Page 81 of In the Ravenous Dark
Satiating the darkness.
“Rovan.” Ivrilos’s voice is soft. “What are you doing?”
I spin to look at him almost guiltily, Kineas’s hand still pressed to my mouth. I have the misfortune of catching myself in yet another mirror as I do—how many mirrors can one personhave?—and Isee how I must look to Ivrilos, who stands in the shadows behind us. I actually lookbetter, as far as the death rot, but my eyes are feral and red tinged, and my cheeks have a high, feverish flush. Otherwise I’m starkly pale underneath my sigils. Worst of all, I have blood running down my chin and neck.
Ivrilos swallows as he takes me in. I can’t decide if he looks sick or… something else. Hungry?
“You should stop,” he says. “You don’t want to kill him. Not yet.”
Right.Taken with this strange craving, I’ve nearly forgotten why I’m here.
I pull Kineas’s hand away with a wet slurp and wipe my mouth, unable to meet Ivrilos’s eyes or my own in the mirror. It’s easier to look at Kineas, who’s still making strangled noises, his face drawn with pain and terror.
I clear my throat. “I don’t know why I did that.”
“I have some idea,” Ivrilos says quietly. “I’ve heard stories of… of what death magic can inspire in a bloodmage. Of the hunger it creates. You can’t easily sustain yourself with the pneuma of others like a shade would, because you’re still in this world, of this flesh, but youcandrink the substance that powers your blood magic. Do you feel better?”
I nod, running my tongue over my teeth. Trying to savor it.
“Good,” he says, “but it won’t last. If you reopened the way between us, unblocked our bond, I could still help you. I could help you focus. I could take back some of what’s making you hunger, or I could try to feed you in a way that’s not—”
I shake my head. “No! I don’t trust you!”
“Who else do youhave, Rovan? You can’t approach anyone else like this! You’re…” He trails off despairingly.
A monster, I think. “I don’t need to see anyone else. Just the king. I thought you wanted to get a glimpse into his inner sanctum?”
My guardian cocks his head, going as still as a cat spotting a mouse. “That’s where you’re going?”
When I gesture at Kineas, I’m pleased to see my hand no longer looks like it belongs to a festering corpse. It just looksfreshlydead under the smears of drying blood and the sigils of my bloodline, but even my fingernails have grown back. “With him. I’ll get as close as I can, and then after that… I figure the king might listen to me if I threaten the life of his heir.”
Ivrilos arches an eyebrow. “And you think Kineas will cooperate?”
“Let’s ask him.” I release my invisible hold on Kineas.
As soon as I do, the crown prince takes the opportunity to vomit all over the floor. I’m struck by the absurd urge to apologize, but I ignore it. It would be useless to say,I’m sorry for drinking your blood, but not for breaking your fingers. And just so you’re aware, your life is completely expendable!
“Kineas,darling,” I say instead. He flinches away from me. I probably still have blood on my mouth.
“Goddess, you’re a sick freak! Who were you talking to?” He coughs, flailing a bit with his damaged hands. “Are you deranged, or is that your guardian? If it’s him, I command that he stop you this instant!”
“He can’t stop me, because I’ve shut him out. And this is all my doing,” I add, just in case Ivrilos wants to take up his revenge plan another time, if all else fails. “Are you ready to accompany me to visit your father?”
Kineas is shaking. He holds both forearms crossed at his chest. “Why should I do that? If you wish to make an attempt on the king’s life, it’s my duty—”
“You’ll come with me quietly, as if we’re on a lovers’ stroll, because if you don’t…” I use sigils to seize the part of him that will hurt the most. Downthere. Kineas jumps and lets out an undignified squeal. “I’ll break other…things. Squash them to pulp.” Sweat instantly breaks out on Kineas’s forehead. “After that I’ll rip out your tongue. And I’llstilldrag you to the king.”
I’m unable to smother a grin. Drying blood cracks on my face. I must look demented. For good measure, I pick the dagger up off the floor.
Ivrilos shakes his head. “Rovan, this cannot end well for anyone. I beg you, please. I can’t—”
But I’m already using a spare length of peach cloth from the ground—a piece of one of the girls’ outfits, I imagine—to scrub the blood off my hands and face. I have more on the sleeve of my death shroud, but I fold it to where it doesn’t show. My outfit isn’t ideal for visiting the king, but I have to work with what I’ve got.
“Kineas,” I snap. “Tuck your arms into your himation to hide your hands—yes, like that. Now practice smiling. If we run into anyone along the way, tell them everything is fine.”
“No one is going to believe that,” the crown prince hisses as he adjusts his arms under the draping cloth. His grimace is the opposite of a smile. “My father is going tokillme,” he groans.
I shrug. “What’s worse—that, or me crushing your balls and ripping out your tongue?”
