Page 60 of Too Hexed to Handle

The statue in the maze opened after Astin told me he loved the colour of my hair.

I snort. If I’m right . . . I have no idea why Ozias would be using that word as the way to unlock his secrets, but once again, I’m aware of how ironic it is that humans are convinced they can drive a Souleater away with love.

‘You are a liar!’

I whirl round at the sound of a familiar voice. Shit. Shit.

Quickly, I scan the room, searching for an exit, hope sinking when I realise there isn’t one that won’t lead me straight to Eira.

What is she doing here? Damian had one job, and he’s failed miserably. Cursing him under my breath, I close the cabinet and tuck myself behind a bookcase, peering round the corner as the pair of them storm into the library. He’s without his cloak for once, wearing only a simple black shirt paired with matching trousers.

You’d think he would have the sense to request they have this argument anywhere but here, but he’s either forgotten about me or doesn’t care, because he barely glances at the stacks to check for my trespassing face. His focus is on Eira as she slumps into the armchair.

‘It smells in here,’ she says. ‘Why does it smell in here?’

I try to squash my each and every emotion, but it’s difficult. Alarm is all too prevalent.

‘I don’t know.’ There’s a bite of impatience in Damian’s voice. ‘You used a lot of magic last night. What were you thinking?’

‘I was thinking that you’re a liar. What else was I to do? Besides, I only maimed them a little. I had to stop you –’ She breaks off with a cry. ‘How could you do this to me?’

Damian appears to be resisting the urge to roll his eyes. ‘Let’s go outside. A walk will calm you.’

‘I wouldn’t need to be calmed if you weren’t after that thing.’

Another grit of his teeth, and he sinks to his knees, taking her hands in his. ‘You shouldn’t make assumptions about my plans.’

She pouts. ‘If I’m wrong, why did you keep your party secret?’

‘I did it for you.’ His tone has changed, linen soft now, as he brushes a strand of hair behind her ears. She shivers at the contact. ‘Parties overstimulate you, remember? I was protecting you.’

‘You were?’ she whispers. ‘But you didn’t tell me why you were hosting it either. What am I supposed to think, when you’re sending people in search of that vile potion?’

‘You’re supposed to trust I’d never let harm come to you.’

‘Really?’

I don’t see how she can believe he’d want the cure for anyone other than her, but she’s breathless now, hanging on his every word, leaning forward. He recoils for all of a second before putting the mask back in place, offering her a smile I know he doesn’t mean. Between his expression and his words, he spills lies like water, and Eira laps up every drop. Her return grin is a thousand lightning strikes compared to a candle that doesn’t want to catch alight. ‘But then who –’

He silences her with a kiss. She responds with an alarming amount of enthusiasm, threading her fingers through his hair and pulling him closer.

When they pull apart, she says, ‘I don’t want you throwing parties any more. I don’t like it when you leave. You’re not supposed to leave. Nothing bad will happen, so long as you stay here with me.’

She’s so earnest that her words barely sound threatening, but I shudder anyway, knowing how terrible she could make things for him.

‘All right,’ he says. ‘I promise, I’ll stay. And if I do throw another party, it’ll be in your honour. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

Her eyes widen. ‘I’ve never had a birthday party.’

‘I know.’ He tugs her hand. ‘Why don’t we go for that walk? We can talk about it.’

Well, finally, he’s remembered that getting her out of this room might be a good idea. I breathe a sigh of relief as she allows him to pull her from the chair, but she immediately gasps, whirling in the direction of the stacks.

‘What is that?’ she asks.

Oh, shit. Her nostrils flare. Shit. No relief. I don’t feel relief. I am in no way delighted they’re leaving.

‘I’m sure it’s nothing,’ Damian says.