Chapter 13

ChapterThirteen

Katherine wasn’t exactly sure what she’d done to make him so angry. He’d stomped away from her like she’d insulted his very existence. Though, at the very least, he hadn’t fed from her yet. Small reassurances, but… it was something.

What would it be like? To have someone pierce her flesh with their teeth and then drink her blood? It seemed wrong. Abhorrent. Something that only the worst sort of monsters did.

And yet, she was the fool who had offered this. And truthfully, she wasn’t sure why she’d offered it. Katherine wasn’t all that special as she pretended to be.

Maybe he was right. Maybe she just wanted to be a hero.

She meandered through the hallways, comfortable by herself. She probably should have run after seeing those red eyes flash with so much anger, but she hadn’t. Instead, she took her time. Peering through the shadows and trailing her hands along the walls so she could find her way. He’d made it seem like the room would be easy to find, but it wasn’t. Not really.

She looked into six other rooms before she found one with a fire cheerily crackling in a hearth that had recently been cleaned. The bed was too large for her, and could have fit five people in it. Black sheets slid down the sides, and there were no posts around the edges like she’d expected in a place like this.

The mayor’s wife had once had a meeting with all the women in the town. She’d informed them that they were living like paupers, and not a single person would dare to have a bed without posts. In fact, every woman with any means should have one. Not to mention a vanity table with a mirror that wasn’t cracked or warped, at least three different kinds of face powders, and ten different pairs of underwear.

Even the memory made Katherine snort as she strode into the room. No posts on the bed, but at least there was a vanity table in the corner with a mirror.

Then she sat on the edge of the bed and it felt like she was sinking into a cloud.

“Oh,” she murmured as she flopped onto her back. “This is the difference.”

Her own bed was only filled with straw. There were many nights she’d woken with one poking into her side and she’d had to get up and pound the mattress with her fist until everything settled. And it had been filling her room with a very strong scent of mold, so she knew she’d have to empty it soon.

She had no idea what stuffing filled this heavenly bed, but she could only assume it was angel wings and fairy dust.

Even her hip didn’t hurt so badly when she was lying on this. Like the mattress was cushioning her wounded body, easing it into a state of relaxation that she hadn’t felt since before her injury.

The sound of sinister snickering moved up from underneath her bed. A dark shadow pooled beside her injured hip, still shuddering with glee as it watched her. “That was well worth it.”

“You tricked me,” she murmured, although she wasn’t all that angry. “You said he would be intrigued by a woman who could see spirits.”

“And he was, wasn’t he?”

“I think you and I have very different opinions on what intrigued means.” Katherine rolled onto her side so she could look at the little spirit, her head cushioned on her bicep. “He looked more horrified, shocked, and then angry with me.”

Spite snickered again, this time rolling onto what she assumed was its side before righting itself. “He did! Ah, it was perfect. He was so mad at you and the entire world for putting you in his path. Beautiful, that’s what that was.”

And she was understanding that trusting this spirit would be difficult. Her mother had always said spirits fed off of the emotion, but this one seemed a little different. Almost as though Spite had to feed off the actions of humans, rather than just the emotion within them. Because Katherine certainly didn’t want to see Gluttony get angry with her, nor did she want to make his life more difficult.

This was a transaction that served her as well. And her people. If he stopped feeding off everyone else, she had less work, and more people could figure out how to fix this mess of a kingdom they all lived in.

And yet, none of this seemed to be helped by the little spirit still laughing on her bed. Without hesitation, she shoved it back onto the floor. “You’re no help.”

“He deserves it!” Spite shouted from the floor. “He’s a terrible king, and not even remotely a good man. Don’t let him fool you, little human. He’s a monster through and through.”

“That I am,” Gluttony’s voice cut through their conversation.

Katherine should have known he would come to find her. She just thought she’d have a little more time. Wincing, she sat straight up on the bed and tried to look somewhat put together.

He loomed in the doorway, rivaling the Spite spirit’s darkness as he stayed away from the firelight. Almost as though he didn’t want the light to touch him.

She had no idea why. He was a stunning vision of a man, and he must know that. So many women had come here, and clearly they hadn’t run screaming when they saw him. Hundreds of years worth of women, and she knew many of them were good years. Years that were still in the history books as the best time in this kingdom.

That only brought up more questions. Questions she shouldn’t have or care about the answers to. But sitting in a bedroom that he’d clearly cleaned for her, her hands fisted in her lap, his eyes on her, Katherine couldn’t help but feel a strange surge of jealousy in her stomach.

“Is it—” Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t even think about asking. “Is it customary for you to expect the women who give you blood to stay the night?”

It was a stupid question. She knew the answer. The women didn’t stay, ever. They returned to the village, broken and bleeding, so that Katherine or one of her coworkers could stitch them back together.

Somehow, the outline of his body stiffened even further. Board straight, he answered her through what sounded like gritted teeth. “They rarely stay long enough for me to offer.”

She shouldn’t feel any pity about that. She shouldn’t care that women ran screaming from him after he almost tore out their throats. The women were right to run from him.

But as he took one step into the room, the light fracturing around the high peaks of his face, she caught his expression of devastation before he hid it. Maybe he wasn’t ashamed of feasting upon mortal flesh. Maybe he knew that it was wrong and did it anyway. But the fact that he had been alone for so long, and people ran from him? That ate at his soul.

It wasn’t pity that burned in her chest for him. But it was something akin to that.

She knew what it was like to be viewed as different. She knew how it felt to have people look at her as someone that was only good for one thing.

And if her sacrifice could help her people, then she would stay here with him. She’d have to find some common ground, or she’d go mad.

But this feeling had to stop. She had to do something to remind herself that he wasn’t just a man who had been cast aside by so many. He was a monster, and monsters deserved to be punished.

Spine still straight, lip curling in disgust that she couldn’t help, she asked, “So? Do you wish to feed?”

His hands flexed at his sides before he caught ahold of the reaction. Gluttony gave her a little bow instead and retreated that single step back to the door. “The unique circumstance of your abilities have made me question this entire situation. I need a night to consider what has happened, and the implications of your words.”

“That I know you’re a spirit, you mean.”

He visibly flinched back at the word. “Indeed. No one is supposed to know what we are.”

“You can’t really believe no one else knows.”

“Only the wives of two of my brothers. They are aware of our circumstances, though I highly doubt those conversations were taken lightly. They would never betray the men they love.” He cleared his throat, as though the word had stuck in his throat. Love. Did he not believe in the emotion? “This is a different situation. Their partners wished to be with them, and that is why they know what they know. You know nothing about me, nor I you. You could tell anyone, and that is a significant issue to be addressed.”

Oh, Spite had done more damage than she’d realized. Folding her hands in her lap so they didn’t shake, she nodded. “Ah. So you’re going to tell your brothers about me.”

His right eye twitched, and he hesitated before responding. “I have not yet made a decision regarding that.”

They stared at each other, surveying the situation, before Katherine nodded again. “I will wait until you make your decision, then.”

“Good. That is good.” He paused in the hallway, looking down into the shadows like he’d rather be anywhere but here. Finally, he said, “Do you require anything else?”

What kind of question was that?

Furrowing her brows in confusion, she replied, “No. This room to wait in will suffice.”

He nodded once, twice, three times before awkwardly reaching into the room and closing the door.

“How strange,” she muttered, still staring at the ancient wood as she tried to puzzle this man out. Why was he being so kind to her when she was so clearly a risk? His brothers wouldn’t enjoy knowing she existed. They’d kill her, maybe. She wouldn’t put it past the ruthless lot of them to remove the issue on their own. Maybe they would even send assassins to kill her.

Was that why her mother had run into the moors? Had she realized that someone knew about her existence and known it would be easier to take her own life than wait to see what a demon king chose to do?

The door to her bedroom opened again. Gluttony held a hand over his eyes, as though he’d already expected her to begin undressing in his absence.

“Yes?” she asked, again more confused than she’d ever been in her life.

“Spite,” he said, a command in his tone. “You’re coming with me.”

The little spirit rolled across the floor, grumbling the entire way about evil men and villains who thought they had a right to any maiden in their lives. She watched the entire situation with an amused, soft smile on her face.

But then Gluttony parted his fingers, peering between his middle and pointer. He gave her a soft smile of his own. “Good night, Katherine.”

“Good night.”

It was altogether strange, wasn’t it? He admitted to being the monster everyone thought he was. He didn’t hide away from the fact that he was a terrible person doing terrible things. But then he wanted her to have her privacy, and even made certain that the dark spirit who had certainly gotten her in trouble, was gone.

He’d given her this comfortable room and made certain that she needed nothing else. It was...

She would not think about it.

Katherine was going to go to bed, and then she would wake in the morning with a clear head. That’s all it would take.

Undressing down to her shift—what else would she sleep in?—Katherine stood in front of the windows and looked out over the moors as the sun sank and the moon rose. She’d always thought this time of the night was magic. When the moon turned everything to gilded silver and sharp-edged gleaming.

She slipped into bed, massaging her hip as well as she could on her own, and then drifted off into a dreamless sleep. So comfortable, even her usual nightmares didn’t dare return until she woke in the dead of night, certain something was watching her.

There was a chair in the corner, she realized, with an outline of a man seated in it. He shifted, perhaps realizing she was awake. And he slowly moved the curtain of her window so a slash of moonlight turned his pale skin to a lovely shade of marble grey.

Gluttony sat there, clutching a metal goblet so tightly she could see the dents in the metal. His red eyes weren’t glowing, though, and she considered that to be a good sign.

“Hello,” she whispered, tilting her head on the bed to look at him. “Why are you here?”

“I shouldn’t have put you so close to my own bedroom,” he murmured. “I can smell you.”

“I can bathe if you need me to.” She hadn’t thought to bathe before coming up here, obviously. But she’d rather thought it would work in her favor to smell like the almshouse. It was a terrible scent.

The goblet in his hand creaked. The sound was ominous in the dark room. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Oh.” She swallowed hard. Because of course it wasn’t. His eyes were locked on the thundering pulse in her neck, and he clearly couldn’t think straight.

Maybe she had underestimated the situation. He wasn’t acting like a man who wanted what he wanted and would stop at nothing to take it. These were the actions of a man obsessed, of an addiction controlling his body more than it was anything else. He needed, and she had the ability to give it to him.

Nothing had prepared her for this. But she was exhausted and her consciousness was still in that somewhat liminal space between the realm of the waking and the realm of sleep. So she rolled up and then her feet were touching the cold ground. Bare toes already curling, she padded over to him, her limp somehow under control until she paused right before him.

Katherine feared what he could see through her shift. The moonlight glimmered through the thin gray fabric, and she was certain it covered very little. And yet, she still held out her bare wrist for him to take.

He eyed her, gaze wide with some emotion she couldn’t name. But then she nodded toward his goblet. “Take what you need, Gluttony. Then I will go back to sleep.”

She recognized his expression. Disappointment. But he still cleared his throat, nodded, and then lifted a hand that suddenly had long, thin claws. He almost tapped a rather dangerous part of her wrist before she grabbed him. Gently, she shifted that glinting claw to a safer part.

“Here,” she murmured. “Otherwise I’ll bleed out in my sleep.”

She heard an audible click as he swallowed, but then he made a delicate slice and they both watched in silence as her blood slowly dripped into the goblet. There were only a few clinking noises before he stood.

He was so tall compared to her. She had to stare straight up to even look at him, and she could see him swallow before he gave her a hard nod and then fled her room.

“Strange,” she muttered as she turned to find a cloth to bind her wrist with. “Such a strange man.”

It didn’t escape her notice that his hands had been shaking when he’d cut her wrist. Nor did it escape her notice that the cut had been so shallow it barely bled.

And that he’d only taken a few drops of her blood. As though he was afraid to hurt her.