Endless Knight (The Arcana Chronicles #2)(72)

For the first time, my urge to reach her grew a little less pressing.

“What are you thinking with such solemnity?” Death asked.

“That it’s no wonder I’m different.” I ran my finger along the rim of my glass. “I missed my lessons. Instead of learning how to murder, I was just a regular girl.” I glanced up, saw that his gaze followed the movement of my finger.

He nodded at my icons. “You’ve done quite well for yourself.”

I dropped my hand. “After my grandmother went away”—was committed to an asylum—“I wasn’t taught anything more. I went to school in a small town, I hung out with friends. I was boring, with banal and tedious musings.”

“That really vexed you, didn’t it?”

I shrugged. “Why did you want to see my thoughts anyway?”

“It’s wise to know my enemy.”

“I wish you could read my thoughts now. You’d know that I don’t want to be your enemy.”

He steepled his fingers, as arrogant as ever. His touch might be fatal, but his hands were refined. Like I imagined a surgeon’s would be. “How coincidental. When I could read your mind, you were vowing to kill me, actively forming alliances to do so. Now that I can’t, you say you wish for peace between us?”

“If I managed to get Matthew to restore our link, would you remove this cuff?”

“Not until I remove you from the game.” His tone was matter-of-fact, all reigning victor.

Which reminded me that I wasn’t here to make friends. “What was the deal you made with Matthew anyway? The one that forced him to give you access to my head?”

“All you need to know is that he’s broken it. By doing so, he’s lost honor. It will hurt him in future games.”

Just as my past broken promises had hurt me in this game. “But you broke a deal with me. I went with you in the mine, but you let Ogen continue battering the mountain.”

“My deal was that your friends wouldn’t be killed. They live yet. Empress, I haven’t lied to you.”

“What does that mean? Who has lied to me?”

Another stony stare.

Deciding he was just winding me up, I changed the subject. “What’s immortal life like?”

“Long.”

“Okay.” Awkward silence. Casting about for something to say, I asked, “Are the paintings in the hall Italian Renaissance?”

He appeared surprised. “They are. You know art?”

“I used to paint before the Flash.” Before such pastimes had become impossible. Things I’d enjoyed like dance, art, and reading had faded to distant memories when I was desperately sourcing for food and shelter each and every day. “I was fascinated by the Italian painters.”

When I’d taken an art history elective in school, I’d read and reread their chapter in my textbook, imagining the excitement of the era, the revelry and passion. My favorite painting had been del Cossa’s Triumph of Venus, but I doubted Death would appreciate that.

“It was a time of great advancement,” he said, as if with pride.

I gasped. “You were there, weren’t you?” When he inclined his head, I asked, “Were you in Florence? Or maybe Venice?” I sighed to remember how beautiful those cities had looked.

He gazed away. “I preferred more rural locales.”

Realization. He would have avoided densely populated areas, fearing he might touch others. He never would have enjoyed revelry or passion, because he wouldn’t have had friends or lovers. He must always have been on guard. “Sometimes I forget that you can’t touch others. Well, anyone but me.”

His upper arm strained, like he was clenching his fist beneath the desk. “I never forget.”

Whenever Jack was angry or frustrated, a muscle would tick in his jaw. Was a clenched fist Death’s tell? “So you lived out in the country, away from all the excitement?”

“I had everything I needed.”

I imagined him secluded in some echoing villa, all by himself, reading his books. “Any friends?”

“Mortals die so readily. I make an effort not to grow attached to anyone. Just as I never keep pets.”

“Except for your horse. How’d you find one with red eyes? Is he immortal too?”

Death shook his head. “Any steed I claim as my own grows red-eyed.”

“And you named him Thanatos? It’s catchy. Really.”

“It’s the name of a death deity. Do avail yourself of the library. Improve your mind.”

I ground my teeth. Though I wanted to point out how useless studying would be if he planned to kill me soon, I said, “Great idea.” I rose, crossing to his bookshelves. “I’ll start with your favorite book.” Then I’d have to return it to him here.

“I meant from the other library.”

Over my shoulder, I said, “I want to read what you like.”

“You have an entire collection at your disposal, but you desire a title from my personal one? Do you comprehend how valuable these books are? How much care I’ve taken over centuries to keep them pristine?”

I faced him. “Because they’re first editions.”

“Because they’re mine. I’ve spent fortunes to keep them safe in all my different homes, in all my wanderings. Through wars and catastrophes, I protected them.”