I flick a third match toward him.
This one lands right in his lap. I watch in horror as the flames course up his chest. I belatedly realize I’m on my feet without having had any intention of standing, my hand closing around my goblet of water, when the rest of what I’m seeing registers.
Bram hasn’t moved. He hasn’t flinched. He’s not writhing in pain or screaming. He’s just sitting there staring at me with that self-satisfied smirk on his face. Apparently gargoyles really don’t burn. I get a flash of his teeth through the flames. “Do you feel better now?”
“Hardly. I was merely indulging in this stunt of yours.” I grab a marshmallow and shove it onto a long fork. I perch a hip on the table and lean over so I can reach the heat coming off the flames on his body. Are my hands shaking? I can’t tell. The entirety of me seems to be racked with tremors. Not my voice, though. I sound remarkably normal when I speak. “Do you feel better? Does this change anything at all?”
Bram, the bastard, laughs as the flames slowly dwindle away to nothing.
It snaps something inside me. I crawl across the table and shove the marshmallow into his mouth. He makes a surprised noise. He isn’t laughing anymore. He starts to spit it out, but I grip his jaw closed. I’m not touching him anywhere else, so all he has to do is lean back to escape my grasp. “What’s wrong, Bram? Don’t you like the taste of your own consequences?”
He holds my gaze as he chews slowly. It can’t be entirely comfortable with me holding his jaw, but Bram seems to crave the discomfort I give him. When he swallows, I shift my grip to his cheeks and pinch hard. It forces his mouth open a little, and he makes a sound that has nothing to do with pain.
I’m so angry, I can barely see straight. One thing I always prided myself on was that I never let my violence take control. Not unless the situation called for it and there was no other option. I can’t say that’s the truth tonight. There were plenty of other options that didn’t include me flicking match after match at his oiled-up body. I wondered if he was using me to hurt himself and even that wasn’t enough to make me stop.
I study his face, the way his brows have relaxed now that he views me as being in control. “It’s not fair, you know.” I pinch him a little harder, earning yet another sexy whimper. “You’re being an asshole to provoke a reaction out of me to make yourself feel better. If you want me to punish you, all you have to do is ask. But this? This shit is unhealthy, and if you do it again, I’m walking away for good. Do you understand me?”
He tries to speak, but I don’t release him. Finally, Bram nods slowly. I’m nearly certain that he’s only agreeing to appease me, but I don’t care. His energy is a swirly mass of colors that makes me dizzy to look at. I’ve never felt more like a monster than I do right now. I release him and push his face away. It’s awkward climbing down from the table, but it’s a small price to pay for escaping this room and situation.
I lit him on fire.
Of all the unhinged, unacceptable courses of action, that has to top the list. That’s something my grandfather would’ve done. It’s not something you do to someone you care about.
The realization that I care about him is almost enough to give me pause, but my need to escape is stronger. I don’t run for the door, but I move with urgency. I almost make it, too.
“Grace.” Bram doesn’t lift his voice, but it feels like he reaches across the room and hooks me in the chest. I stop. Even as I tell myself not to, I turn to face him once more. He’s exactly where I left him. The only change is that his wings now droop on the ground, mirroring the defeated slope of his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I took it too far.”
“We both did.” I flee from the room.
I spend the next week avoiding Bram and every other gargoyle who tries to cross my path. This happens with increasing frequency as I keep myself busy exploring the castle. I don’t see Luna again, but the other nobles have obviously taken a page from their book and want to approach me too. I have no interest in that bullshit.
The fact that I can see auras helps. All I need is a glimpse of color to know I need to change my route. Day after day passes, and Bram doesn’t seek me out. I’m pretty sure he’s following me, shadowing my path through the winding halls and spiraling staircases, but he’s a much subtler hunter than his people are. The only indication I have that he’s there at all is a hot feeling at the back of my neck.
I don’t know if he’s being a coward or if I am. Probably both. I scared myself that night in the dining room. Worst of all, I’m pretty sure he only apologized because I was upset, not because he felt like things were out of control. Bram has no brakes. And I don’t when I’m with him either. It’s a recipe for disaster.
The clearest answer is the one I refuse to accept. I should leave. I haven’t seen Ramanu since that first visit, but I’ve taken to carrying around the ring they gave me in my pocket. All I have to do is speak their name to summon them, and they will whisk me away to bargainer territory once more. The thought should fill me with relief, but instead it makes me want to dig in my heels all the more.
I find the massive cave on the seventh day. It’s so wide that I can’t see the far walls as I carefully descend the staircase. Down and down and down, so deep that I’m surprised I can’t feel the pressure against my skin. Gargoyles might be people of the sky, but there’s plenty of space to fly here in this room. Once I reach the bottom, I am surprised to find buildings carved into the stone. It’s an . . . underground city?
I only explore a little bit before caution gets the best of me and I ascend once more to return to my room. But curiosity is a powerful thing, and the next day I’m back in the depths, exploring the streets between the strange stone buildings. There’s no sign of life, no food or perishables. But there is furniture, and I notice a distinct lack of dust in the few places I dare explore.
What is this place?
On the third day of exploring it, I enter far enough into the city—because it is a city—to find the underground river. Curiosity causes me to dip my fingers into the icy water and press them to my lips. The water’s fresh. Possibly even drinkable.
“Back away from the water, Grace.”
I startle so badly, I almost fall into the river. I didn’t hear Bram approaching. I didn’t even feel his attention on me this time either. Apparently I don’t move fast enough, because he lands next to me and hauls me back ten feet. He releases me just as quickly as he grabbed me, doing a strange hop that, accompanied by the flap of his wings, sends him farther away. “I’m sorry. But it’s not safe. That river goes all the way to the sea, and the kraken people can reach this place using it.”
“I thought you weren’t at war.” It’s such a silly thing to say. Only my shock excuses the ridiculousness of it.
“Just because we’re not at war doesn’t mean you’re not in danger. Plenty of accidents happen during peacetime.” He looks around us. “Why do you keep coming back here?”
That’s the question, isn’t it? There are other things I should be doing. If I really mean to escape . . . But I can’t lie to myself and say that’s the goal anymore. If it were, I would have made it work by now. I don’t even have to go through the dramatics of escaping when all I have to do is summon Ramanu. If I haven’t done that by now, I’m not going to.