Page 18 of Devoured

That half of me is gone.

I can’t admit as much, however, because it would ruin any chance of vengeance Evie and I have left. So I tilt my head, and I rub my tired eyes. As Sin taught me, I lie. I lie so well that it’s basically just the truth. Indiscernible.

Sin will never believe I’m fine. He only has to believe I haven’t abandoned him.

“It’s been difficult,” I admit, putting every bit of anguish into those three words. “I haven’t been able to sleep much.”

He glances away quickly, and his gaze focuses on the wall behind me. On an unassuming tapestry of ocean waves beneath a silver moon. “You’ve been getting into fights. You’ve been sneaking out of your old room at night, and sometimes, I look at you, and it’s like you aren’t even in your own head.”

It turns out I don’t need to admit anything.

Sin has been watching me. I should have known. Even when he couldn’t look at me, he’s been keeping tabs on me. My hands curl into fists, but I hide them under my arms. “I watched an entire court of people be slaughtered in front of me, Sin. And Oona—” My voice breaks, and the emotion behind it is real. I shake my head. “I’m trying to be okay, but it’s going to take time. You can’t expect me to heal so quickly.”

He nods brusquely. “I know. That’s what I told my mother.”

At the sound of her name, that unearned title, words continue to spill from me, unplanned and unbidden. “I see their blood whenever I close my eyes. I hear their screams whenever it’s silent.” That emotion threatens to choke me now, but I swallow it down, determined to—I don’t know, exactly. Rattle him, somehow. Crack that impassive facade and force him to show me what’s underneath. “What—what were you thinking? Why didn’t you talk to me? Why didn’t you tell me? Why do you trust her?” “She wants to kill you,” I wish I could scream. “Your own mother is going to kill you someday, you idiot, all while you’re worshipping at her altar and preaching her sermons.”

He blinks at me. Startled. His brow creases, and his lips twist into a deeper frown. “She’s my mother, Vanessa. You know what this court was like before. I know it’s not better yet, but it will be. One day, there will be peace in Castle Severi.”

“You really believe that?”

“With every bone in my body.”

I stare at him. He stares at me.

Despite our pleas to talk, we each know better than to speak. If Sin wants to convince me of this new regime, he needs to let me grieve. And if I want to murder him before this is over, I need to let him believe I can move on.

Evie and I talked about slitting his throat immediately. That first night, when she dragged me down into the dungeon, she handed me a knife and told me to do it.

“Finish the job. You handle Sin. I’ll handle his mother.”

But I pushed the knife back into her palms. “We are surrounded by Cora’s monsters. We can’t just assassinate them and survive this.”

“Do you want to survive this?”

I didn’t know how to answer that then. Neither did she. But she dropped the knife into the pocket of my robe and told me to save it. We would be needing it soon.

Now that I’m here, looking at Sin in all his tragically beautiful glory, I wonder if I refused for the right reason. I wonder if Evie knew then, just as she knows now, that I might not be able to kill him yet. As much as I want to throw him against the wall and wallop him with so many punches that I crack every bone in his body—I don’t know that I can finish the job after. Slit his throat. Watch life and blood spill from his lips. Bury his cold corpse beneath the earth.

Our hearts beat in unison. His dark red eyes smolder. His nails bite into his forearms, nearly ripping through the fabric of his thin sweater. He looks like a boy. He looks like the boy I loved.

What if I can’t kill him?

I shiver. Maybe the human part of me isn’t dead after all. Or maybe I really am pathetic.

“What are the maps for?” I ask, so abruptly that Sin startles again and nearly trips over his feet.

“Pardon?”

“The. Maps.” I gesture around his room before stalking toward his desk. He races past me, collecting the parchments and shoving them in drawers before I can snatch one. I lift an indifferent shoulder. “If you’re planning another massacre, I’d love to know.”

His eyes narrow on my face, even as he sweeps the last remaining envelope on his desk into the topmost drawer. I barely catch sight of the address on the front before he slams the door shut. “There won’t be any more massacres, Vanessa.”

“Birthday parties, then?”

“Yes. I’m throwing Calix a surprise party next month. Tell him I ordered a piñata in the shape of his eight-pack.”

Sin doesn’t laugh, however, and I don’t smile. He’s hiding something. And I’m going to find out what. But first—I’m going to make him hurt just a little more. “You should tell him yourself. You haven’t talked in days now. You hardly look at each other. Calix is alone, Sin. He’s only ever had you.”