Her pulse raced, and she tried to clear her head. “I saw myself dead. On the dirt of the Lacus Mortis, I think. A burning room. A woman with red hair and an old man. It was like a part of me wanted to remember, but another part of me forbade it. But mostly. I saw the void. And I wanted to jump in.”
She was warm now, and sweat beaded on her face. She licked her upper lip, tasting the salt.
Bael’s keen gaze seemed to take in the movement, his fingers tightening on her waist nearly imperceptibly. She didn’t need him to keep drawing the magic out. So why am I not telling him to stop?
His eyes lowered to where his hand pressed between her breasts, and he sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t know why or how you pulled that much power at once, or why you’re so drawn to the void. We need to find a way for your body to handle shadow magic without becoming overwhelmed. I’ve always done that by remembering my life. My early life. We’ll have to find another way for you.”
What were Bael’s memories, the ones he rolled over in his mind when the void beckoned? Suddenly, she had a burning desire to know everything about him. She glanced at the black cord around his neck, and she tugged it from his shirt. A thin silver ring—the female twin of the one in her pocket, hung from the end of the cord.
Bael’s hands flew to her fingers, tightening around them.
Oops.
She heard his sharp intake of breath, then he pushed the ring back under his collar.
Swallowing hard, she rose. What the hell am I doing? “Sorry. I really don’t know why I did that.”
“It’s fine.”
He released her fingers, and she dropped her hand. “I saw one more thing.”
“What?”
“You. Shoving a blade into my heart at the arena.”
A muscle tensed in his jaw, and his expression darkened. “I think that’s enough for today. Get some rest.”
Shadows gathered around him, and her skin grew positively frigid once more.
Chapter 35
Ursula stood by the window. In the distance, the sunlight glinted off of Asta’s spire. Despite the pearly rays of sunlight, dark thoughts clouded her mind.
Sitting on the onyx throne, she'd completely lost control, flooded by shadow magic. She'd seen horrifying glimpses of her past, little fragments that lacerated her with horror. And perhaps, she’d seen a glimpse of her future.
Unable to warm herself, she pulled a blanket around her shoulders. Something about her disjointed memories filled her with a deep chill.
Bael had said she'd probably blocked her own memories to forget the horrible things she’d done. And the closer she got to remembering her past, the more she feared he was right. Whenever she thought of the burning room—the red-haired woman, the words kill the king—guilt pressed on her ribs like a hundred rocks.
Somewhere, deep under the fog of her forgotten memories, lurked a wild animal.
And if she didn’t want to succumb to Bael’s blade, maybe it was time for her to unleash the beast. After all, if she couldn't even kill a moth, how could she drive a weapon into Bael?
The odds against her were hard enough without hesitation. If she faltered, she’d be dead. Jaw slackened, red hair stamped into the dirt. The void had been trying to tell her something.
Throwing her cloak around her shoulders, she ran out the door into the sunlight. She hurried over the bridge into the atrium, where the lion’s mosaic seemed to leer at her from the floor. She pulled the lever in the wall. After a moment, the lift clanked down in the middle of the room. She stepped inside the iron lift, trying to clear her mind. The elevator creaked upward past the manor’s empty floors.
On the roof, the lunar wind nipped at her through the wool of her cloak, and she stepped out onto the marble. Shielding the sun from her eyes, she whistled for Sotz. It took only a few moments for his shadow to pass overhead, and he glided to a landing on the roof’s edge.
Carefully, she climbed onto his back, gripping his fur. She squeezed her thighs, sending him soaring over the roof’s edge. The wind whipped over her skin, pure and clean. As she leaned into Sotz, she asked, “Want to hunt?”
Immediately, Sotz swooped toward Asta, beating his wings harder. As they soared for the writhing cloud of moths, the sound of beating wings filled the air. A deep humming that vibrated her very core.
When they reached the cloud, the moths parted, fluttering around them, just out of reach. In the cocoon of moths, the sunlight dimmed, like they were walking in a deep forest.
Just as Sotz arced around the spire, an enormous moth shot in front of them—gray wings with faint purple spots. Sotz dove for it, and Ursula gripped tighter. Time to unleash the beast.