Page 97 of Thief of Souls
Belladonna conceded Mistmark isn’t her true target—merely a means to sidestep this marriage, since her cousin insists she must go through with it—but she’s not interested in lifting the curse or allowing me to avoid the terms of it unless it’s done.
Mistmark must die before she’ll remove the curse.
She willnotmarry him.
Someone has trust issues, though I daresay I can’t blame her after spending over a week in the Court of Blood. The only hint of softness the lady reveals is when she looks at Anissa, and she absolutely refuses to allow even the slightest chance this marriage will take place.
Which means we’re back to the beginning—but then, I never expected otherwise.
With Falion hovering attentively over Mistmark like a mother duck clucking over its ducklings, Mistmark is out of reach. If Soraya can’t see a way to do it, then it doesn’t exist.
But there’s one person who can get close to him.
One person who isexpectedto get close to him.
Besides, sometimes I can be a little theatrical.
Soraya and I sit in the rafters overlooking the grotto where the wedding will take place. The servants are hauling in boughs of mistletoe and bloodstar. Snow dusts the grotto floor, hiding any lingering remnants of lechery.
“Exits.” Soraya points. “One to the right, one to the left, and there’s the antechamber Malechus likes to use for his more private entertainments.”
I rub my hands together. The snow started last night, followed by a light rain. It was enough to wash away the snow in the garden above, but here in the grotto the protective overhang of rock shields certain corners of the room, and the overall effect is a little chilly.
It’s pretty though.
Especially against the backdrop of scarlet leaves and berries.
“Think you can go through with this?” I mutter. “If you mistime it, then Mistmark is dead.”
“Oh, I know I can.” Soraya doesn’t move, her hawkish eyes surveying the room. “And if he dies, then I can tell father I succeeded in my task.”
She doesn’t even flinch. But I learned long ago that my sister can lock away her heart as easily as breathing. It doesn’t mean it doesn’t occasionally bother her.
“I know you won’t kill him.”
“What?” She cuts me a look.
I blow into my cupped hands. “He got to you. Somehow. And you got to him.”
Color blooms in her cheekbones. “What do you mean by that?”
“You haven’t said a word about the fact Malechus used you to blackmail Mistmark into marriage.” My voice softens. “If he didn’t care, then he would have told Malechus to toss you off a cliff.”
Soraya stares across the grotto for such a long time I’m starting to think she’s not going to answer. And then her lashes lower over her eyes. “Then he’s a fool,” she says, but her voice lacks the chilliness I think she’s striving for. “You can’t fall in love with a weapon. And that’s all I am. That’s all I can ever be.”
“Soraya—”
“And what about Keir?” Her voice hardens. “Since we’re speaking ofcomplications. Is Keir going to be a problem? Because I know your heart is softer than mine.”
The problem with knowing someone as well as this is that they know all your tells. “He’s unaware you’re in play. I can keep him distracted.”
Her eyebrow arches.
“I can,” I repeat. “And don’t give me that look.”
“You’re fucking him.”
I uncap the water flask I have at my belt, focusing on keeping all my emotions off my face. “Why wouldn’t I be? He’s gorgeous.” I aim for insouciance. “Good in bed too.”
