Page 76 of The Heartless One
His talented fingers made quick work of the knot at the waist of her robe. Soon enough, the ties of her wrap loosened, and she just barely caught it before it slid off her.
“The creatures that we left there, the ones I burned. They were infected. Does that mean all the infected have had their souls taken?”
“We’ve already gone over this, Jessamine. A magical malady like that would suggest that none of them have souls. Not a single one. Themindless nature of their being is to spread that strange curse through touch, and that makes more sense now. It’s a curse that grows on its own without someone continually conjuring it. A rather impressive creation, even if I do hate that it was likely influenced by the Crone.”
“You don’t ever call her your sister,” she mused as his fingers toyed with the ends of the robe ties. “Why is that?”
“She came into this life an old woman, and it’s rather hard to imagine her as a sister when my only memories of her are as an old wrinkled bat.” He paused, the backs of his fingers pressing against her belly. “But you know very little of my family dynamics, I’m now realizing.”
“I know very little about you as a person, Elric.”
“There isn’t much to know. I was alive, and then I died. Repeat for centuries on end. You know, I used to pray to the gods as well. My siblings could hear any prayer, even those uttered by another god. I prayed the first time I was sacrificed, carved into pieces to make it a glorious sacrifice that would give the witches the most power. None of them offered to save me, and not a single one offered comfort.” His face twisted with disgust. “My family was not a kind one.”
The front of her robe parted, and she held on to it with her arm as she looked at him in the mirror. “No, I don’t suppose it was.”
“The gods are difficult on their own, but they had expectations that no one could ever live up to. I was the youngest, you see. And they all had their own opinions on what made a god good. The more they told me, the less I believed. But it does not surprise me that of all the gods to linger, it would be the Crone. She had the closest to my kind of power, death and life as pieces in her chess game. If she wished, she could give them power over the dead, knowledge of the spirit realm, and even raise up servants from bodies that souls had long since fled. The priestesses were basically witches, if one looked at them from the outside.”
“Is that what I should expect to fight against? Priestesses?”
He looked… troubled. Elric didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he reached out and took the robe from her hands. He drew it down her form, allowing the darkness to pool at her feet and his eyes to heat with hunger.She could see how much he wanted to touch her. How much he wanted to draw her hands away from her breasts so that he could look his fill.
But he didn’t touch her. At least, not like he wanted to. Instead, his warm palm landed on her waist and he gently turned her toward the bed. “Sit, nightmare. Let me brush your hair before you sleep.”
“I’ll admit, this isn’t what I thought we’d be doing.”
He shook his head at her, retrieving the brush from the vanity while she sat on the middle of the bed and turned her back to him. With her legs curled under her, she was far more comfortable than sitting at the vanity.
And then his voice was right in her ear, deep and guttural with emotion. “I have to earn the right to touch you again, my nightmare.”
A shiver trailed down her spine, but then he was brushing her hair with infinite care. She’d already taken the pins out, so it was easy for him to slide the brush through her long locks. He took his time, being careful with every knot that he came across. The silence between them was no longer heavy, though. Instead, it was the comfortable silence of two people who knew each other’s souls.
Even if it still stung to think that he had hers. Still, on the end of that thought was the reassurance that she now owned his heart.
It took a long while before he sighed. “I think we may be dealing with priestesses.”
“Why does it sound like that upsets you?”
“Because it does.” The brush smoothed through her hair so gently, at odds with the violence in his voice. “I always considered them misguided. Witches understand that magic has a price. They have always known that they must sacrifice to gain power, even if the sacrifice is something very dear to them. Magic is not something to take lightly because it takes from you. Priestesses believe that magic is their right. Their magic was given to them by a goddess because they are better than anyone else.”
“That does sound dangerous. Not because they are more powerful than us, which I do not believe them to be. But because they think they have a right to what they are no longer able to access.”
“Precisely. And my fear is that there are more of them. If they areusing pieces of the Crone’s body, then they should almost be out. Which will only lead to them becoming desperate to get more power.”
She let those thoughts roll around in her mind until she could figure out what was bothering her most about it. “If Leon promised them more power…”
“Then they will do anything to get it. I fear he believes there is a way to bring back the gods. I could not hazard a guess as to why, unless he believes that he can control them once he brings them back from the dead.” He replaced the brush, his calloused hands smoothing down her bare arms before he got off the bed.
She could feel the ache in him, because it was the same as the one in her. They were different now. She had no fear they wouldn’t mend this, because she’d already forgiven him. But it was an odd, gnawing sort of hunger as she watched him walk away from her.
Elric set everything right on her vanity, the brush at a perfect angle, and all the perfumes settled where they would be easy for her to reach in the morning. And then he braced himself on the wood, his head hanging as he stared at the gnarled circles of wooden knots.
He was the picture of defeat. A man who had nearly lost everything and who must have believed that he would never get it back.
A knife twisted in her heart, because even though she was dreadfully angry at him, that didn’t change how she felt. She feared nothing could change how she felt about him.
“Deathless One,” she said, her voice a low murmur. “Come put me to bed.”
He moved only his head, looking at her with those dark soulless eyes. “You try my patience, gravesinger. If I put you to bed, I will not stop there. And as you said yourself, I need to earn your trust.”
