Lakesedge (World at the Lake's Edge #1)(58)

When I’m met with silence, I realize I’ve grown used to my arguments with Rowan, that I’ve almost come to enjoy the swift exchange of words, our matched tempers. In contrast, the Lord Under is immovable. I wonder, for a breath, what I’d have to do to stir him to anger. If it would even be possible. I shake my head. Why would I want to?

“If I could stop it on my own, I would. I need your help, Violeta. You have magic, and you can see me as no other can, outside the borders of death. I can’t ask this of any other alchemist. Not your friend, not your brother.”

“No, you can’t.” I’d never let him go to Clover or Arien, draw them into the dark with his whispers and promises. “If you want help, then I will be the one to give it to you.”

“Yes.” He lifts his hand, and I go still, but his fingers pause over my cheek. The air stirs, cold, on my skin. “It has to be you. I need you.”

“You need me,” I repeat. In the shadows, with the candlelit altar and the smell of ash in the air, my words sound like a litany. “You need me.”

It terrifies me, this truth, but buried beneath my fear is the glimmer of another, more hideous emotion. We are connected. There’s power in this. A wilder, more dangerous power than any magic.

“I do.” The water rises and ripples, a blackened wave rushing across the floor. The room seems to fade as the Lord Under glows brighter. White as the moon. White as bones. “And you need me. You want power.”

“I just want to keep everyone safe.”

“And what do you think power is?” With a smile, the Lord Under holds out his hand, palm upturned. Magic sparks in my chest. It sings through me. The full force of what I could have. What I will have. My whole body hums and burns. “You feel it, Violeta.”

I nod, overcome, and watch the light dance across my palms. The air glows. It reminds me—unsettlingly—of how my magic stirred that day when Rowan touched my hand.

“I’ll grant you this power to use at the ritual, on the next full moon. You’ll be able to cast the spell to mend the Corruption. Alone. Everyone will be safe.”

“That only gives me a single night.”

“That’s all you’ll need. Unless you desire more?” He grins, and I see the glint of too many teeth. There’s a hunger to him, the same dark eagerness that I’ve felt from the Corruption.

“No. One night will serve.” It’s such a short time to wield this power, but if I can cast the spell on the next full moon, it will be enough.

“Then it’s done,” he says. “All you have to do is tell me what you will give up in exchange.”

I look at him, startled by the sting of betrayal. A small, foolish part of me thought he would give this to me freely, because we’re connected, because I am special to him, because he just told me how much he needs me.

But I know, have always known, his help comes with a price. “What would you want from me?”

He laughs. “Do you really want me to set the terms? Go ahead. Promise that you’ll give me anything.”

“No,” I say quickly. “I’ll choose.”

“Go on, then.” His eyes flick to the altar. “I’ll want more than blood and fruit.”

I hesitate. What can I give him? As I search for my answer, he reaches for me, claws scraping past my cheek. My breath catches. I falter back, but he moves forward. The edge of the chaise hits the back of my knees. I collapse onto it.

The light from my magic dances over him. I can see tiny details that I missed before. The branches that wreathe his head are woven with strands of lake grass. He has delicate eyelashes, like a fringe of lichen over stone.

If he can speak to me now, really speak to me, instead of whispers in the dark, will he be able to touch me, too?

I force myself to meet his gaze. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“A pity. I like your fear. It’s very sweet.” He smiles as he runs his tongue over the points of his teeth. His hand hovers just beside my jaw. “Now tell me your offer.”

I tip back my face for one desperate moment. I feel like I’m at the lake’s edge, the water before me—deep and dark and endless. With one word, I’ll plunge beneath the surface.

When I speak, my voice is rough. “I need more time to decide.”

His hand slips past me, only a stir of air, and my breath comes loose. He can’t touch me.

Then the power that flooded me only moments ago turns dim. Back to the faint, small remnants that I had before. With the strength gone, I feel hollow. My heart gives a single, desperate thump against my ribs.

There’s a sharpness in the Lord Under’s eyes. He goes over toward the altar. Touches the pomegranate. The tips of his claws pass right through the fruit, but the inside turns black, the smooth skin charred.

“So. You want more time.” He licks the juice from the edge of his thumb. “You may have until the night before the next full moon. Do you think we can come to an arrangement by then?”

I can’t do this. And yet the answer that sticks against my tongue is a desperate yes. I swallow it back. Hardly even dare to think it. “I do.”

“Very well.” His eyes go to my hand, still smeared with blood. “Let me see your cut.”

Shakily, I stretch out my hand to him. His claws scrape through the air above my bloodied palm. A cold shiver prickles over my skin. He makes a pleased sound as the wound closes into a dark crescent, then he touches his mouth. I look away quickly as I hear him swallow. I don’t want to see it—the stains of my blood across his sharp teeth.