45. A Curse that Devours

Chapter 45

A Curse that Devours

LORI

A ir fills my lungs, expanding my chest almost painfully, a sensation reminiscent of a newborn baby drawing her very first breath. After a second, more fluid gasp, I sit up straight.

The fresh sheets Elio used to make the bed after our journey back to the castle are drenched with sweat beneath my palms.

"Hey… are you alright?" Elio pats my back with a cool hand. "You were thrashing around in your sleep."

Darkness still reigns over the tower. The large window, through which I had fallen in the vision, is now a black void, the moon no longer brightening the night sky. I open my mouth to comfort Elio, but a strange pressure between my ribs prevents me from speaking.

"Did you dream? Is that something a Shadow huntress can do?" Elio asks patiently, rubbing my spine up and down.

I shake all over, my abs coiled in pain, and my knuckles turn white as they grip the sheets. Moving my tongue is in itself a spartan task, my lips and mouth clamped shut by some invisible force.

"Look at him. So ignorant. So…pathetic."

Wait. That voice… The same voice I've been hearing for a while now. First in the maze, then at the carnival, in the mountains, and inside the pit of Ayaan's prison… The voice that just condemned Elio to a cruel, lonely fate.

My voice, but different.

Iris's voice.

"Lori? Are you okay?" Elio repeats.

"Yes," I croak.

An insidious force compels me to relax my stiff muscles one by one, until I melt back into the pillows.

No! It's all wrong. It's my first night with him. You don't get to come in and ruin it.

"What are you going to do about it?" Iris answers. "You came to me, over and over again. A bridge goes both ways."

My eyes are glued to the dark window, my breaths steady as if I'm about to drift back to sleep, but inside, an all-out war is raging. Iris's soul stretches within me, her presence as vivid as if she were actually here, her twin form curling around my body.

Breathing in the air I'm breathing, and talking with my lips.

Setting down roots…

"I knew you were the chosen one. The other queens were too weak to withstand my influence, but you were tailor-made for me. A Shadow huntress with the skills needed to do what I couldn't," she explains.

Get out of my mind! I won't let you use my body.

"The curse made you so I could finally be made flesh again. I'm so grateful to you, sister."

No!

Curses might have a mind of their own, but I refuse to believe that the gods made me to serve as a second-hand body.

Iris prods at my memories, stomping around my brain as though it's hers for the taking. "Do you know how lonely my death has been? I can only appear to the Winter Queen as part of the inheritance she gets when she's crowned. Except for you, of course. You could see and hear me well before Elio infected you with his ice."

Wait a minute… you've been jumping from queen to queen ever since you fled Sara and the afterlife? You're the one who's been killing Elio's wives, one after the other?

"Like I said. They were too weak, but I knew my patience would one day be rewarded. Lightbringer men only use and abuse their partners. I've had years to mull things over, and Ezra was as much of a coward as his brother. You think I'm the villain, but you weren't there. Elio spent all his time playing the piano and moping around, desperate to suppress the power within him instead of embracing it. One day, you'll thank me for sparing you a lifetime with him. You'll see."

Our emotions blur together, and for a moment, I'm gripped by a flash of hatred. My mouth is pasty and dry, my heart pounding as if it's trying to escape my chest—or Iris's influence.

"Elio only cared about stupid poems and silly traditions. He never gave a damn about me or how empty I felt under his rule. In this cold, sterile castle."

Tears wet my cheeks, and Iris angrily wipes them away.

You lied to him and married him under false pretenses.

"I wanted to be immortal. And now I finally am. You and I are going to kill the Winter King, once and for all. And when it's done, I'll finally be alive and free."

My knuckles clench around the edge of the duvet as I try to raise hell and warn Elio, but my eyelids are heavy, and a languid ache lulls me toward oblivion.

"Rest now, sister. I'll take care of things for a while."

The faint echoes of my heartbeat wane, creating a rhythmic thud that merges with the heavy silence dulling my senses. I catch only distant, fleeting scents—cold and metallic, like damp iron.

I can feel myself slipping away into a tiny, drugging crevice within my body—a cell far worse than the Spring jail or Murkwood could ever be. A prison within myself. No ice. No warmth.

Nothing.