form of financial restitution. Is there anything you desire for your classroom? Perhaps an original Vincent van Gogh would alleviate some of your suffering. Or a guillotine for your classroom so you can chop papers and not have need of using Miss Bloodmire’s. Think upon it and inform me what gift you would like from the Raven Queen.
I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that, it would be much easier to exact a higher price for restitution if you lived in my household. My father has asked me multiple times about our alliance. Thus far, you have remained at Womby’s, and you have provided my court with nothing of value. You wear our crest of protection, but you do not mind me, have no interest in marrying me or being my mistress, and our business relationship is hardly reciprocal.
Perhaps if you aren’t too distressed over being temporarily enslaved and tortured, we can discuss the matter of our contract. You did say you were going to give me an heir. I believe we should discuss the resolution of this matter so that you don’t have it hanging over your head and causing you distress.
Yours forever and ever,
Prince Elric
I crumpled up his letter, feeling worse than before. I didn’t have the energy to think about my contract with Elric. Nor did I think a painting from a famous artist was going to make me feel better. Alouette Loraline hadn’t accepted gifts from Fae if they killed or abducted our students. Neither would I in this circumstance.
A price tag couldn’t be put on a person’s life.
I thought of Thatch’s soul. I could ask for that to be returned. I wrote to Elric asking for the Raven Queen to return Thatch’s soul. I doubted he would ask for anything that might benefit Thatch. He would consider it too much of a favor for Thatch instead of me.
I didn’t know how Khaba convinced Principal Dean to stop questioning me. Khaba must have known about my relationship with Thatch from finding us together, but he didn’t say anything. He just watched Thatch at staff meetings, his expression guarded.
Each time I went to Thatch under the guise of needing a magic lesson, he sent me away, more paranoid than ever about Khaba or our new principal catching on. I felt alone and isolated.
Every time I thought about what had happened and the way the Raven Queen had watched with her court, I felt ill. I forced myself not to think about it. My fears invaded my subconscious, and I felt my lucid-dreaming techniques slipping. The horrors I’d experienced in the Raven Queen’s castle snuck into the peaceful dreams I tried to find sanctuary within. Details wormed their way into my dreams: corpses of children in cages, tea made of blood served in fine china, and the betrayal of the man I loved torturing me with pain magic.
Sometimes the pain felt so real, I woke, my muscles cramping.
The only time I felt solace in my dreams was when I dreamed I was a dragon. I felt powerful and in control when I felt my consciousness expand into the cosmos and transcend into this other form.
At the Friday afternoon staff meeting, I tried not to stare at Thatch. He didn’t once look my way. After the meeting, he stalked off so quickly I couldn’t follow. The dungeon was locked up by the time I made it down there.
I waited until the hallway with the secret passage was clear to sneak under the tapestry. In the hallway of mirrors, I gazed at him from my side of the portal. He worked alone in his room, his hair pulled up on top of his head in an adorable man bun. He was dressed down to his trousers and a T-shirt.
He’d pulled out a painting and placed it on an easel. He selected tubes of oil paint from a trunk. I wondered if this was one of his prophetic paintings. I couldn’t see what he’d started from this angle. He stared at the canvas, his eyes haunted, his expression morose. I knew he had to be suffering after all that had happened.
All week I had wanted to feel his arms around me, to comfort me and make me forget about my worries, even if only for a few minutes. I wondered what brought him solace and how I could help.
I poked my head through the portal, the surface cold like water. “What do you think about us painting together?”
Thatch stiffened and turned toward the mirror. “I should have known you wouldn’t be able to leave me be.”
He didn’t say it in a snotty tone, just a resigned one. That made it worse. Disappointment blossomed through me. I’d left him alone all week. How much alone-time did he need?
“I just want to spend time with you.” I stepped all the way through the portal, minding the edge of the mirror. For the first time ever, I didn’t trip.
“I need a hug.” I approached him cautiously, afraid he might shrink away.
“We need to talk.”
“I agree. You’ve been avoiding me all week.” I hugged him around the waist.
His arms remained limp at his sides. I stood on tiptoe to kiss him, but he didn’t lean down to allow me to reach him. I couldn’t even kiss his chin when he stood upright with such stiff posture.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
He unhinged my arms from around him and held my hands in his. “I can’t do this.”
“Do what?” All hope and joy crumpled inside me. My brain knew what he was going to say, even if my heart didn’t want to believe it.
He swept a strand of hair out of my face. “You look so much like Alouette Loraline.”
I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or insult. I smiled, feeling awkward, not knowing what else to do as my insides felt as though they were imploding. This was exactly what I had feared he might think.
“Do you know what that’s like for me? Can you imagine how confusing that is?” He leaned in and kissed me, which was even weirder.
His fingers tangled through my hair, curling around the locks, his grip firm as he tilted my head back. His mouth pressed against mine, greedily kissing me. Despite the incongruity of the moment, the question in my mind lingered
whether he wanted me or my mother. Slowly, my body yielded to his touch, all questions melting away. He kneaded the muscles of my back. I melted into his embrace.
His breath rushed against the side of my face. “Do you remember when I told you I was quoting Shakespeare, and you thought I said your mother’s name? I denied it and told you I said Juliet.”
I managed a noncommittal, “Mmm.”
His skin smelled of starlight and the bitter almond of cyanide. I tasted the sweetness of nightshade and the tartness of unripe groundcherry on his lips, not his usual magic. He exuded an aura of poisons.
“I lied,” he said.
I pressed my lips to his. I didn’t believe him. He was just saying that to try to make me mad. He was hurting inside, and this was his way of attempting to push me away. We’d been through the Raven Court together and survived. I completely trusted him.
All at once he stopped kissing me and released me. “You make it too easy,” he said. “You don’t even try to resist me.”
“What do you mean? I’m in love with you.” I smoothed my hands over his chest, stepping in again. “Why would I resist you?”
Some of those happy feelings that had washed over me when we’d been kissing ebbed away, replaced by the sharp edge of reality. I wanted him to kiss me again and make my inadequacies go away. But I couldn’t unhear his words. He didn’t love me.
He loved Alouette Loraline.
He took me by the wrists and held me off. “You don’t get it, do you? This is dangerous for us both. Wasn’t what happened in the hotel a demonstration of that? I lose myself deeper in my affinity each time I use pain magic. The Raven Queen knows my weakness. She raised me and saw me struggle with this as a child. She puts me in situations where I am forced to hurt those I love for no other reason than to amuse her. If she didn’t suspect I feel affection for you, she wouldn’t enjoy making me hurt you.”
I tried to use my good-teacher skills and make him feel heard. “I understand this is hard for you.”
“Meanwhile, you bumble along without question, your loyalty and affection making you blind to the consequences.”
“No. I’m not—”
“We can’t keep going on like this. We need to stop seeing each other.”
“What? No. I don’t want to stop seeing you.”
“It doesn’t matter what you want. It’s what I want. I’ve told Principal Dean I’m taking a sabbatical at the end of the year. I’ve earned it. I’m long overdue.”
My heart imploded into the chasm of self-doubt inside me. “But I thought you loved me. I don’t understand.” I didn’t want to understand.
He turned away. “That’s because you’re an imbecile.”
His words hurt as viscerally as a punch to the gut. Tears filled my eyes, and I stepped back. “Who are you?” This wasn’t the Felix Thatch I knew. The man I loved had been replaced by an evil twin.
“I am the same person I’ve always been. The same sadistic man who tears off your burnt skin or pokes his wand into you to torture you for his sovereign.” As if the wound of breaking up wasn’t deep enough, he had to twist the knife. “Have you ever considered what it’s like for me being in a relationship with you? Have you ever once stepped back from being the center of the universe and thought what it might be like to have to be nice to you all the time?”
I hugged my arms around myself. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“You need to understand what I am. I derive joy from your pain. It fills my affinity and makes me feel powerful. And then later I feel guilty. My conscience tells me it’s wrong, but I can’t stop myself. Do you think it’s easy for me to be in a relationship?”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t think it’s easy. I never said I thought that. I think you’re brave and selfless for trying to overcome your demons. I know it’s easier for you to push people away than to be around them.” It had been easier for my biological mother. From what I could gather, she had given up on trusting anyone else. She had given up on love.
He lifted his chin. “Perhaps you have the empathy to understand why I’m done trying to be nice and normal and patient for you. I’m tired of this charade. If you have any feelings for me, you would have the decency to not make this any more difficult for me and accept my decision.”
“You don’t think this is the pain talking?” I asked. His affinity? The rawness of his soul torn open by the Raven Queen’s prodding?
He snorted. “You would say that. Ever the optimist. No, this isn’t the pain. This is pragmatism.”
I nodded. I wiped away the tears, but the waterworks kept on coming. I did care about him. I wanted him to be happy. If this was what he said would make him happy, then I should respect that—not that I believed it.
“Is that all, then? That’s all you have to say to me?”
He wet his lips. For a moment, his eyes softened. I thought he might tell me he loved me. Instead, he said, “Do you remember when Elric secretly watched our magic lesson? He told you I had used pain magic on you—not as a teaching tool—but out of . . . enjoyment? He wasn’t wrong. I crossed the barrier of professionalism, and I allowed that pain to fuel me. And I enjoyed it.” He swallowed. A hint of nervousness leaked through his gesture as he tugged at the hem of his shirt. “Do you remember when Elric said I touched you inappropriately? That I . . . molested you? Do you remember how I denied it?”
“Stop. I don’t want to hear anymore.” Some words couldn’t be unsaid.
“I was lying. I wanted you. I kissed you and took advantage of you while you were meditating.”
I shook my head, not believing him. Not wanting to believe him.
“I touched you intimately without your consent and told myself it was justified because it was part of a lesson to see if you could resist pleasure. In reality, it had nothing to do with a lesson. I did it because you had rejected me. I did it because . . . I could.”
His words sent a shiver through me. It was the kind of thing a Fae would say.
His lips curled upward, but it wasn’t a true smile. “When caught and confronted with the consequences of my actions, I did the only reasonable thing a person in my position could do. I lied.”
I backed away, horrified. I knew he was a liar, but then so was I. This had to be just another attempt to push me away, to protect me for my own good. Even so, tears spilled down my cheeks. My heart felt as though it had been torn out of my chest and stomped on.
“Have you heard enough? Are you ready to leave now?” he asked.
I nodded, my throat too tight to speak.
“One last piece of advice if you’re to survive in this world, Miss Lawrence.” His lips pressed into a flat line, and he crossed his arms. “Toughen up.”
I flew away from the dungeon, my vision blurred with tears. Felix Thatch didn’t offer to escort me to my room to ensure I arrived safely as he had in the past. I clung to the hope that he had said all that to push me away, to protect me, but if he cared so much about protecting me, he would have chaperoned me to my room.
I kept to the shadows and the lesser used passages, hoping I wouldn’t run into anyone. If I did, I was afraid I might break down and sob. I considered going to Josie or Khaba, but anything I told them would only further their distrust in him.
A minute later, I opened the door to my room, flinging it closed behind me. I froze when I saw Elric. He lay across Vega’s bed, naked. The only thing that separated me from him was a very small book he held in front of his crotch. His muscles were more toned than I remembered. He glittered more than a vampire in a Stephenie Meyer novel.
He looked up from his book, grinning.
I was too stunned for words. How had he known Thatch would break up with me? I turned back to the door.
“Pardon me. I didn’t expect to see you here,” Elric chuckled. “Perhaps I should just—clothes. Indeed, that’s what I need at the moment.”
I was halfway through the door when he took hold of
my arm and turned me to face him.
“What is it?” he asked. “What happened?”
He was in his David Bowie Goblin King outfit with a loose poet shirt that showed off his chest muscles and leather pants so snug it left little to the imagination. That was an improvement to his nudity.
“You planned this, didn’t you?” I choked out.
His eyes scrunched up in what looked like genuine concern. “Planned what?” He guided me toward Vega’s bed. “Did something happen? Did he do something to you?”
I nodded and then shook my head. I didn’t want to tell him. Elric would use anything I said to justify why he hated Thatch.
Elric circled an arm around my waist. “Clarissa?”
I couldn’t suppress the sob any longer. It came bubbling out of me. Elric hugged me to his chest as I cried. He stroked my hair and rocked me. When the tears at last subsided, he handed me his handkerchief and sat me down on Vega’s bed.
“There’s only one thing keeping me from hurting him for whatever he’s done to you,” Elric said. “And that is your regard for me. Say the word and I will go down to the dungeon this moment and drive a stake through his heart. . . .Or something as equally dramatic.”
“We . . . broke up.”
Elric sighed, sounding relieved. “Good for you. You’re so smart. You can do so much better than him.”
I stiffened and pulled away. My gaze drifted down to the edge of Vega’s coffin peeking out from under the bed.
Elric’s gaze bore into me. “You did break up with him? He didn’t—he wouldn’t dare—Did he. . . ?”
“He dumped me.”
“Oh.” Elric cleared his throat. “He is a knave.” He cupped my face in his hands, studying me. His eyes were sad, so much sadder than I’d ever seen him look. “I can have him tortured. Or have him apprehended and sent back to the Raven Queen. Or I can use my muse enchantment to drive him mad. Anything you want. Anything you need.” His gaze flickered to my lips. “What would make you feel better?”
