Endless Knight(88)

You need to get him far from the game, Matthew. It’s not his war to fight, and what he hopes for isn’t going to happen anyway. I couldn’t be with someone who reminded me of grief, someone I couldn’t trust. You need to make him go. It was for the best, anyway.

Over these weeks, I’d come to accept that I didn’t belong with a non-Arcana, which Matthew had told me again and again. Jack, for all his faults, deserved a long life. He wouldn’t get it if he continued to wade into our deadly contest.

For the best . . .

—You’re not ready, Empress. The machines won’t end without Death.—


Yet another decoder-ring statement. My head started hurting as I tried to make sense of his words. I’m almost afraid to ask.

—You sail on weeks of lull, then the storm. The game begins in earnest. You must be ready to strike. . . .—


37


DAY 318 A.F.

“I want to show you something,” Death said as he escorted me back to my turret. He’d done this for each of the three nights we’d played cards this week—would’ve been four but for another one of his excursions.

When he’d returned that next night after, he’d caught me checking his hand, telling me, “Relax. I’m still only one ahead of you.”


Now I asked him, “Show me what?”


He ushered me toward the gym. “A surprise.”


It was as if he knew I needed cheering. The sun had never risen today. Endless night.

Would I grow even weaker? All day, I’d been filled with disquiet. Lark had as well. Even her animals had seemed anxious. Ogen had howled like a maniac. . . .

When Death turned on the gym lights, I spied an unbelievable new addition. In one corner, in front of the wall of mirrors, a ballet barre had been installed. A pair of ballet shoes were tied by the laces over the barre.

A shocked sound left my lips.

Somehow Death had found a barre and toe shoes. Had made the effort to. That’s where he’d been?

“I believe the shoes are in your size.”


As I stared, I imagined him using those refined fingers of his to tie those laces just so. The idea was so sensual to me that I shivered.

He was doing a much better job at seduction than I ever had. I gazed up at him. “How?”


“I source things. It’s a talent of mine.”


He did have a power-over-everything-I-survey vibe. And it was sexy. “You seem to have a lot of talents.” Was there anything he couldn’t do?

Well, except for trust me. Each time we had really seemed to be getting somewhere this week, breaking down the barriers between us, he would shut down.

“Are you pleased?” he asked.

Pleased didn’t even begin to describe my feelings. Ballet. After the apocalypse.

I’d believed that part of my life had been burned away along with everything else. Now I had all the time in the world, toe shoes, and a studio. Despite the rain, I still had enough energy to dance because I ate well, and I slept in a lush, warm bed.

All because of the man before me.

The gift of this opportunity was mind-boggling. Before I thought better of it, I’d stood on tiptoe to press a kiss on his cheek.

He stepped back with his unnatural speed. “Ah-ah, creature.”


“Why do you shut me out? You know any plans I had against you are done.”


His fists were clenched so hard, I thought he’d break the bones in his hands. But not with anger. He seemed to be thrumming with the need to touch me. “Then what is your plan now?”


“I’m getting back to happy.” I explained what my mom had said. “That’s all I want to do.”


“That involves kissing me?”


In a softer voice, I admitted, “Yes, you. I’ve enjoyed being with you this week. We get along well. And you were right before—I don’t believe you’ve ever lied to me. That means a lot.” There was also one other thing.

After months here, I finally admitted to myself that I desired . . . Death. Not just attraction, but a full-out physical need for him.

He gave a sharp shake of his head. “There’s still a game, with immortality at stake.”


I frowned. “I don’t want to be an immortal.”


“Would you not? Never to grow old, to sicken, or die?”


“If there’s one thing I know about myself, it’s that I don’t do well being alone. I’m not built that way. Besides, winning would mean hurting you. I have no intention of doing that.”


“Then you don’t mind wearing the cilice? If what you say is true, then you’ll never ask me to remove it?”


I nibbled my bottom lip. “I worry about Ogen. And it hurts when I overuse this arm.”


Death exhaled. “Even if I wished things could be different, they cannot.”


“It’s like you’ve vowed never to let me get close. Whatever I did to you in the past must’ve been terrible.”


He gave a noncommittal shrug, but I sensed emotions churning in him.

Deciding not to press, I crossed to the barre and collected the shoes. They were too precious to let out of my sight. When I untied the laces, I shivered again to think of his fingers brushing this silk. “Thank you . . .” I trailed off, wishing I knew his given name.