Page 352 of The Spider Queen
“Why don’t you look happier about that?” he asked. “You did the impossible. You bested Lucifer.”
At what price?
When I didn’t answer, he said, “Come on, let’s get you on board.” The ghost oars rowed us back to the ship. Meghan and Dorian were waiting with smiles and tankards of ale.
“Well, tell us everything that happened!” Meghan demanded, shoving a jug at me.
I took the cup and looked into it.
“Meghan,” Aloysius said, his tone warning.
“What? We’ve been here waiting for days and she comes back looking, well, not like herself. Literally. She’s changed.”
“Sheis standing right here,” I said tiredly. “And I look just like I used to look before your desert blistered my skin. And I’m not ready to talk—I’m going to go to my room.”
With my head down, I brushed past them, hearing Aloysius say something to them in a low voice. No doubt he was explaining how he’d found me on the beach. Completely out of control of my emotions.
I was exhausted from being on display, from having my expressions under the microscope. I didn’t want my life choices to be dissected, to be judged by others who didn’t understand what was in my head, or in my heart.
Was I partly evil?
I had to be, right? To love a monster? To love the fallen angel who brought darkness and pain to the world?
He hadn’t scared me in his monster physique. I hadn’t been shocked to see him in his most basic element. Lucifer was stunning. In all his forms.
I was twisted and sick because I wanted him in bed next to me to offer me comfort.
Comfort only he could give me.
I slept for three days and dreamed of him.
When I finally woke up, I was no closer to sorting out my feelings. My dreams hadn’t been an escape. Instead, I’d relived every conversation, every moment, every sex-drenched memory we’d had together.
When I sat down at the dining table, no one made a comment about the fact that I’d been unconscious for seventy-two hours. But they did look at me like I was a bomb ready to detonate.
“How are you feeling?” Dorian ventured to ask.
“Hungry.” I took an apple from the table and then bit into it, my eyes downcast. I had an emotional hangover I couldn’t shake.
Aloysius cleared his throat. “I think we’re getting close to Purgatory.”
I didn’t reply and I saw the three of them exchange a look out of the corner of my eye, but I chose to ignore it.
“Okay,” Meghan said, setting down her fork and staring at me. “It’s time you told us what went down.”
“Why?”
“Um, because I think we’ve been patient long enough. And you’ve been asleep? And my brother has been worried about you.”
“Meghan,” Aloysius interjected.
“What?” She glared at him. “You’ve been pacing the planks.”
Before I’d fallen face-first into bed, I’d taken off the belt and sheath. I had his knife in my room, and I needed to give it back.
I rubbed a hand across my face, but then I told them. Maybe if I had people to talk about it with, then I could process it. An hour later, I was finished with breakfast and the story of how I’d won my freedom. I told them not to ask about my appearance because I didn’t have an explanation for that. I didn’t have an explanation for a lot of things.
Pushing away from the table, I looked at Aloysius. “I have your blade. I’ll get it for you.”
