3. Silas

I glancedown the hall when I hear Maven shut the door to the bathroom.

What are you hiding, my blood blossom?

My entire life, I"ve studied magic. When I apprenticed with the Garnet Wizard, I learned more about it than most casters ever do. He was never a fan of how the Legacy Council monitors the craft, censoring certain types of magic and many potion ingredients and grimoires. Instead, he made it a point to teach me more about forbidden magics than the Legacy Council would ever have permitted, had they been aware.

So I know magic. Even the kinds I don"t practice.

But my eyes slip back to the withered plants nearby, and I'm…captivated. I"m also in a great deal of pain, thanks to my broken shoulder and the lingering tendrils of pure anguish left behind from Maven"s…curse? Hex? Malediction?

What the hell was that? And what happened to the poison she was fighting? How could it just vanish from her system?

"Sorry about your shoulder," Baelfire grumbles, drawing his hands through his hair and down his face as he paces like a caged animal.

He"s been stuck in here with nothing to slay to appease his curse for an entire day and night, on top of missing out on hunting yesterday. I have no idea if he"s ever been in a similar situation or how long he will be able to remain in his right mind without hunting, but I suspect his dragon is biting at the bits to get out.

I brace myself against the wall, babying my shoulder. "No, you"re not."

He grunts. "You"re right. You were out of your fucking mind. I"d do it again."

When his pacing increases, and he huffs in frustration, I arch a brow. "The door is unlocked. You could hunt another legacy if need be."

Baelfire grimaces. "See, that"s the difference between me and you. That is my last fucking resort—I"d rather not murder someone in cold blood unless there"s no other option. Besides…"

His amber gaze flicks toward the hall, and his voice turns rough. "She needs to eat. I know she"s pissed at us right now, but I need to make sure she"s taken care of. I just…fuck, I can"t get that image out of my head."

I know exactly what image he"s talking about because it"s haunting me, too. Maven lying broken and motionless on that floor, covered in blood—her blood. We had been frantically searching for her and had just crossed paths with Everett on his way to his office when I"d caught the scent of her mouthwatering blood.

It"s a sickening thing how much the aroma of her blood both terrorizes and entices me.

And walking in on her like that…

To take my mind off it, I drag myself into the kitchen, where I stashed a few of my spare spell ingredients over a week ago.

Uncorking a vial of chimera venom and grabbing dried moonflower petals, I prepare a healing mixture. It"s not a commonly prepared mixture since it is painful to ingest, but I"m a fae. Between our mead and our wine, we have cast-iron stomachs.

Baelfire groans and drops into one of the large couches off the side of the dining room, burying his head under a pillow. I realize his shifter hearing must be picking up on the soft sounds of Maven in the shower, and I don"t envy him.

This situation is hard enough without being hard.

I"ve barely had time to down the potent but disgusting concoction before the Nightmare Prince flickers suddenly into existence beside me, grips me by the back of the neck, and slams my face into the cold marble countertop. I feel the crunch of my nose breaking, and the sudden cutoff from oxygen has me choking for air through my mouth.

Crypt leans down to speak beside my ear, his voice a low, infuriated rasp.

"That"s for trapping me where I couldn"t reach her. And this—" He jams his elbow into my broken shoulder, which makes my brain white out for a second as pain overwhelms everything else. "Is for forcing me to watch that happen a second fucking time."

I don"t know what second time this prick is talking about, but when I sense the warm trickle from my broken nose, I draw from that blood, forcing my depleted magic to lash out at Crypt any way it can. A violent burst of scarlet light flares around me. He"s knocked backward with a satisfying crash.

I straighten and wipe the blood off my nose and chin, but when I glance over my shoulder, Crypt has already slipped back into Limbo. He returns a second later, and I tense, ready to overextend my magic a second time. But he just leans against the dining room wall and digs his lighter out.

As I slump into one of the dining room chairs, feeling the healing concoction hum through my veins and soften the pain, I watch the Nightmare Prince warily. He has dried blood crusted over one wrist, Maven"s blood on his hands, and he looks…uncharacteristically fazed. Perhaps even as rough as Baelfire and I.

Bael says nothing but observes the two of us like he"s waiting to watch a cockfight on which he"s bet good money. He clearly enjoyed that little show just now.

My tired attention zeroes back in on Crypt and how he fumbles with his lighter as he pulls out a cigarette. His hands are shaking so slightly, it"s almost imperceptible—but I notice it just like I take note of the tension slipping from his shoulders after he takes the first deep drag of the odd herb.

Interesting.

Is this a sign of weakness in him I never noticed before? Evidence of strain from being in Limbo? Aside from perhaps being unable to feel true emotion, I"ve never had a solid guess as to what his curse could be. Except now, he clearly feels strongly for Maven.

Or does he?a voice in my head titters.

He"s faking it. He"ll end up hurting her. You should kill him.

The incubus will end you like he ended your family. But first, he"ll watch you go mad.

The voices have been even worse today, twisting my mind and constantly drawing my thoughts back to Maven"s motionless body. They"re making my spine twitch and my head pound.

When Crypt catches me watching him, his eyes flash with warning.

"If you"ve got something to say, Crane, you can shove it right up your ass. And never lock me in Limbo again, or I"ll rip my way into your psyche and make the voices in your head seem like fucking saints."

My jaw clenches, and I glare at Baelfire.

But my suspicion that the dragon shifter is to blame dies when the Nightmare Prince scoffs, "I do my best work in mad minds, Crane. Of course I know that you"re one of them."

He tips his head back to blow out a long exhale of sweet-smelling smoke, and Baelfire snaps, "Now is not the time to smoke, you creepy fuck."

"Smoke shouldn"t bother a dragon."

"Everything bothers me right now. I need to fucking kill something, and it"s about to be you."

The incubus"s typical levity is gone as he ignores Baelfire to look at me. "If Frost tells the faculty or anyone else that Maven was at the scene of the crime, I truly will kill him. Don"t try to stop me."

As a faculty member and not a student, Everett wasn"t locked in this apartment with the rest of us. He went to a big meeting with the other professors and faculty, who are undoubtedly in a tizzy about Everbound being locked down.

It"s never happened before. Then again, neither has an assassination within the Immortal Quintet.

I glance down at my hands, watching the fresh clusters of puncture marks from my bleeding crystal as they start to tingle and seal, thanks to the concoction. I lost track of how many times I drew my own blood while trying to heal her, but whether or not she killed the mage for some anti-legacy plight, I would do it all again.

At least, I would try. I have no idea why my magic refused to heal her.

"When I couldn"t rely on either of you earlier," I mutter, glaring at both Crypt and Baelfire, "Everett is the one who snuck Maven to this apartment while I wiped away all traces of her from that office. I doubt he"ll say anything to anyone else, but if he does, I"ll help you kill him. Gods only know how badly I wanted to when he told Maven?—"

"About the bet you suggested," Baelfire growls, cutting me off. "Fucking fae. You just couldn"t help yourself, could you?"

Whenever we were forced to spend time together as children, we"d made plenty of bets about all kinds of juvenile things. Typically, to prove who was the best. This bet was meant to be a harmless competition between childhood enemies and nothing more—for the others, at least. I was serious about winning Baelfire"s dragon scales, and I intend to collect them later for two good reasons.

But right now, my priority is to make sure Maven knows I wasn"t faking anything for the wager.

I roll my eyes. "Don"t pretend you weren"t the first to jump on the bandwagon."

"Whatever. Unlike you, I don"t trust that icicle prick to keep his mouth shut. Hell, he just screwed us over! What"s going to stop him from telling the Immortal Quintet that Maven was in that room with their dead quintet member?"

I consider that quietly. The tingling in my limbs is softening, and my nose isn"t drizzling blood anymore. I"m sure my shoulder will be fucking sore, but at least the concoction did much of the heavy mending of my broken shoulder for me.

Finally, Baelfire sits up on the couch, grunting as he pulls my bleeding crystal from his bicep. His bicep immediately heals, and he studies the fae-created mineral.

"Okay, are we going to talk about the fact that our adorable little keeper might"ve murdered the headmaster? It sounds fucking nuts, but why the hell else would she have been in there? I mean…even if she"s part of the anti-legacy shit going on, she"s just an atypical caster, so how would she?—"

"She"s not just an anything, so watch your mouth. We"ve all been underestimating her." Crypt exhales another long puff of smoke before tossing down the stub and stepping on it to snuff it out. I note that he"s no longer shaking.

"Easy to do when we"ve learned frustratingly little about her," I mutter. Then my eyes narrow on him. "Were you watching her from Limbo when she was in that office? Do you know something I don"t?"

"I know plenty of things you don"t, Crane."

"If it"s about Maven, tell us," Baelfire grits. "We could have lost her?—"

He cuts off, and we all go quiet when we hear the click of the bathroom door opening down the hall. A moment later, my throat constricts violently when Maven steps into the room wrapped in nothing but a white towel. Her dark, wet hair drapes over one of her bare shoulders, and her boots hang from one hand. Water still clings to her arms, legs, and neck, glistening like miniature crystals all over her tantalizing body.

My cock is immediately demanding attention. I"m not the only one because Baelfire looks like his brain is malfunctioning, and Crypt is instantly at her side.

"Darling," he rasps so quietly I almost don"t make it out.

Maven surveys each of us with a highly guarded expression. It takes intense effort not to adjust my erection, but she already has enough reason to be furious with us without me slavering over every inch of her like a starving wendigo with my dick in hand.

"I have no clothes here," Maven mutters.

"Take mine," Baelfire says quickly, hurrying from the room using his shifter speed to go to the bedroom he"s claimed for his own.

A few seconds later, he reappears and eagerly offers our keeper an armful of shirts, hoodies, and other random articles of clothing. Maven begrudgingly selects a massive dark gray hoodie from the pile. Her attention drifts to my still-healing nose, but she has no outward reaction.

"Well, baby? You gonna tell us why you were in that room?" Baelfire asks bluntly.

"If you"re wondering who killed the headmaster, I sadly can"t take credit."

"Then what were you doing in his office?" I press.

Her dark gaze clashes with mine. "Besides bleeding out on the floor in agony after four idiots used my body to boost their egos? Not a damn thing."

Ouch,one of the voices in my head snickers.

She has a sharp tongue, but there"s a faint undertone of hurt in her savage words that cuts even deeper. Baelfire is right. I was the one who suggested the very bet that hurt her. I"m no fool—I know Maven must be so completely closed off for a reason. Something made her like this. She won"t talk about her past, but my blood blossom must have been hurt deeply.

And now she"s hurting again, because of me.

I need to fix this. Immediately.

"Sangfluir," I begin gently, intending to smooth things over.

Her eyes flash as if my trying to cajole her has the opposite effect. "I"m not interested in your justification."

I continue anyway, determined. "The bet had nothing to do with us wanting you?—"

"Stop talking."

"Maven, please just?—"

I see it the moment her temper flares. But instead of snapping at me or storming away, she does the last thing I could possibly expect. She lifts her chin, drops her boots to the floor, and lets the towel fall away, leaving her gloriously naked.

I nearly bite my damn tongue off.

Gods above, her body is so fucking beautiful.

It"s impossible not to recall just how tight and wet and utterly addictive it was to be inside my keeper. My eyes snag on a water droplet that traces slowly down the smooth, olive-toned skin of her neck before it drips between her breasts, its path veering slightly when it rolls over the pale scar there.

I want to lick away the water and then…sink my teeth into that gorgeous neck.

Fuck me.

I should not have thought about biting her. Now it"s all I can think about—biting and drinking and finally finding out what her tantalizing blood tastes like.

Crypt exhales sharply, and Baelfire makes a strangled sound, gripping his own erection. Meanwhile, Maven holds my gaze as a very clear show of fuck you as she slips into Baelfire"s hoodie, which reaches all the way down to her knees. She adjusts her hair, slips into her boots without bothering to lace them up, and brushes past three extremely aroused, stunned legacies before slamming the front door behind her.

It"s quiet for one beat before Baelfire rubs his face. "Holy fuck. She knows how to shut us up."

Crypt vanishes, no doubt to follow her. But as Baelfire and I stand in mutually frustrated silence, my ears begin to ring. The voices in my head build in volume until their whispers drown out my own thoughts. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to breathe through the cacophony of paranoia swarming in my brain.

What are you doing, letting her go out without your protection? You couldn"t even heal her. How useless are you?

Your keeper will die, and you"re powerless to stop it.

You'll lose her. It's for the best.

The taunting echoes in my skull reach a crescendo until I grip the sides of my head, snapping, "Shut up."

When a low whistle breaks through, and the voices slink back into the corners of my mind, I blink my eyes open. I don"t know how long I"ve been standing here out of my mind, but Baelfire stands in front of me with his arms folded and his eyebrows drawn down.

"Your curse has you fucked up more than usual. I can"t believe I"m asking this, but should I be worried? What are the actual odds that your sanity will last through the upcoming semester, Si?"

It likely won"t, a fact of which I am painfully aware.

I ignore him and his asinine concern, grimacing at the ache lingering in my temples as I make my way to the cabinet in the kitchen where I stored the good liquor. It won"t stop the voices, but I don"t care right now. I just need something to dull this before I lose control of myself and try to kill the dragon shifter again.

Baelfire is quiet as he watches me pour a glass of whiskey, but then he glances longingly at the front door. "Think she"ll still go to the Matched Ball with us? I mean…it"s mandatory, right?"

"I doubt it very much. She hates us," I remind him.

The dragon shifter huffs. "For now. She hates us for now. But we were making solid progress with her before Everett went all Frost on us and ruined it. Call me a fucking optimist, but I say if we ignore that stupid bet like it never happened and work on earning her trust, she"ll finally start to open up to us. And once we all get our heads out of our asses, I think she"ll love being our keeper."

"Fucking optimist."

He smirks, reaching into his pocket before tossing my red-stained bleeding crystal to me. "You"re not gonna like this next part, but if we want Maven to start trusting us with all the secrets she"s keeping in that pretty head of hers, we need to make the first move."

"Meaning?"

"Trust is a two-way street. Maybe we should all tell her what our curses are. Who knows? Maybe we"ll start to trust each other more, too." He makes a face. "Except Everett. Fuck that guy."

I nod in agreement to the last part but carefully consider the rest of his words.

I don"t give my trust away to anyone. Even when I was younger, my parents and their quintet taught me to fend for myself first and foremost. We all kept secrets from each other. I doubt they knew one another"s curses before they were bound together to break them—speaking about individual curses is a taboo in the world of legacies, even among matched quintets.

But whether I like it or not, Crypt and Baelfire both already know my curse. I know so little about Maven that I can"t possibly trust her yet in all the ways I want to, but her learning the state of my mental health wouldn"t be the end of the world.

However, Baelfire"s suggestion about forgetting our little wager entirely isn't an option. I"ll need to get those dragon scales.

But first, I need to find a way to show Maven exactly how sorry I am.