City of Thorns (The Demon Queen Trials #1)(10)

He gave a bitter laugh. “Here I was, hoping for remorse. I thought you might want to unburden yourself before your death. But I see I won’t get that particular pleasure.”

My mouth went dry. “Before my death?”

“You must remember the prison gallows,” he said quietly. “I certainly do.”

I shook my head, my heart thundering. “No. I don’t!” I shouted. “Because for the last fucking time, I’m not Mortana!”

Shadowy magic spilled around him, then shifted in the air. “You’ve been out of the city gates long enough that you will die quickly. You will die like a mortal if I kill you tomorrow morning before your magic returns. It’s not really the death you deserve, but it’s the one you’ll get. You can thank me tomorrow, love, for your mercifully quick death. Assuming you’re not ready to thank me now.”

And with that, he turned and strolled away, shadows coiling around him.

As I watched him leave through the cell bars, the torches flickered out, and darkness filled the prison again.

Forcing myself to take a deep breath, I tried to corral my racing thoughts into a plan. Screaming and begging would do no good. In the darkness, I searched out a dry part of the cell and slid down into one corner. And as I sat in the silence, I realized my first mistake. Dr. Omer would have called me on it right away. You can’t just tell someone they’re wrong—they’ll just argue back. You have to gently guide them to the conclusion themselves so it seems like their idea.

I dropped my face into my hands, my chest tight.

On the cold cell floor, a sense of loneliness hollowed me out. Was I really going to die in this place? Buried with all my secrets? There were so many things I’d never told anyone. Things that were too dark, too scary.

I hadn’t told anyone that the night mom died, I’d been covered in ashes. My senior year of high school, the police had found Mom’s charred body in the Osborne Forest. They’d found me by the side of the road half a mile away, shaking and covered in soot. When I talked about her murder, I could always sense the change in the air. I could feel muscles tensing, breath sucking in. No one wanted the absolute horror of having to hear more about a mother incinerated in a forest. People looked at me differently after learning about what had happened, as if the tragedy had cursed me. And it had.

I didn’t tell anyone how I’d been nearly catatonic, with confused memories of the night. I hadn’t told Shai that when the police had interviewed me, I’d been incoherent, and that I’d been a suspect for a while. All I could remember was that Mom had injured her ankle. She’d told me to run, fast, to get help. I’d known we were in danger, and I’d started to take off in the dark woods. But then I’d heard it—the inhuman sound like a growl. The smell of flesh burning, and her screams. That’s when my memories became muddled, but I remembered a five-pointed star burning bright in the darkness.

The only thing still clear to me from that point on was the bone-deep terror.

After the police interviewed me, they came to the conclusion that I was delusional, possibly on drugs. Demons hadn’t killed mortals in centuries. It wasn’t even possible, they were certain. Have you lost your mind, Rowan?

Eventually, they’d come up with a half-baked theory that the murder was probably drug-related. But that wasn’t Mom. She never did drugs.

At school, the rumors had gone wild. People who didn’t know a thing about Mom had said she was a prostitute, a drug addict. Some had said I’d killed her in a fit of rage—that I’d poured gasoline on her and lit a match.

When I found the real killer, I’d know what actually happened.

“Fuck,” I muttered. Then, louder. “I am not Mortana!”

A sigh sounded from the next cell. Was someone there?

“Hello?” I tried again, this time more quietly. I felt oddly relieved to have company. “I didn’t know anyone else was here.”

The only response was another sigh. Definitely someone there.

Hugging myself, I swallowed hard. “I’m not supposed to be here. I know, right, everyone probably says that, but I’m mortal. I don’t think demons are supposed to imprison mortals. Don’t suppose you know how to get out of here?”

No response.

“I guess you wouldn’t be here if you did. Have you ever heard of someone named Mortana?”

Water dripped into the puddle next to me.

I dropped my head into my hands, my body still buzzing with panic. “I’m not her. I’m not a demon, and I’m not two centuries old.”

Somehow, my new prison friend’s silence only made me want to tell him more. Because the Lord of Chaos was right. I did want to unburden myself, but not because of guilt. My secrets were weighing me down, stealing my breath, and I wanted to be free of them.

“Let me tell you something, prison mate,” I started. “I’m twenty-two. And I can’t die tomorrow. In fact, I refuse to die tomorrow. Do you want to know why? I’ve never even been in love. I had one boyfriend my freshman year of college. He was into comics and played the piano, and he was tall and cute. But he always told me I needed to exercise more, and I started to resent him, and when we finally had sex, it was…so boring. I remember reading the spines of the books on his shelves, waiting for it to end. I remember a mosquito biting my butt cheek. Then he broke up with me for a girl from his town, and that was at. That was my only relationship.”