Chapter 34

"What was it like? As a child?"

I sat across from Orin on the picnic blanket, watching the setting sun with a full belly, tender heart, and so many questions about the reality of my life.

"Being a princess was all I knew. My father wasn't kind. I didn't know a thing about my mother. He refused to speak of her. He took down every painting of the two of them and had them destroyed so I could never lay eyes on her. She was his and never mine. He loved her, and when I killed her, I killed a piece of him, too. The part of him that was still human and soft."

"You didn't kill your mother, Dey."

I cut a glance at him, watching the lingering, warm sunlight caress his sharp jawline. "That's how it works. Her death was my first kill."

"No." He shook his head. "You were a baby. You had no control."

"I have no control now, Orin. Even when I fight it, even when I've tried everything else, madness takes over until I'm no longer in control of myself."

"I hate the madness for you. If I could will it away, I would."

"It's not like your life is ideal, if we're discussing the pitfalls. Being bound to Drexel is a dangerous entanglement, and we both know it."

He took a final swig of his liquor before swinging the ice around in his glass. "I'm sure you know he wants you, too. You've been a target for a long, long time. But you have to stay away from him. If he has control of you… he will force you to use that magic. He'll make you perform your murders on a stage in front of hundreds, night after night, turning you into a spectacle."

"It's worse than that," I agreed. "There's something… something I want to tell you. Something no one knows of harbinger magic."

I couldn't believe the words had left my mouth, and the second they had, I regretted it. But how could I go back after teasing such a secret? "You mustn't repeat this. At all costs necessary, you have to find loopholes to make sure no one, not even Drexel, ever knows."

Setting the glass down, he twisted to face me fully. "If it risks your safety, Deyanira, do not speak the words to me. I can't vow them into silence."

"You've given me a home, Orin. You put these amazing people in my life, and I fought you every step of the way. I know you were forced into marrying me, and I know it's not what either of us wanted. It was the worst of circumstances months ago, but there's peace here now. Because you've pushed for it and done things to protect me, even if you felt in your soul I didn't deserve it. I trust you, and this is something I can share to prove that to you. The only gift I can give is the truth."

He nodded. "Okay, Wife. Tell me about the Maiden's secret."

"Our power is not infinite. There's a reason the Maidens of the past didn't decimate the world, regardless of the bloodlust. Because all magic comes with a cost, and the cost is chipping away at the fabric of who we are. It's likely why there were Maidens that died before their hundred years. Never because Death called them to his court early, but because they'd depleted themselves. The reason Death does not call me into his court every night is because the power is too strong, and when wielded too often, I could die."

He considered my confession for several moments, running a finger over the smooth rim of his glass. "Every time a Maiden kills, they use the power? Even if they choose the kill themselves and not Death?"

"Fractionally, yes. When we were in the castle to save Quill, I could feel the beast within me wake. Even though the choice to end the guards had been solely mine, I know Death will come for their souls, eventually. I know without question that I will see every single soul I've reaped again when I enter Death's court for the final time. Even my parents.

"The Maestro is dangerous on many levels. But he doesn't know the boundaries. If he captures me by contract, he will slaughter so many for a show, a thrill. He's been hunting me since I was a child, and the strongest reason to stay the hell away from him, if not for the lives of the innocent, is because he'll put me into a grave."

"I'd never let him do that."

"My father, King of Perth, couldn't control him. Neither can you."

Orin ran a hand through his hair, staring off into nothing. "It's no secret that he wants you…"

I studied the hard planes of his face, the way his steady breaths lifted his broad shoulders, the way the orange glow of light illuminated the amber flecks in his eyes. I could see the guilt on his face, in the turn of his brow. The discomfort was thick in the air, reminding us that our beginning was sparked by Orin's easy lies.

"He can't have me…" I whispered.

"He's a patient man, Nightmare."

"When I was twelve, maybe thirteen, I'd been standing at the door, wondering when the staff would return. My father always sent them away on the anniversary of my mother's death because that's all this day was to him. Anyway, a tall man with bushy black hair and a red jacket and the most elaborate top hat I'd ever seen walked up the circle drive and stood at the base of the steps, carrying a large white box with long black ribbons. I remember he pulled the hat from his head, flourished his hand, and gave me the box. I didn't understand birthdays at the time. I'd never heard of them. But he'd wished me a happy birthday from his boss and walked off. The second my fingers gripped that ribbon, my father shouted my name. He took the gift and made me watch as he tossed it into the fireplace in the grand hall. Maybe Drexel is patient, but I learned how to play this game from a ruthless man a long time ago."

Orin rubbed his eyes with his palms. "I thought having only one parent was something we had in common, but you never had a parent at all, and I'm sorry for it."

"Don't be." I stretched my arms above my head, staring at the final rays of sunlight. "For all his flaws, I know something in him had cared for me. Even if it was only the sliver of my mother that showed through, whether he wanted it or not. He taught me to be strong in a world where the weak never truly survive the hunters." Pausing, I chose my next words carefully. "When I met you, you said I'd killed your brother, your father, and your neighbor. I'm sorry. For what it's worth."

He faded into silence, seeming to slip a million miles away.

So, I continued, if only to fill the awkward silence. "It seems odd to me that Death would choose so many people close to you. Your father and your brother?"

He was silent for a few minutes before answering. "Ezra wasn't my real brother. But he was my best friend. I might have lied about my father. I really don't know who he was. You're welcome to prod my mother for information, but she's never given in to my questions, so don't hold your breath. Whomever he was, I have to believe he's dead now. Because how could he just walk away from her?"

I stewed on that for several moments before saying something I immediately regretted. "Do you think the Maestro could be your secret father? And maybe he never really left?"

His head snapped to face me, his perfectly combed hair falling into his face. "No."

"It's just that… your mother spoke so kindly of him from long ago, like he used to be a sweet memory, and now everything has changed."

"Drexel Vanhoff is not my father. He's my uncle."

I couldn't hide the gasp. "Your uncle is having you tortured every night?"

"When he came into his power, darkness slowly rotted away all semblance of kindness. My mother never danced on his stage. She worked tirelessly for him, cooking and cleaning, and even helped to spread the word about his show. She was beholden to him out of the love of a sibling, long before she was bound."

I thought of Elowen working as tirelessly as I'd seen the others. I thought of the Maestro's men stalking the alleyways at all hours of the night. I thought of the way their eyes had lingered when they'd tried to hunt me, and the fear hidden behind obligation. What horrors and heartache Orin's mother must have witnessed for the love of a brother. "Maybe we shouldn't talk about such terrible things."

He stood, holding out a hand. I took it, letting him pull me to my feet before walking to the edge of the rooftop. His fingers gripped the railing as we stood side by side, watching the final traces of color in the sky melt into night.

"Tell me something happy from your childhood."

I smiled. "I had a friend. Or what I believed a friend to be when I knew no better. Now I'm not so sure."

My ears burned red, anticipation growing in my gut as I considered telling him that I knew about his friendship with Ro. But why was that my business, and why would I risk shattering the very fragile strands of friendliness budding between us? I was not his keeper, and he was not duty-bound to me.

"How'd you meet her?"

"She was older. She'd been so kind when no one else had. She'd protected me in a way and taught me about life in others."

"Deyanira." His eyes were so full of sadness that I wondered if we really could forge a friendship after all. We'd covered the hard topics. The ones that caused such heartache between us, but really, we'd danced around them, as a performer always would.

I waited for him to tell me it was just too much. That I couldn't stay, and though there was something in both of us that may have wanted that, it could never be, but before any revelations could be made, the door opened, and Paesha and Thea joined us.

"Did we miss it?" Thea asked. "Shit."

"Every time," Paesha said, staring at the spot where the sun had just set.

"Are we, uh… interrupting anything up here?" Thea's smile was far too eager, even with a face smudged with ash and her apron covered in soot.

We moved away from each other before speaking in unison. "No."

"Great." Paesha sauntered over to the checkered blanket and lifted our glasses one by one, refilling them with Orin's favorite amber liquor, then handed them to each of us. "Because I need to dance."

I'd heard them up here several times in the past, sometimes with music and sometimes without. But they'd always gathered. It usually started with laughter and fell into silence, slipping back into the house only hours before the day began.

"Happy Birthday, Maiden." The Huntress clinked her glass with mine. "May you see your one-hundredth year with peace."

"Cheers." Thea joined, removing the apron and tossing it to the floor.

"Happy Birthday, Nightmare."

Orin's voice rumbled through me, an edge of sadness laced within. Just when I thought we were burying the hatchet between us, I began to feel as if possibly we'd resurrected it instead, both aware of how hard it would be, of the history that began between us long before we'd ever met. I'd taken the lives of people close to him, and he'd wrecked mine. Or so I thought… months ago.

"Good day or bad day?" Orin asked, turning to Paesha as he slammed his drink back and set it down.

"Bad day," she answered, eyes falling.

He took her hand and pulled her to the center of the rooftop. They swept the blanket away and began to dance, spinning and moving as if they could both hear the pulse of an ethereal song that no one else was privy to.

She spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. "He's never coming back, and I'm not strong enough to get over it."

I wasn't sure what kind of man would ever walk away from someone so beautiful, with so much passion and fierceness, but whoever had hurt her didn't deserve the redemption she clearly would have given. She was heartbroken, which really explained so much about what I'd seen from her. Dangerously loyal and incredibly protective, anyone would be lucky to stand by her side.

After whatever song they'd both heard ended, Orin slipped from her arms and moved to his cello. My heart leapt with anticipation. If anything, I'd learned I would never hear a note of music again without picturing the face he made the second those eyes fell shut as he escaped into his own melodious world.

"It's not a bad day because of your birthday, if that's what you're thinking," Thea said.

"I wasn't," I whispered, because Paesha's ornery smile had been so genuine earlier.

The Huntress extended her body, twisting and turning. Each movement was a carefully orchestrated symphony of sensuality, a tantalizing ballet of curves and contours that seemed to stir the night air. But the second the music had started, that haunting first note that Orin always delivered with absolute perfection, her tears began to fall.

There was no question that every step she made had been performed hundreds and hundreds of times, each twist a conjuring of emotion as she moved, not as a performer in a burlesque show, but more. Divine.

"Dancing with our ghosts again?" Hollis asked, joining Thea and me along the iron railing as he clicked his pocket watch shut and slipped it into his coat.

"I guess so." She shrugged, handing him what was left of her drink.

As the old man tipped the glass back, I couldn't help my burning question. "What kind of a man would leave her and never come back?"

Hollis choked on his drink as Thea's jaw slacked, her usual cheerful tone turning grave. "She traded a life of servitude to the Maestro to save him, but it didn't matter because once the Death Maiden has your name, there's nothing to be done. His name was Ezra Prophet, and he didn't leave. You killed him."