Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

I woke to the sound of bells tolling. Bells that said it was midday. My head felt cloudy, like it was stuffed with cotton that had also dried up in my mouth. Clothing rustled by the window and I froze, my breath catching in my throat.

All at once, memories slammed into my mind, one after another after another until I was gasping and jolting upright to press my hands into my eyes.

"Oh good, you're awake."

Gritting my teeth against the pain in both my palm and shoulder, I drew my knees to my chest beneath the blankets and dutifully ignored the fact Tallon had taken the care to put me beneath them in the first place. The skin around the wound on my shoulder felt tight and itchy. Lowering one hand from my face, I prodded at the wound gently, hissing when I touched the tender and hot skin.

"You seem to have quite the penchant for getting injured, little wolf." Tallon stood beside the bed. Somehow, he managed to look down at me with both a playful twist to his lips and a brow pinched with concern. "How did you come by this particularly gruesome wound? You did not have that at the ball last night."

My mind was not so foggy that I would make the mistake of telling him the truth. Or of asking him why he'd been looking at me closely enough to have known that.

"What is happening to me?"

"It seems to me someone should wrap you in protective padding and lock you in a room where you cannot hurt yourself."

Flinging the blankets off my body, I stood from the bed. He blocked my path and did not move, twitching an eyebrow up along with the corner of his lips. A challenge. Eyes narrowing, I did not back away or skirt around him, instead ensuring my front brushed up against his more closely than strictly necessary. His sharp inhale had me biting the inside of my cheek in victory.

But the small sliver of joy that came with besting him was fleeting. "Why are the Soulshades coming after me here?"

The room between us grew silent and still, and for a moment, I was convinced he'd stopped breathing as he looked down at me. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small tin. When he opened it, the smell of lavender and mint and something slightly spicy filled the room. He lifted it towards me, dipping a finger in the thick paste inside.

"May I touch you, Odyssa? This will help with that," he said, nodding towards my shoulder.

After only a moment's hesitation, I nodded, letting him apply the paste. It stung slightly, and then settled into a cool burning that eased the throbbing and tightness there until it was mostly numb. I didn't know what was in the paste, but if it helped this much, I also knew I likely would not want to ask.

"Did you even clean this out?"

"Zaharya did."

His hand froze, fingers still on my skin. "Did she cause this?"

"No."

He waited, but finally seemed to accept I would not offer anything further and continued until the entirety of the wound was delightfully numb. He took my hand next, spreading a thin layer of the paste over the neat stitches there as well. Wiping his hands on the sides of his pants, he tucked the tin back into his pocket.

"I asked a question before," I reminded him, raising an eyebrow. "Why are the Soulshades so intent on me? I never had this problem living in the city. What is different about the castle?"

His eyes darkened, a morning-mist gray deepening into the color of roiling storm clouds. He stepped away from me, moving with heavy steps to the balcony doors. Back to me, he shoved his hands into his pockets and looked out over the city. "There is a lot that is different about this castle, little wolf. So much."

My eyes narrowed. I rolled my neck to ease the sudden tension in my jaw and followed him to the balcony. I would not be ignored, not this time. He knew something, and if I was in danger—more danger than normal, at least—I deserved to know. Black Death marks stood stark on my pale hand resting on the black silk of his shirt as I grabbed his shoulder to turn him around. He came easily, crossing his arms and taking a step back while shrugging my hand off his shoulder.

"What is happening ?" I asked, eyes searching for anything in his face that would give me an answer, a clue, as to why these Soulshades were trying to hurt me, as to why this castle seemed hell-bent on tasting my blood.

"You received a bit of bad news after the ball last night, did you not?"

"Yes," I said slowly. Flashes of Emyl's handwriting on the parchment came back with a shocking clarity, cutting through the fog I had not realized was still settled around my head. I shook my head to clear it further. "Yes, I did. My youngest brother has come down with the blood plague. I—" I bit my lip, cutting myself off.

"Did you have a nightmare? Is that how you were hurt?" His words were smooth, his head tipping to the side slightly as he looked down at me. The lines in his forehead had smoothed out, but for a moment, something else flashed in those gray eyes. A warning, almost. But even despite it, I couldn't help but notice how, unlike Zaharya, his wording had not implied that I had hurt myself during the nightmare.

"I—" I shook my head again, pinching the bridge of my nose, unwilling to let him distract me yet again. "No, no. You brought me back to my room after you found me in the hall. That Soulshade was inside of me , Tallon. How? What is happening to me?"

He looked at me with a carefully constructed mask, but instead of one made of ornate silver and filigree, it was crafted of skin and muscle. He said nothing.

I pressed my fingertips into my temples, trying to claw through the memories and the haze they were wrapped in. "Tell me the truth, Tallon."

He pulled my hands down from my head, keeping the left one in between us and letting the other fall. "Look at me, Odyssa," he said. He ducked his head to catch my gaze. "What happened in your nightmare?"

I narrowed my gaze. "A truth for a truth, then?"

A quirk of his lip broke through the mask and he inclined his head. "Certainly. You first."

"My brother died, and then his Soulshade dug his nails into my flesh and ripped it. He wanted me to stay with him." It was as emotionless as I could manage—strictly facts, and sparse ones at that—but I still heard how my voice shook. I rolled my shoulders back and met his eyes. "Your turn."

"Odyssa, truly," he said. Dropping my hand, he tilted my chin up to meet his eyes. "I have no idea why the Soulshades in this castle are after you."

"You agreed to a truth for a truth, Tallon."

"I am telling you the truth." He looked at me, an unreadable expression on his face. For a moment, I was convinced he would drop whatever ruse this was and tell the whole truth, but his face hardened and something shuttered over his eyes, turning them dull and lifeless. "Perhaps you need to see a medic. The prince should know if one of his staff is hallucinating being attacked in his home."

I jerked back, anger heating my face and overpowering the confusion at his sudden shift. The nightmare and the Soulshades had already wrought havoc on my mind, and now this. If this was who he wanted to be, this cold and indifferent being, then I could reciprocate. I tucked my hands behind my back and raised my chin, feeling the expression fall from my face.

His eyes narrowed slightly, but his expression did not change.

"The infirmary is not for servants. Though I think you know that."

"Do I?"

I hummed. "I cannot see how you wouldn't. Given that you are so close with the prince."

He looked at me for a long moment. I almost jumped when he moved, once again invading my space and stepping up to my side, our shoulders meeting as he peered down at me. "What a pretty mask you wear, little wolf."

"I wear no mask." It wasn't a mask; it was a wall. One that he would not break through.

"Don't you?"

I raised my chin and rolled my shoulders back. His eyes briefly flicked down to where my gown dipped between my breasts before rising back to my eyes as he licked his lips slowly. Heat unfurled in my belly, but the coldness still in his eyes tempered it.

It was foolish to rise to the bait, but I could not resist the challenge. I rose on my toes and leaned in until I knew he could feel my breath against his neck. "If the prince wants me dead, he'll have to have you kill me yourself."

I dropped back to my heels and stepped away, watching for his reaction.

He tilted his head back and laughed, a loud sound that came from deep in his chest. A laugh like that could not be forced. It was a challenge to keep the frown from my face as he continued to laugh for another moment.

Finally, he was finished. Faster than I could track, he was behind me, his fingers tracing over the marks high on my neck behind my ear and following the lines down to my shoulder. His touch was cool against the hot skin around the wound there.

My eyes closed and I shivered, cursing my body for reacting. It would have been too easy to give in and lean back into him, to play whatever games he wanted and let myself be consumed by the storm. But nothing in my life had ever been easy.

"Odyssa, the prince does not want you dead. But if he did, he would not need me to do it."

"Why's that?"

He moved behind me and then his lips were on my skin, brushing against where my neck curved into my shoulder. The next touch of his lips was firmer, pressed against the top of the deepest gouge in my flesh. I felt his mouth curve into a smirk against my neck. "Well, you seem to be doing a remarkably good job attempting that for yourself."

The familiar heat of shame washed over me, settling in my stomach that had fallen to my knees. It had been another game. And I'd lost.

I yanked away from him, turning to face him. His eyes were dark, nearly black as he looked down at me. "You seem troubled, Odyssa."

"Get out," I said, pointing towards the door. My voice did not waver, a feat I was utterly grateful for. It remained steady and cool despite the embarrassment and anger blazing inside me.

He'd somehow slipped between the cracks in the wall I'd built, and I'd not realized it until it was too late. I'd been willing to play his games at first, but this was not a game. Not really. This was life or death, and I would not let Tallon be the reason I failed my brothers.

"And leave me be. I do not have the time nor the energy for these games you are playing." My hand shook slightly then, and I pulled it back to my chest, palm pressing against my breastbone heavily. "I am not a toy for your amusement, only to be tossed aside once you've broken me."

He'd started towards the door at my instruction, but stopped then, coming back until there was only the smallest sliver of air between us. My eyes widened, but I'd barely had time to react before his hands were wrapped around my biceps and his face was lowering towards mine. Noses brushed and his breath washed over my lips. If either of us had so much as swayed, his lips would have touched mine. His words washed over me, breath fluttering my eyelashes. "Make no mistake, little wolf, you cannot be broken. Especially not by me. Do not forget that."

Those gray eyes flicked down to my lips and for a heartbeat, I thought he might kiss me. I thought I might want him to. His tongue darted out to wet his lips once more, and then he was gone, halfway to the door before I'd even realized he'd let go of me.

His departure renewed my anger and I reached for the nearest thing within my reach and hurled it after him. The pillow hit the closing door harmlessly, bouncing off the wood as his laughter echoed down the hall.

Frustrated tears pricked at my eyes and I ran my hands through my hair, tugging at the roots. Something was wrong. Something was happening here, and I was losing my mind. Rhyon was dying and I had forgotten until Tallon had mentioned it. I clung to the clarity it gave me, picturing both of my brothers as my eyes scoured the floor where the letter had fallen.

Camelya had said I could send a response. How had I forgotten that? Brushing away the tears that escaped, I finally saw the letter on the floor and rushed to pick it up. Flipping it over, I took it to the desk in the corner and began my reply. I could not risk being lost to whatever this castle was doing to me before I replied. Rhyon needed me, and despite that he would argue otherwise, Emyl would too.

Rhyon was going to die. My nightmare had convinced me of that. But there were things I could offer to make it easier on both Rhyon and Emyl, even if I could not be there myself. Chief among them was finding the treatment for when Emyl was inevitably next. Rhyon was not dead yet, but he would be, and then it would be only Emyl and me left. I would not lose my last family to this curse. I refused.

My pen scrawled until the back of the parchment was covered in my tiny, cramped writing. It wasn't enough; I had so much more to say, but it would have to do. I set it carefully flat on the desk. Tonight, once the staff were awake and beginning to prepare for the party, I would take it to Camelya. And then, I would find that damned treatment and get it to Emyl.