Page 56 of A Dose of Agony
“I’ve never had a real girl friend,” she whispers. Her hands drop to her lap. Her eyes remain distant.
I blink. That wasn’t the response I expected.
“Trevor has really been my only friend for as long as I can remember. I have allies. Subjects. Worshippers. But never someone I truly trusted, except him.”
The crease between her brown deepens.
“He hates me now.” Her voice is both hoarse and soft. “Since he found out what I did. He knew that I’d slipped and mentioned Jarron choosing a mate at Myre Island, but he didn’t know specifics until after you became involved. He’s protected me from harm since then, probably only because his demon instinct won’t let him do anything else, but he doesn’t trust me anymore.”
My heart aches for her, but we both know she did it to herself.
Tears trickle down her rosy cheeks as she finally meets my stare. “Maybe it’s stupid. Maybe it’ll result in my death, but I will trust you too.” She holds out her hand to me, red nails chipped and scraped.
I stand, ignoring her hand.
Her eyes grow big, looking up at me. This time, the fear is clear. She gasps when I wrap my arms around her in a tight hug.
Her body shakes slightly against me before she eases into the embrace. When I pull back, she wipes her eyes.
“I’ll do what I can to keep you safe,” I promise. “And so long as you hold up your side of the bargain, I’ll defend you. I’ll try my best to convince Jarron to forgive you.”
She swallows and nods, sniffling slightly. Then, she stands and crosses the dark room to a rickety wooden dresser, where she pulls out another sheet of paper and returns it to me.
I take the paper between two fingers, eyes wide, staring at the names of the men and women I will personally kill. Before I can dwell long on that thought, Bea clears her throat.
“What have you been doing?” I ask, looking around the room, aiming for casual conversation. We’re officially in business now but without a contract. “Have you been hiding here for months?”
“Here and there.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I have more than one hideout. And no, I don’t do much. I hide like a sniveling coward, feed my monsters guarding the place, keep watch, get updates from Vincent on the war, and occasionally sneak out to get my own perspective on the current atmosphere. Jarron hasn’t sent any hunters for my head, so it’s not too terrible. He’s preoccupied with bigger fish. But if I’m found, he’ll kill me without a doubt.”
“Couldn’t you just hide in the human world or something?”
She sighs. “I’d love to travel to the fae world, but since those portals were all mysteriously closed off, that’s a no-go. I’m sure I could hide in the human world, but I couldn’t just go to another magical school and pretend everything is normal. Since Jarron spends so much time there, he’d find out and come find me. Either way, his demon has made it very clear that he considers me a traitor and a threat to his mate. That isn’t going to go away easily.”
Another scary question rises up on my tongue. “Your plan to earn his forgiveness, does it only work if I’m his chosen? What happens to you if we’re wrong?”
“It works best if it’s you. But if we can save Liz due to my actions, it would help either way. At least my crimes wouldn’t have cost Jarron his mate. I would just have to re-grovel to the other sister at a later date and hope she forgives me.” Again with the casual one-shoulder shrug. There is no brightness in her expression, though. Very little hope.
She’s tired; I can see that much, and I don’t blame her. I can’t imagine what it would feel like to live in hiding, fearing for her life and being separated from her mate.
“Could you—could you tell me more about the V’rta tradition?” I ask. “Everyone is so closemouthed about the chosen mate thing. You’re the only one who ever told me like it is.” And yes, those truth bombs were usually intended to hurt me or manipulate me in some way, but truth is truth.
“There’s a reason for that, you know,” she says. “Take me as your warning. Drop the wrong bit of information to the wrong person, and it puts everything at risk.”
I bite the inside of my lip. “I don’t need specific information about Jarron or Liz or anyone else really. I just want to know if there’s more to the tradition than people are telling me. I mostly just want to understand how you knew. How did you know Jarron made his choice? I keep hearing ‘there are signs’ and ‘it was obvious,’ but what? How?”
“There are some things that only Orizians should know,” she says. “Our chosen are sacred. They’re our legitimate weakness. If these things become common knowledge among the outside worlds, it puts us at more and more risk.”
“Was it because he turned?” I press. Was him stalking Liz that night proof?
“That is part of it. It’s not definitive, but it’s highly unlikely a demon would turn in that situation without a powerful reason. Since we know his loved ones were not attacked, and he was not harmed or threatened, it makes sense to assume something else pushed that change.”
I swallow. Something else. “Why would his chosen cause him to change?”
“Mates are High Orizians’ vulnerability. We are much more volatile around them. Smaller slights or minor threats feel bigger when your mate is involved, particularly if they are a physically weaker species.”
My stomach clenches. That really doesn’t tell me much, though. “Is it true they build a house?” I blurt. It’s such a stupid part to pick out of a stupid book I shouldn’t put so much stock into. It’s just physical proof. Something I can find. Something I can see with my eyes and touch with my hands. “Or what about purring? Is that something that’s related?”
“Candice,” she whispers, leaning forward, her soft eyes capturing mine, “you’re seeking something you’re not meant to find. You can’t line up every box and understand it all in logical ways before you make your choice.”
