I tip back my face for one desperate moment. I feel like I’m at the lake’s edge, the water before me—deep and dark and endless. With one word, I’ll plunge beneath the surface.
When I speak, my voice is rough. “I need more time to decide.”
His hand slips past me, only a stir of air, and my breath comes loose. He can’t touch me.
Then the power that flooded me only moments ago turns dim. Back to the faint, small remnants that I had before. With the strength gone, I feel hollow. My heart gives a single, desperate thump against my ribs.
There’s a sharpness in the Lord Under’s eyes. He goes over toward the altar. Touches the pomegranate. The tips of his claws pass right through the fruit, but the inside turns black, the smooth skin charred.
“So. You want more time.” He licks the juice from the edge of his thumb. “You may have until the night before the next full moon. Do you think we can come to an arrangement by then?”
I can’t do this. And yet the answer that sticks against my tongue is a desperate yes. I swallow it back. Hardly even dare to think it. “I do.”
“Very well.” His eyes go to my hand, still smeared with blood. “Let me see your cut.”
Shakily, I stretch out my hand to him. His claws scrape through the air above my bloodied palm. A cold shiver prickles over my skin. He makes a pleased sound as the wound closes into a dark crescent, then he touches his mouth. I look away quickly as I hear him swallow. I don’t want to see it—the stains of my blood across his sharp teeth.
“Goodbye for now, Violeta.” His mouth tilts into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I hope Rowan will have enough strength to keep the Corruption quieted while you make up your mind.”
The shadows around him start to clear from black to gray. His gaze is fixed to mine as a shaft of sun cuts through him. He hangs for a moment, suspended at the center of the paling dark.
His eyes are the last thing to fade. Hard as polished stones.
Chapter Eighteen
I crouch by the stove, the wood box pulled up close beside me. One by one, I feed pieces of kindling into the fire. They light slowly. Handfuls of smoke curl out before the flames lick up.
The new fire dances. I build it higher with more wood until there’s a bank of orange coals and the air shimmers with warmth. I feel the glow of the firelight. I see the flames. But inside I am as endlessly cold as the depths of the lake.
I shut the drafts and put my hands against my face. The newly healed cut throbs. Can I really accept the help of such a creature as the Lord Under? I’ve made no promise to him—yet. But I can’t forget how it felt, to have that power and know I could use it to end the Corruption.
The door from the hallway scrapes open. I get to my feet and brush the dust and ashes from my skirts. Rowan watches me from across the room. Light from the window streams in and turns him to amber and gold, his hair, his eyes, his skin. As always, his dark cloth shirt is without a single crease, and the firelight gleams over his polished boots. There’s almost no sign of him as he was last night. Almost none, except for the way he smiles, hesitant and shy.
Then his eyes go to the table, where I’ve left the knife beside the basket of fruit. A wary confusion darkens his expression. The air still smells of wax and smoke, carried from the blown-out candles in the parlor.
He goes over and picks up the knife, cautiously running his finger along the side of the blade, which is still stained with ruby juice and the even deeper red of my blood. “Violeta Graceling. What have you done?”
I tuck my hand into my pocket, and for a brief moment, I think I’ll tell him another lie. But I know I can’t hide from this anymore. I show him the black crescent on my skin, delicate and beautiful and sinister.
“I’ve done something very foolish.” The truth is inescapable, bitter. “I summoned the Lord Under.”
He drops the knife back onto the table with a thud. He crosses the room and takes hold of my shoulders and grips tight. His expression is all raw betrayal.
“Tell me.” His hands, circling my arms, have begun to tremble. His eyes are wide, full of desperate fear. “Tell me exactly what you mean.”
I tell him everything. How the Lord Under spoke to me. How he saved Arien during the failed ritual. How I cut the fruit and myself to summon him. How he offered me the power to mend the Corruption. Me, alone.
“Leta, how could you keep such a secret?” Rowan stares at me as if he can puzzle the answer from my face. “Even after we—” His cheeks flush and he looks away. “You stayed with me when I gave my tithe to the Corruption. I told you about my family and all the terrible things I’ve done. Even after that, you didn’t trust me enough to say anything?”