Lakesedge (World at the Lake's Edge #1)(59)

“Goodbye for now, Violeta.” His mouth tilts into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I hope Rowan will have enough strength to keep the Corruption quieted while you make up your mind.”

The shadows around him start to clear from black to gray. His gaze is fixed to mine as a shaft of sun cuts through him. He hangs for a moment, suspended at the center of the paling dark.

His eyes are the last thing to fade. Hard as polished stones.





Chapter Eighteen


I crouch by the stove, the wood box pulled up close beside me. One by one, I feed pieces of kindling into the fire. They light slowly. Handfuls of smoke curl out before the flames lick up.

The new fire dances. I build it higher with more wood until there’s a bank of orange coals and the air shimmers with warmth. I feel the glow of the firelight. I see the flames. But inside I am as endlessly cold as the depths of the lake.

I shut the drafts and put my hands against my face. The newly healed cut throbs. Can I really accept the help of such a creature as the Lord Under? I’ve made no promise to him—yet. But I can’t forget how it felt, to have that power and know I could use it to end the Corruption.

The door from the hallway scrapes open. I get to my feet and brush the dust and ashes from my skirts. Rowan watches me from across the room. Light from the window streams in and turns him to amber and gold, his hair, his eyes, his skin. As always, his dark cloth shirt is without a single crease, and the firelight gleams over his polished boots. There’s almost no sign of him as he was last night. Almost none, except for the way he smiles, hesitant and shy.

Then his eyes go to the table, where I’ve left the knife beside the basket of fruit. A wary confusion darkens his expression. The air still smells of wax and smoke, carried from the blown-out candles in the parlor.

He goes over and picks up the knife, cautiously running his finger along the side of the blade, which is still stained with ruby juice and the even deeper red of my blood. “Violeta Graceling. What have you done?”

I tuck my hand into my pocket, and for a brief moment, I think I’ll tell him another lie. But I know I can’t hide from this anymore. I show him the black crescent on my skin, delicate and beautiful and sinister.

“I’ve done something very foolish.” The truth is inescapable, bitter. “I summoned the Lord Under.”

He drops the knife back onto the table with a thud. He crosses the room and takes hold of my shoulders and grips tight. His expression is all raw betrayal.

“Tell me.” His hands, circling my arms, have begun to tremble. His eyes are wide, full of desperate fear. “Tell me exactly what you mean.”

I tell him everything. How the Lord Under spoke to me. How he saved Arien during the failed ritual. How I cut the fruit and myself to summon him. How he offered me the power to mend the Corruption. Me, alone.

“Leta, how could you keep such a secret?” Rowan stares at me as if he can puzzle the answer from my face. “Even after we—” His cheeks flush and he looks away. “You stayed with me when I gave my tithe to the Corruption. I told you about my family and all the terrible things I’ve done. Even after that, you didn’t trust me enough to say anything?”

“I had to do this alone. It was the only way.”

His head slumps forward and he sighs, frustrated. “How could you risk yourself like this?”

Guilt prickles at me, but I don’t relent. “You’ve expected Arien and Clover to risk themselves for you. This is no different.”

“It’s completely different.”

“No, it isn’t. What would you have done, that day in Greymere, if it had been me you saw with magic, instead of Arien?”

He tries to turn away. I reach out, knot my fingers into his shirt, and pull him closer. “Tell me. If I’d had the magic you needed, what would you have done?”

Our eyes meet, and he tenses. I see him as he was when we first met. The Monster of Lakesedge who circled me with feral, watchful hunger in his eyes.

“I’d have gone to your cottage. I’d have asked you to come with me.”

“You’d have offered to teach me to be an alchemist.”

“Yes.”

“You’d have threatened me.”

“Yes.” Darkness starts to spread in lines under his skin. At his throat, more slivers of poison shift alongside the scars, then slowly fade into shadow. “I’d have done whatever it took to have your help. But—” He touches my palm, following the curve of the crescent mark. “I’d never have asked this.”

I curl my hand closed around his fingers. The mark on my palm gives a steady pulse. “You’ve not asked me to do anything. It was my choice to summon the Lord Under. And if I do work with him, that will be my choice, too.”

“Leta, please.” His voice lowers, rough and hurt. “Whatever price he’ll ask of you will be too much. He’ll take you apart, use you up until there’s nothing left.”

“He might. But he also needs me.” I can’t find how to put it into words: how I feel about the Lord Under, the fact that I alone was the one he sought out. That we’re connected. “He needs me just as much as I need him.”

“I know you want to protect Arien, but—”

“I want to protect everyone.”