Page 93 of Devoured

My heart thunders against my ribs. A lie claws violently, suddenly, up my throat. “I—I don’t know.”

He turns to look at me now. To really, truly look at me, his gaze lingering on mine for longer than necessary. That red seems duller than before. A shade too sad. He blinks and turns away again. “Cora compelled me. That’s how they chained me up. After supper, the Wolf Queen followed me to my room, and she compelled me. I didn’t see it coming. After everything”—his voice breaks—“how could I not see it coming?”

That honesty threatens to shatter what’s left of my composure. “It wasn’t your fault, and you know that.” I glance at him imploringly. “You have to know that.”

He smiles—too fast, too sharp—and his responding laugh comes out brittle, the sound splintering in the air. “Why the hell would I? This court has always been a nightmare, but aren’t I the common factor here? No matter where I go, disaster follows. Death lingers. I obeyed a terrible order to kill a girl on a beach, and I ruined your life.” He trembles with barely repressed rage. “What did Cora make you do to me?”

“Nothing. It was… it was nothing.”

He glances at me again, but this time, he doesn’t turn away. “I couldn’t feel it at first. Not until it started to hurt. And then it was like—I don’t know.” He tenses. “It was like you were ripping open my eyelids and scooping out my memories. Like you had hooked your claws in my eye sockets and wouldn’t let go. I was helpless—helpless, Vanessa—to watch the worst moments of my life drag me under. And then it started to… unravel. Like I wasn’t even in my own body at the end. Like I was watching my essence wither and die, and I was becoming a husk.” He sounds incredulous, as if he can’t quite believe what he’s saying. “How did you do that?”

This time it feels more like honesty when I say, “I don’t know.”

He watches me closely, waiting for more of an explanation. And I suppose I owe him that much.

Inhaling deeply, bracing myself for any potential reaction, I tell him what I told Evie and Portia about the bishop, about Cora knowing my secrets but never explaining them. He listens wordlessly, without a single expression passing over his stoic face.

“I still don’t understand it,” I finish, “and once it’s happening, I can hardly control it. It’s like I’m not myself anymore. It’s like I’m not even a person. I just know that if I sense sadness or misery… I want to fix it. And a lot of times, the only way to fix it is to—to undo it. Which is how I made the bishop disappear. No one else remembers him anymore. Only me.”

A breath passes without him revealing a single thought. The silence begins to unnerve me, and I bury my fingers in the sand. I wish I could bury myself with them. Shame flushes hot up my neck and across my cheeks. Calix doesn’t run screaming, however. He doesn’t condemn me immediately. But maybe this isn’t any different. The quiet feels like a condemnation in and of itself.

“Say something,” I whisper when I can’t take it anymore.

“I haven’t heard of abilities like this before,” he says. “Truthseers are supposed to discern the truth—not change it.” He shakes his head, shutting his eyes, tightening them. “You were unwriting my existence.” A statement instead of a question. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I pull my fingers from the sand, startled. “What? What do you—”

“You’re changing the fabric of reality. You’re Cora’s personal weapon. And I had no fucking idea.”

“Calix, the second you thought I was involved with a poisoning, you broke down my door and scolded me.”

He grinds his teeth. “You have the power to make someone unborn. What would have happened if you’d done that to me? Or to Sin? Or to Cora herself? What sort of repercussions exist when you take someone’s life away? There are so many rules here. So many ways your powers could backfire.”

“Yeah. I know.” I stare down at my palms. Though there is no blood currently crusted on my skin, I still see it. Not a hallucination. Just another stain of shame.

Snarling under his breath, Calix turns to the horizon. Moonlight spills silver light onto the hard planes of his face, softening the fury in his scarlet eyes into an expression heartbreakingly human. “Could you see it? When you were in my head, could you see what I saw?”

I slide closer, leaning against his arm. He shudders at my touch, but he doesn’t move away. He doesn’t move at all.

“Sort of,” I say. “I saw a lot of terrible memories at once. It was hard to parse through them in the moment, especially at the end. But—I saw Sin too. I saw flickers of light and happiness there.”

He nods, sliding his arm behind me so I can relax into his side. His hand falls on my shoulder in a delicate touch. Far more gentle than usual, as though this moment is made of glass and he’s afraid to shatter it. “I’m sorry about Celeste.”

“I thought you said no apologies.”

“You deserve one.”

“No.” I shake my head. “You deserve an apology. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I have this—this thing wrong with my brain. I’m sorry Cora won’t leave us alone—”

His touch hardens, and his voice is coarse near my ear. “Never apologize for who you are, Vanessa. There is nothing wrong with you.”

“I could have erased your existence—”

“And I killed your best friend,” he says. “Sin murdered most of the court. Evie stabbed you. Cora is starting a war. Sybil lied about her real child. Stars, Vanessa, even Portia used to steal.”

I stop fighting him and glance up. “What do you mean Portia used to steal?”

“With her ivy.” His fingers rub soothing circles into my skin. “When she was thirteen or fourteen, she would grow roots in random rooms throughout the castle to thieve bits and baubles. Sybil caught her, but because her father is the Duke of Canada, she was never punished.”