I walked to the side of the bed and smoothed my hand over the cool fabric of the pillow. It was good to know that some part of him was still human, that he laid his head down to rest at night like everyone else. But could I really sleep in his bed, beneath his roof?
With a start, I realized that the room smelled like him. I had never even noticed that he had a scent. I shut my eyes and breathed deeply. What was it? The crisp edge of a winter wind. Bare branches. The smell of absence, the smell of night.
The wound at my shoulder prickled, and I opened my eyes. The doors to the chamber were shut. I hadn’t heard them close.
“Alina.”
I whirled. The Darkling was standing on the other side of the bed.
I clapped my hands over my mouth to stop my scream.
This isn’t real, I told myself. It’s just another hallucination. Just like on the Fold.
“My Alina,” he said softly. His face was beautiful, unscarred. Perfect.
I will not scream, because this isn’t real, and when they come running, there will be nothing to see.
He walked slowly around the bed. His footsteps made no sound.
I closed my eyes, pressed my palms against them, counted to three. But when I opened them again, he was standing right before me. I will not scream.
I took a step backward, felt the press of the wall behind me. A choked sound squeaked free of my throat.
I will not scream.
He reached out. He can’t touch me, I told myself. His hand will just pass through me like a ghost. It’s not real.
“You cannot run from me,” he whispered.
His fingers brushed my cheek. Solid. Real. I felt them.
Terror shot through me. I threw up my hands, and light blazed over the room in a brilliant wave that shimmered with heat. The Darkling vanished.
Footsteps clattered in the room outside. The doors were thrown open. Mal and the twins charged in, weapons in hand.
“What happened?” Tamar asked, scanning the empty room.
“Nothing,” I said, forcing the word past my lips, hoping my voice sounded normal. I buried my hands in the folds of my kefta to hide their trembling. “Why?”
“We saw the light and—”
“Just a bit gloomy in here,” I said. “All the black.”
They stared at me for a long moment. Then Tamar looked around. “It is pretty grim. You may want to think about redecorating.”
“Definitely on my list.”
The twins took another glance around the room and then headed out the door, Tolya already grumbling to his sister about dinner. Mal stood in the doorway, waiting.
“You’re shaking,” he said.
I knew he wouldn’t ask me to explain this time. He shouldn’t have had to. I should have offered him the truth without having to be asked. But what could I say? That I was seeing things? That I was mad? That we would never be safe, no matter how far we ran? That I was as broken as the Golden Dome, but something far worse than daylight had crept inside of me?
I stayed silent.
Mal gave a single shake of his head, then simply walked away.
I stood alone in the center of the Darkling’s empty rooms.
Call to him, I thought desperately. Tell him something. Tell him everything.
Mal was just a few feet away, on the other side of that wall. I could say his name, bring him back, and tell it all—what had happened on the Fold, what I’d almost done to Sergei, what I’d seen just moments before. I opened my mouth, but the same words came to me again and again.
I will not scream. I will not scream. I will not scream.
Chapter
14
I WOKE THE NEXT DAY to the sound of angry voices. For a moment, I had no idea where I was. The darkness was near perfect, broken only by a thin crack of light from beneath the door.
Then reality returned. I sat up and fumbled for the lamp on the bedside wall. I turned up the flame and surveyed the dark silk bed hangings, the slate floor, the carved ebony walls. I really was going to have to make some changes. This room was just too depressing to wake up in. It was strange to think that I was actually in the Darkling’s chambers, that I’d spent the night in his bed. That I’d seen him standing in this very room.
Enough of that. I threw off the covers and swung my legs over the side of the bed. I didn’t know whether the visions were a product of my imagination or some real attempt by the Darkling to manipulate me, but there had to be a rational explanation for them. Maybe the nichevo’ya bite had infected me with something. If that was the case, then I’d just have to find a way to cure it. Or maybe the effects would wear off with time.
The argument outside my door grew louder. I thought I recognized Sergei’s voice and Tolya’s angry rumble. I threw on the embroidered dressing gown that had been left for me at the foot of the bed, checked to make sure the fetter on my wrist was hidden, and hurried out to the common room.