But it isn’t.
“Last night, when I touched the Corruption … it changed. Why is this happening?”
Let me show you.
The vision clouds over me, sudden and swift. I see the lake, black and endless. Twin moons, both full. One above in the night sky, one below, reflected on the water. There’s a sigil carved into the ground. It’s just like at the ritual, except I’m alone on the shore.
A rush of power sparks beneath my skin like a scatter of embers. Warm and bright and mine.
Magic trails through my fingers, but it’s different from the magic I’ve seen Arien or Clover cast. It’s dark; it’s light. Shadowed and golden, it covers my skin with a mixture of intense heat and painful cold. The same as the icon in the parlor, where the Lady and the Lord Under have their fingers entwined, light and dark, dark and light.
The rush of power floods through me until I’m sure my heart will stop. I’m in the lake, half beneath the surface. And the water is clear. The shore is smooth.
The vision ends. I am back in the hall.
“I have the power to mend it on my own?”
Not yet. But I could give it to you. You’ve accepted my help before, Violeta. Don’t you want to be able to keep everyone safe?
I do. I do. I want this magic. I want the terrible, wonderful force of this power that would make it all stop. “But I don’t understand. You made the Corruption, why can’t you mend it?”
I can’t. Not alone. It’s grown beyond me now.
“If—If I agreed to this, what will happen?”
Why don’t I show you what would happen if you don’t?
The floor softens, turning to mud. My feet start to sink. Black water pours down, turning my whole body to ice. I’m pressed right against the door, carved wood and a cold handle behind me. The Lord Under moves closer.
What happens when Rowan Sylvanan can no longer pay his tithe?
“He will die.” It’s the first time I’ve said it aloud, and it hurts more than I thought it would to speak this truth. “He will die, and the Corruption will be gone.”
Is that what you want?
He bends until his face is right beside mine. His impossible features shift and shiver as the light cuts through him. He’s there and not there, real and not real. I tip my chin upward. I keep my eyes open, and I meet his darkness.
Do you want to watch it claim him? Take him apart, piece by piece, until there is nothing left? That’s what will happen.
Will you let me help you?
A desperate yes clings to my tongue. But the Lord Under’s help always comes at a cost; I know that all too well. I’ve bargained with him once and paid the price. I can’t do it again.
“No. I don’t want your help.” I flex my hands open and closed. My fingers are wet and numb, but beneath the chill I can feel the faint warmth of power. “I can do this without you.”
Do you think those scraps you have now will be enough? You know, Violeta, by rights that power belongs to me.
“You can’t unmake our bargain.” I tighten my grasp against the door. “You promised—”
He laughs, a sigh and a rush of waves all caught together. The water rises around me, until it’s at my waist, then my throat, then pouring into my mouth. The world becomes darkness, and I’m lost at the bottom of the lake.
I’m lost, I’m lost … But then a sound cuts through the vision. A staccato tap tap tap, like the branches of the apple tree as they hit the glass of the kitchen window back at the cottage. I’m still holding the door handle. I tighten my grasp and let the hard edges bite into my palm. I hear the strange new sound. I tear myself loose from the dark.
The shadows are gone. The water is gone. The Lord Under is gone.
I spin around and press myself against the door with my cheek flat to the wood. My breath steams hot against the carved panels. The handle won’t turn. I wrench it, hard, and it twists with a rusty scrape. I put my shoulder against the paneled wood and shove.
The door comes unstuck, falling open with a breathy whoosh.
I stumble inside, and I slam the door closed.
Chapter Twelve
The Lord Under has released me, but each word, each syllable, of what he said is lodged inside my chest. I can help you.
I wrap my arms around myself, shivering, and look around the room. It’s as bare as a cell. Nothing but an unlit fire and a carved, upholstered sofa pushed up against the wall, flanked by two enormous windows. The vague shapes of furniture in the corners: a dresser, a desk, a chest of drawers. The only light is the outline of late afternoon sun around the heavy curtains.