Page 15 of As Many Souls as Stars
Cybil spun back to her, eyes blazing. ‘What else do I have?’ she demanded. ‘What else has the world given me? I might be as lonely as you say, Mistress Richter—I know not how long you have watched me for, but I am certain it was evident. Still, I will not quit this place until I am certain I am not needed. I must know that I have tried. That I havereachedfor something, even if it has remained out of my grasp.’
Richter stared at her, and Cybil stared back. The air between them writhed like a trapped animal.
‘It is extraordinary,’ Richter said. ‘Your light.’
‘Pardon?’
‘Yourlight,’ she repeated, and there was something hungry in her voice, a fevered sort of excitement. ‘It is like nothing I have ever seen. And that is a blessing, Cybil. The more beautiful something is, the more beautiful its ruin.’ Richter was suddenly in front of her, somehow, even though it seemed she had not moved. When she spoke this time, her voice was coaxing, seductive. ‘Such a rare thing should be treasured. I ought to have been more… gentle. I can offer you a deal—’
‘There is nothing on God’s earth you could offer me, Mistress Richter, that would compel me to deal with you.’
Richter shook her head. ‘There is nothing of God here. You know that as well as I do. You have seen how the darkness follows you. You areleakingpower, feeding the shadows parts of yourself without even knowing. And these people around you, who are so cruel and so frightened—they sense this, and they shy away. Do you not desire freedom from that? Freedom from their fear?’
‘I…’ Disarmed, Cybil shook her head. ‘I would not call it power.’
‘You deny your own magic?’
‘It is not magic, it is—it is a curse. Itkillspeople.’ Cybil hissed a breath through her teeth. ‘No matter. I know not who you are,whatyou are, but I will not listen to more of this. I shall find Charmeuse, and then shall return to the Hall.’
Cybil made to shove past her. Richter caught her at the waist and tugged her back with an iron grip. Cybil found herself trapped in the circle of her arms, back pressed against Richter’s chest, a mouth hovering over her neck.
‘A curse?’ Richter murmured, her breath cool against Cybil’s skin. ‘How fascinating.’
‘Release me.’ Cybil squirmed against her grip.
‘If I could remove this… curse—would you consider my offer?’
Cybil stopped moving. ‘I am a First Daughter, the Seed of Eve. My family has been cursed for centuries. You could end it?’
Richter inclined her head.
‘… What would you want from me, in exchange?’
‘You,’ Richter said, and Cybil shuddered at the naked desire in her voice. ‘I want you, Cybil. I have from the moment I first saw you. I wish to consume you, piece by piece; and I will give you anything you desire, anything you can imagine, in order to do so.’
‘You could truly remove the curse? Fromme, not only my bloodline?’
‘I am made of darkness itself. If there is a curse, I can end it.’
For a moment—a brief, agonising moment—Cybil imagined it: imagined living without fear of loving, without fear ofbeingloved. She thought of her mother running the comb through her hair whenshe was a little girl, humming songs beneath her breath—before her brother’s death, when Cybil began to understand that her curse could not only summon shadows but end lives. There were times when Cybil wished for nothing more than to return to that childhood peace: when the world’s monsters were in stories and shadows, not the mirror on the wall.
But those moments were gone now, and there was no reclaiming them. Her father was dead, her baby brother the same, her mother a shell of herself. Cybil would spend her life picking up the pieces of the things she had broken. That was her obligation, her repentance. If her father could not absolve her, why would this stranger be able to?
‘Release me,’ Cybil said once more.
Richter’s arms tightened around her. She ghosted her mouth across Cybil’s jaw, drawing teeth against her skin—it felt like the kiss of a blade, nearly sharp enough to cut. ‘Know this, Cybil Harding: you might try to hide from me, you might try to deny me, but we are light and darkness, you and I. There is no choice. Eventually, one of us must destroy the other.’
‘I will never permit you to destroy me,’ Cybil said.
Richter laughed, low and deep. ‘You shall,’ she replied. ‘One day, you shall beg me to.’
She released her. Cybil stumbled forwards.
‘Think upon my offer,’ Richter said. ‘I shall await you.’
Cybil turned around to refuse her—to scream at her, to curse at her, to tell her to leave—but such protests were unnecessary.
Richter was already gone.
