“Untie me or get in.” My voice is husky. There’s a butterfly colony inside me.
Beta Sinta steps closer to shield me from Carver’s view, ordering his brother out of the room. Carrying most of our purchases, Carver backs away with his usual bravado. I blow him a saucy kiss over Beta Sinta’s shoulder, startled when a violent sound rattles in Beta Sinta’s chest.
Carver laughs his way out of the room. Quickly.
Warm air brushes my skin. All of it. It’s Beta Sinta’s heat. He’s that close. I think I’m forgetting something important.
Silver eyes meet mine. “Give me your binding word you won’t leave without me.”
“All right.”
“Say it.”
I roll my eyes and bow, adding a pompous hand flourish. “I won’t leave the bathing chamber without you, O Imperious One.”
His mouth twitches, and I preen, oddly elated that I make him laugh.
Beta Sinta unties the rope, which I think I should care more about. His fingers barely brush my waist, but the contact makes my breath catch and my belly tighten. Tiny flames lick my skin where he touches. I shouldn’t like it, but I do.
The moment the rope drops away, I take a deep breath, dive into the pool, and swim the entire length underwater. Bliss.
I pop up, laughing, and then swim for what feels like hours. My hands and feet wrinkle like month-old grapes, but I keep swimming, Poseidon’s ocean in my ears. Beta Sinta paces the length of the pool, shadowing me. I splash him, and he frowns. I invite him in, and he shakes his head. I don’t know why he won’t join me. I haven’t had this much fun in…well, ever. Too bad he’s such a grump.
Sometime after dark, exhaustion hits me like a Cyclops’s fist. I go limp, my muscles used and tired and so heavy I can barely move. Nothing is pink. Nothing is wonderful. I’m not dizzy or happy, and Beta Sinta watching me swim around naked isn’t even remotely funny anymore. Gasping, I try to turn invisible—that important thing I was forgetting earlier—and can’t. I’m too weak. I try again, but nothing happens. The blood drains from my face so fast I see spots.
Beta Sinta’s eyes sharpen. He takes a step forward, hesitates, and then stops, hovering on the edge of action.
My face flames as humiliation sweeps me into dark places. I’d rather take a hundred beatings than this. This is torture.
My eyes sting, and I fight back tears. Cats don’t cry. But this time, I think I might. Years of dread crash down on me, and I shudder, wondering if I can just let myself drown to save the realms from the calamity of Cat.
Standing in the water, I hang my head, my dark hair floating around my shoulders like a peacock’s fan at midnight. I can see my toes through the water. I can see everything. So can he.
“That’s why addicts stay high,” Beta Sinta says from the side of the pool. “It’s too awful when it ends.”
I sniff. I can’t look at him. I won’t.
“Come.” He holds out the gaudy red drying cloth I chose. It’s hideous and oversized.
He averts his eyes while I crawl up the steps. My eyes hurt. There are shooting pains in my head. I’m shivering. I’m not cold, but I can’t stop shaking. My teeth even chatter, which is an entirely new experience.
Barely holding myself upright, I let Beta Sinta wrap the cloth around me. He pats me dry, his hands surprisingly gentle. His touch is efficient, not overly invasive, and—good Gods, I can’t believe I’m even thinking this—oddly comforting.
I squeeze my eyes shut, for once hating myself more than I hate him.
“Why did you take it?” He leans over me to wrap the cloth more snugly around me. Sooty lashes shield his eyes. Black hair sweeps forward, brushing my bare shoulder.
A tremor runs through me, warmer this time.
“The magic wanted to be inside me.” My voice is as weak as a wisp of smoke. It sounds like I feel. “I couldn’t control it. I-I didn’t even try.”
“It wasn’t his magic. It was a spell.” Beta Sinta straightens. Shadowy in the torchlight, his eyes are like the ocean at night, dark and deep. He’s close, too close, but I don’t have the strength to step back or even look away.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say listlessly. “It’s the same to me.”
He fiddles with the cloth again before tugging lightly on my elbow. “Let’s go,” he says, his voice thicker than usual.
I’m not sure I can. I locate my clothes, take one step, two, and then sink to the floor and curl up on my side, my cheek pressed to the cool marble.