Endless Knight(61)

—Until he slits her throat.—


Despair settled over me, as bitter as the cold. We’d failed. And we’d never get a chance like that again. Even my earlier joy at finding Death’s hand clear of those icons had faded. If my friends lived, then why hadn’t Matthew contacted me?

What if they were still trapped in the mine?

I tried to console myself with the knowledge that I’d gained new players for our alliance, but the worry was sharp. Until I managed to escape, I couldn’t do anything to help them. Unless I got this cuff off me.

I told Death, “I will get freed of this thing.”


“Though you’re probably vicious enough to chew your own arm off—I put nothing past you—your odds of shedding the cilice are long.”


My teeth had started chattering. As usual, he’d denied me my coat, my boots. But he’d insisted on me riding with him, to make up time. We must be closing in on his home. “If you believe in this cuff thing, then why are you keeping me cold? Why not give me back my coat?”


“You thought that was to weaken you?”


“Wasn’t it?”


“No, that was for our enjoyment.”


Asshole!

“You should be grateful for the cilice,” he said. “With it, there’s no need to bind your arms.”


“Then why do this now? Why not put it on me from the very beginning?”


“My armor has served me well—I preferred it unaltered. Plus, I never expected you to live this long.”


“You would put a lot of store in that armor. In your first fight without it, you got plugged—twice—by cannibals. I bet you’re still bleeding under all that metal. Which is a definite mood brightener.”


“I’ll heal from these as I have from all my other wounds.”


I frowned. “Do you regenerate like I do?”


I heard him exhale heavily. “You truly remember nothing about me?” He sounded almost . . . troubled by this.

Matthew had told me he’d given me memories of past games, along with some kind of safety valve to keep me from accessing them all at once. Or else I could go crazy like him. So I hedged: “I thought we weren’t supposed to remember, that only the Fool and the current winner know about the past games.”


“And I thought our struggles would prove unforgettable.”


“Anything I recall is because Matthew showed snippets to me. Besides, why should I tell you how much I remember?”


“Why should I reveal how quickly I heal?”


Touché. “Fine. You first.”


“I heal quickly, but not like you. And I retain my scars to remind me of my victories.”


So he had strength, speed, skill, and enhanced healing? “I remember you stabbing me in a desert,” I admitted. “I remember how badly I wanted to live, but you didn’t care. Not until you realized you could touch my skin. You said you’d see me well.”


“The Fool showed you nothing else?”


“Before you tried to kill him? No.”


“If I’d wanted him dead, he would be so.”


“Sure thing, boss.”


“You think I couldn’t have gotten your mortal to drop the Fool’s unconscious body into the deep? The boy was already frenzied to save the female he . . . sleeps with. All it would’ve taken was a few cuts across your pretty flesh, or maybe a jostle of your broken arm. He would have dropped the Fool to rush headlong to you. Then I would have gutted him without even setting you down.” In an absent tone, he said, “I regret not gutting him.”


“Jack’s smarter than you give him credit for.”


“I think he’s sly, like an animal, but you have him under your spell. He, at least, believed that what you gave him that night was worth dying for.”


“You’re disgusting.”


“Merely stating fact.”


“What Jack and I share is more than a single night. That was just the icing on the cake.”


Death’s grip on me tightened, as if he were jealous. Which made no sense. I could accept his attraction—since I was the only girl he could touch—but I couldn’t accept his jealousy. Not when I knew how much he hated me.

“Everyone thinks of you as some kind of earth mother,” he said. “They have no idea you’re a femme fatale, more Aphrodite than Demeter.”


Gran had mentioned Demeter as well.

“You used the mortal to keep you safe, until you came into your powers. Now he is obsolete.”


“I didn’t use Jack. And we will be reunited. We’re fated—”


Death’s arm squeezed even harder. “Do not talk to me of fate.”


“I don’t have to talk to you about anything,” I told him, resolved to say nothing else.

Dusk came and went, the rain pouring with abandon. Late into the night, we rode.

I hadn’t been on a horse for this long a span since riding my old nag Allegra. Jack and I had freed her before we’d burned down Haven, before the arrival of the Army of the Southeast. Would they have captured her? Eaten her?