Kaleb swayed. “Don’t hate me, Mallory. I really do care about you, and there are very few things I want more than to be with you.”
“You need to say good-bye. Now.” Adam took hold of Kaleb’s arm.
And Kaleb wasn’t able to reply. If he agreed, Mallory would think that meant he wasn’t coming back, and if he attacked Adam, he’d be completely thrashed in front of her—and reveal what he was. All he could do was stumble to the door.
CHAPTER 23
“WHAT IS HE?” MALLORY folded her arms over her chest, hugging the blanket to her.
“Let’s not do this today, Mals. You need to rest, not to get agitated.” Her father rubbed his face. “No more questions.”
“How am I supposed to not ask questions?” Her voice rose in frustration.
He sighed. “Please let it go. You have to stay calm while the medicine—”
“No,” she interrupted. “You attacked him, and I’m pretty sure that means he’s either a daimon or— I’ve been dating a daimon.” Her voice was shrill now. “How could I not know?”
Adam sat beside her on the sofa. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
Tears had started pouring down her cheeks while she spoke, and she wiped at them furiously. “Why didn’t you just tell me? Why didn’t you kill—”
The thought of her father killing Kaleb made her feel sick. He’s a daimon. He has to be put down. She had been falling for a daimon. I miss him already.
“You need to be calm.”
“I just watched you torture the boy I like, who apparently is a daimon. I’m not going to be calm!” She reached up and gripped the stone pendant around her throat. It burned in her hand, but she didn’t let go. “I have a right to know what’s going on!”
Adam looked heartbroken for a moment. He repeated, “I’m sorry. I wish I didn’t need to do this when you’re awake.”
And then her father spoke a spell, and a wave of darkness swept her away.
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but Mallory opened her eyes to find that she was nestled in her bed. She felt better—and worse. The tears and panic that had overwhelmed her were gone, driven away by a raw new pain. Her father, the one person in her life who had meant everything to her, had used his magic on her.
She slid out of her bed, wrapped herself in her robe, and went to the window. She’d grown up accepting her father’s inhuman status. He was her dad; that was all that mattered. It meant there were odd restrictions, secrets, and constant moves. It hadn’t frightened her. Adam was overprotective, but his witchery was a way to keep her strong. Over the years, she’d drunk so many concoctions that she’d stopped wondering what was in them. Even if she knew, she didn’t know if it would help. Now, she was wondering how much he’d hidden. Since she wasn’t his biologically, she had no witchery in her, no ability to see a list of herbs or strange items and determine what they did when combined. Adam seemed to know so many things intuitively. He had a grimoire somewhere—probably in the locked trunk in his room—but she never saw him consult it.
Quietly, Mallory walked to the kitchen, but she stopped at the threshold.
Adam closed his laptop. “You shouldn’t be in here, Mals.”
The bowls of herbs, liquids, and fruits on the counter created the illusion that he was preparing a complicated meal, and she supposed that in some way that’s exactly what it was. The potions he cooked weren’t much different from the soups he made. The key difference, of course, was that he used skills that humans didn’t possess, and that she couldn’t understand, to create potions.
“You spelled me.”
“You were upset.” Adam looked haggard, but he wasn’t apologizing.
She stared at him. “Did you do that to Mom? Is that why she left?”
Adam stilled.
Mallory stayed in the doorway. “I know she disagreed about teaching me things—not that I could learn everything anyhow because I’m not your real . . .” Her words fell off. She was his daughter in almost every way. “I wish I was; even though you just did that, I still wish I was a witch.”
“You’re not a witch, but you are mine, Mals.” He gave her the barest of smiles. “And, no, Selah didn’t leave because I spelled her . . . or because I spelled you.”
Mallory felt a small relief, but she heard the things he wasn’t saying, too: he didn’t deny that he’d used his witchery on her without her consent before now. She felt like her world had gone off the rails. Her sort-of boyfriend was a daimon; her father used spells on her; and there were more secrets that she still didn’t know.
Adam interrupted her thoughts by saying, “Selah and I disagreed sometimes because she wished you knew more sooner, but I didn’t want you to know.”
“Know what?”
He looked pointedly at the hem of her robe. “Don’t disturb the circle.”
She lifted her robe, so it didn’t brush against the floor. “You’re ignoring the topic . . . topics, I guess. I want to know more. I think I deserve to.”
“You already know what matters. Daimons hate witches; witches hate daimons. Their world is terrible, and my whole family died there, except for Evelyn.” Adam poured steaming liquid into a tall glass pitcher. “If I could, I’d kill the daimon responsible for it, and if Marchosias can, he’ll kill me someday.”
“Marchosias?”
“He’s a ruthless bastard,” Adam said.
“Is he why Kaleb was here?”
“I don’t know,” Adam admitted.
Mallory forced herself to keep her voice even as she asked, “Why didn’t you kill Kaleb?”
“Bad judgment?” Adam sighed. “I was trying to avoid spelling you, and I knew if you found out you’d been spending time with one of them, you’d get upset. I can usually dispatch them or adjust things so you don’t have to know . . . but the potion I’d given you wasn’t finished working. The Watcher did something when she saw you. . . . It’s what I’m repairing. I knew more magic would knock you out, so I offered him a deal: I’d let him leave if he didn’t tell you what he was. I thought we had an agreement.” A dry sound, not quite a laugh, came from Adam. “I don’t break my vows, Mallory, so I couldn’t kill him if he left without spilling the secrets he had. If he hadn’t pushed me, you would’ve remained unaware—that he is a daimon and that I’ve spelled you.”
“For how long?”
For several minutes Adam said nothing, and Mallory knew enough to stay silent as he finished mixing the ingredients he’d set out in front of him. The moment the last of the items was added, she repeated, “For how long?”
“I’ve spent a long time protecting you. There were other daimons. You’ve fought them. You’ve seen me . . . and Selah fight them. I’ve spelled you so you couldn’t ask questions.” He put his hands palms flat on the counter. “This time I failed to hide it, and because you were weak from the other night, I couldn’t erase your memory. You know now. Kaleb is a daimon. You let him into our home, your life, and now I need to figure out what to do. I’m afraid we can’t run any farther. I’m almost out of time.”
The pit that had been growing in Mallory’s stomach made her want to run to him like she had when she was a little girl. Her foolishness had exposed them, and she wanted to apologize . . . but if he’d told her the secrets he was still keeping, maybe it would be different. All of the questions she wanted to ask were bubbling up, and right now, she was actually asking them. Maybe it was because of whatever the daimon the other night did, or maybe she was getting bolder because of Kaleb. She didn’t know why. All she knew was that she was asking questions.
“Call Evelyn if anything happens to me,” he said. “She won’t lie, but she isn’t always honest in the strictest sense of the word. She’s done things for revenge that—” He stopped and shook his head. “Once I thought I could do that. It’s why I stole what I stole, but I changed. Being your father changed me, Mallory. Revenge mattered less than protecting you. All I want in this life is for you to have a safe future.”
&n
bsp; He carried the glass pitcher of the potion to the edge of the kitchen. “I want you to go take a hot bath. The tub is already filling. When you get there, pour this into the water, turn off the spigot, and soak for a minimum of twenty minutes.”
Mallory accepted the pitcher. “I need answers, Daddy. You’re afraid. You just let a daimon live in order to continue to lie to me. We’ve moved near Evelyn now, and I’m not going to believe everything is okay when you dodge questions.” She swallowed nervously, and then she voiced the horrible thing she’d been trying not to say. “Maybe if I knew the secrets you are keeping, I wouldn’t have let him in.”
Adam stared at her for several moments. Then, he gestured in the general direction of the stairs. “We can talk later. You need to use that while it’s still fresh, and the office called while you were asleep. There was an emergency, and I need to go in, but when I get home . . . or maybe after work tomorrow, I can try to—”
“Tonight, Daddy,” she said firmly. “I want to know what you stole and everything else. I can’t keep living with these secrets. I don’t want to ask Evelyn or Kaleb, but if you don’t talk to me, I will.”
Her father sighed. “Mals . . . you don’t really want to know all of that. Trust me. Just take your medicine, and we can move past this.”
She’d spent her life obedient to her father. Arguing with him never worked; she always backed down. Not this time. She knew he’d spelled her; she’d almost fallen for a daimon because of Adam’s secrecy. “Evelyn and Kaleb will answer my questions. I know it, and you know it.”
“Bath first. You’ll feel better. If you really want to know later . . .”
“You promise you’ll tell me?” she prompted.
He sighed sadly and whispered words in his witch language. Then he said gently, “You need to be a good daughter now. Go pour that in the tub, and soak for a half hour.”
“Yes, Daddy.” Mallory felt herself struggling not to say the words that were pulled to her lips. There were questions she wanted to ask, but she couldn’t. Her hands tightened on the pitcher. “Daddy?”
Her father paused.
“This isn’t fair,” she forced out. “What you’re doing. It’s not fair.”
Her father sighed. “You’re my family, Mals. The daimons took everyone else. Your mother left; Evelyn lives for revenge; and everyone is . . . dead. I have a plan, but I need more time. One of these days, I won’t erase your memories, but for now, your forgetfulness is the best option I have. Go soak.”
How much have I forgotten? The urge to drop the pitcher vied with the compulsion her father was leveraging on her. I will not forget Kaleb. She tried to let go, but only managed to remove one hand.
“I’m sorry.” Her father kissed her forehead. “I love you, and . . . you can hate me later if you need to, but I can’t let them destroy you too.”
“I know, but I have questions. If you tell me, maybe I can help—”
“No. You’d be in more danger if you knew—from others too. I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you everything.” He paused, but then he continued, “Are you a good daughter?”
“I am,” Mallory said reluctantly.
“Will you go take your medicine, Mals?” he asked.
There were tears in both their eyes as she nodded.
Good daughters obey.
CHAPTER 24
BY THE TIME KALEB got back to The City, he had a plan. It wasn’t the wisest of ideas, but he wasn’t about to give up on Mallory, and now that the witch knew he was interested in her, Kaleb was certain that getting anywhere near her would be impossible.
Unless I have undeniable authority to see her.
With no small amount of trepidation, Kaleb went directly to the palace and requested an audience with Marchosias.
“Tell him that it’s urgent,” he added.
So less than two hours after he had arrived at Mallory’s door facing the witch she called a father, Kaleb stood facing her biological father. Marchosias hadn’t looked surprised when Kaleb walked into the enormous room.
He sat at a beautiful carved desk with towering stacks of papers. He lowered his pen and leaned back in his chair. “Well, what is this urgent matter?”
“I’d like to offer a bride-price for your daughter,” Kaleb said.
Marchosias motioned for him to continue.
“She’s old enough to breed or to wed, but the witch who calls her his daughter won’t let me near her.” Kaleb hesitated at the thought of admitting how thoroughly and seemingly easily Adam had brought him to his knees. “If I were to marry her, he couldn’t stop me—short of killing me, which would kill or injure Mallory.”
Casually, Marchosias pushed his chair back and stood. “The witch’s marriage spell won’t bind you if she has no affection for you.”
“I know,” Kaleb said.
“If you have had indication of affection, that means you knew where she was and didn’t see fit to tell me,” Marchosias said mildly. “Am I understanding this correctly?”
“You are.” Kaleb held Marchosias’ gaze. “I was hired to kill her, but I’ve reconsidered that contract.”
“And how is my brother going to feel about the broken contract?” Marchosias asked, correctly identifying the contract holder but seemingly undisturbed by Haage’s treasonous actions. “I’m assuming you’re clever enough not to have told him yet.”
“I am. If I’m part of the ruling class, I’ll be a difficult contract—and most of the black-masks good enough to try for me know that I’d be a better ally than enemy.” Kaleb didn’t ask how Marchosias knew—or how long he’d known—about Haage’s contract on Mallory. Instead, he tried to appear calm. He folded his arms over his chest. “I’m ranked high in the contest, and I’m about to marry your daughter and father the heir to The City. Unless you kill me, I should be pretty safe.”
With a laugh, Marchosias called for his aides, and in hardly more time than it took to cross the room, three daimons had appeared in front of Marchosias. “Fetch my witch too,” he told one of them. “And one of the girls in my quarters.”
The other two daimons waited, but Marchosias ignored them. He draped an arm over Kaleb’s shoulders companionably and directed him to a window that overlooked the carnival.
“You’ll bring her home,” Marchosias remarked.
“I will if she is mine to bring here,” Kaleb promised.
“What coin do you have to pay for my daughter?”
There was the problem: Kaleb had very few actual coins, certainly not enough to pay for Mallory. He could, however, earn them. He thought about the woman offering her markers after the fight and the number of daimons who would offer for Aya as well. He could secure ample funds in time. “I’ll pay whatever you ask.”
“You live in a cave, and you expect me to believe you have sufficient coin to buy her?” Marchosias shook his head.
“I can earn it,” Kaleb clarified. “I haven’t been taking a lot of jobs because of the competition, but I have been wearing a black mask for several years, and there are other ways I can raise coin if need be.”
“In one year, she’ll be eighteen. I will award her to you for that year, but at the end of that, she will be here and pregnant, or the marriage will be dissolved and you’ll be dead.” Marchosias flashed his teeth in a smile of sorts. “That’s the price: your life if you fail.”
“Fine.” Kaleb nodded. “Let me know when the contract is ready to sign.”
Marchosias walked over to his desk and opened a drawer. “I knew you’d found her before you came to me. You can’t think I don’t have Haage—or his lackeys—under watch.” Marchosias withdrew a contract and motioned for Kaleb to approach. “Come.”
Kaleb looked at the contract. Everything he had wanted was about to be his. All he had to do was sign. He lifted the pen and stared down at the words. The terms didn’t actually matter. As a cur, he had no room to negotiate.
“Ahhh! The bride proxy is here.” Marchosias smiled at a girl who was brought into the ro
om, half asleep and entirely unclothed. “Come over here.” He held out a hand to the girl, and then paused and glanced at Kaleb. “Unless you have another proxy in mind?”
“No,” Kaleb said.
“Sign then.” Marchosias nodded at the contract. “I’m sure you’ll be wanting to get on with the nuptials.”
As the girl, the daimons, and the witch watched, Kaleb signed the contract.
“Go on then. Finish the wedding.” Marchosias motioned at the girl.
“Where?”
Marchosias opened his arms expansively. “Aside from my desk, the entire room is open. Pick a spot.”
“It’s okay, Kaleb,” the girl told him. “I volunteered.”
Kaleb knew that his proxy wedding wasn’t personal, but as he looked from the proxy bride to his ruler, he felt worse than he usually did after he’d whored himself. It was a clear reminder of who had the true power, or perhaps it was merely business. If Mallory had been present for the marriage, perhaps they’d have had privacy, but she wasn’t, and Kaleb still had to finish the wedding in order for it to be binding. He consummated the ceremony in front of the requisite witnesses and witch. All the while, Marchosias continued his paperwork.
When the act was done, Marchosias watched as the witnesses affixed their signatures to the contract, and then handed it to the witch, who did whatever trickery was necessary to make the proxy service binding. The proxy remained on the floor, making the already tawdry process even less appealing. It was far more than Kaleb had the right to hope for as a cur: he’d just been wed to the daughter of The City’s ruler. He was a part of the ruling class now. At least for the next year. But the silent, naked daimon who stayed supine on the floor made Kaleb feel worse than he could explain—and he hoped never to have to tell Mallory about the proxy wedding. She was raised by a witch; she’d expect a different sort of ceremony one day.
Marchosias glanced at the proxy. “She’s paying off a debt,” he said. “I’d give her to you as a wedding gift, but now that you’re wed, you aren’t to touch any other daimon until my daughter is breeding. It’s in the contract you signed.”