them. Her about-face had been impressive. Of course she’d love the idea of them once they weren’t actively bullying her; Cly looked up to bullies, because she wanted to be one. Aegis had left hurriedly alongside her, unwilling to even look at me. He had done something too terrible for even his skills at rationalization.
It was Cly’s, now, the life I’d made with my blood and sweat and scheming. Was that was power was, to steal what no one should be able to steal?
My vision blurred. The window became a dull smear of color. The four walls of the room closed in. I could hardly breathe.
Had any of it been real? Had any of it been mine?
I heard a voice outside the window. Darshan’s voice.
“Cly! You didn’t show up to work on the project this morning. I came to see if you were all right.”
“You? Why are you here?” With slow horror, I realized when the real Cly had last seen him. “Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?”
“Cly? Aegis? What’s going on?”
“Aegis,” said Cly. “Grab him.”
I half-fell, half-lurched from the sofa. Even knowing it was useless, even knowing anything I did would make things worse, I couldn’t help it.
In the distance, Darshan cried out in pain. My knees buckled. The ground crashed toward me.
“I’ll give you a reminder,” said Cly.
I threw myself toward them until the shackle stopped me, and then I kept doing it anyway. Through the pounding of my heart, I heard each blow. Each cry. My wrist was hot with blood.
“Now get out of my way,” said Cly.
“Please,” said Darshan, so weakly I hardly heard him over my own ragged breathing. “Please, just tell me what’s going on.”
Cly hit him again, and something at last broke open in me.
I was crying. Because I was useless. Because I wanted to kill Cly. Because I would give anything to take every one of those blows for Darshan.
My tears splattered across the floorboards. I curled in on myself, muffling my sobs between my knees. Everything I’d built had burned. I was back where I’d started, and I’d ravaged everyone I cared for in the process.
I cried until my body ran out of water, until what was left of me felt like a dying husk. I was almost grateful as my consciousness faded into darkness.
#
“Cassandra.”
A hand touched my shoulder. Slowly, I stirred. My head pounded from dehydration. My eyes were swollen and stuck shut with tears.
The rim of a cup touched my lips, followed by a trickle of water. I accepted it desperately, drinking fast and clumsy despite the faint metallic aftertaste. Cool, wet fingers brushed across my eyelids, soothing the hot inflammation.
It had to be a dream. A hallucination. Maybe, if I kept my eyes shut, I could stay here for a little while longer.
But the water felt real, filling my stomach, dripping down my chin. It felt as real as the pain.
I opened my eyes. It was Wraith.
Chapter 23
“Wraith?” I croaked, lifting my head painfully. Maybe I was hallucinating after all.
He looked at me, his usual faint, serene smile half-hidden by the curtain of his hair. “Wait here. I’ll get you more water.”
“Don’t go.” I grabbed his sleeve before he could rise. My fingers trembled with the effort. “Why are you here? How did you even get in?”
Wraith subsided, instead considering me with his strange eyes. “You have fed me on your secrets,” he said. “I suppose it’s time to give you one of mine.” His hands moved to his collar and began to unbutton his shirt.
Pale skin lay underneath, so silken it seemed to glow, so flawless it didn’t look real. He made me think of some aquatic creature smoothed by water. Including…
“You don’t have nipples or a navel.”
Wraith nodded. “I’m a demon.”
“But… how? Demons are giant horned things, not… this. And your powers aren’t like those of any demon I’ve read about.”
“I came by them in a rather circuitous way.” Wraith’s eyes grew dreamy and distant. “I was once a hecathalyar, a Prince of the Deep Lands, and I ate leviathans in the abyss. Then the mages came with their bright fire and killed me. Afterward they decided to build a school. I do not know why, but they were very insistent on it, and ferried every piece of me up through the hells to do so.”
“Feel me,” he said, putting my free hand on his stomach. His flesh had no give to it. It was hard and slightly cool, as if… as if he were