Page 59 of Drawn into Oblivion

She backed away from the spell book and nearly put her hands to her face, but the black dust from the cover still clung like dirt to her fingers. She fisted her hands and then shook them out, wishing she could fix everything, but she saw no way to do so. She couldn’t go back to when she had been ignorant of Rosuke’s past.

“The curse cut out our magic,” Vallen continued, even as her world spun out of control. “But the caster made a mistake with Rosuke. His magic died, but it was only partially ripped away. We think that’s why his hair turned that color.”

Now that she knew the truth, she understood why Rosuke had refused to talk about his curse. How could a seducer ply his trade if he gave away his real intent? And why else would he have pursued a woman infamous in the court for her frigid austerity—a woman so repulsed by men and sex it had bordered on hatred? She was, if nothing else, the ideal conquest. The most satisfying to claim. Though he no longer fed on power to stay alive, he had always fed upon women. And after three hundred years of doing exactly what he had done in the old court, of practicing deception and seduction to the point of perfection, he had slid back into his former role as court debaucher with ease.

Mere hours ago, she had been in his arms, declaring her love. She hadn’t noticed then, for he had distracted her handily, but she now realized he hadn’t returned her feelings. He had certainly been happy, but about what? Why hadn’t he said anything?

Did Rosuke love her? Or did he get a thrill from breaking hearts?

Something inside her shattered, spilling its tender contents. A flash of pain, and then anger swelled, dwarfing her bloated ball of power, which was even more agitated than before.

“What am I to him?” she whispered. “Am I nothing?”

“You must let him come to you tonight. Let him explain himself,” Vallen implored.

“What is there to explain?” Her voice rose in pitch and volume. The anger billowed up like a tower of acrid smoke, filling her lungs, searing her throat, fogging her mind.

“It’s more complicated than—”

“Why am I listening to you?” she cried out, fisting her hands in her tangled hair. “You’re on his side.”

“It’s not what you thi—”

“I trusted him. I gave myself to him. I gave him e-everything!”

He had been so smart. He had coaxed her guard down—just a little—and had wormed his way through the chinks in her armor. She berated herself for her lack of caution when a man had shown interest despite her reputation. She had mistaken his tenacity for affection, his pursuit for interest in commitment. And now that he’d captured her heart and tasted of her body, he would cast her aside.

Why had the empress encouraged a relationship with him? Shumei had known the secret of his curse. Dueling gods, she had met Vallen when he’d still been a demon! And yet she loved him, had joined with him.

However, Vallen’s love was as clear as day. Perhaps the curse had changed him. Him, but not Rosuke. Had the high general’s devotion blinded the empress to Rosuke’s faults? Had Shumei also misread him? How many people had he fooled?

“He is good and worthy,” Vallen said. “Please believe me.”

“But he doesn’t love me,” she sobbed. “He wouldn’t say it today. I bared my heart to him and he was silent. I—”

She couldn’t stay there any longer. The book’s aura sickened her. Vallen’s words were painful lies. She’d had too many shocks that day and could take absolutely no more.

Running to the door, she furiously wiped at the tears on her cheeks and smeared soot across her face. The high general called after her, but she ignored his pleas to listen. Nothing he could say would convince her of Rosuke’s honor.

Once the north wing was behind her, she let the sobs come full force, for they would not abate. Her magic throbbed in sympathy, but its simplistic concern only made her cry harder. She hated her weakness, her vulnerability, and she loathed her tears. She had responsibilities, and yet she was running to the baths to console herself. Worst of all, even now, she still ached for Rosuke to hold her.

Chapter Seventeen

Vallen sat beside his sleeping wife and blotted the perspiration from her forehead as she sweated out a fever. Night had settled over the city, and he could not banish the dark thoughts that accompanied it. The festival had been more than a return to traditions and the forging of new ones. It had been meant as a brief reprieve. A single day where no one would have to remember that evil was a tangible part of their world. And that illusion had been cruelly shattered.

Anxious for Rosuke to arrive with a report, Vallen awaited news of what had happened outside the city walls. Two hours had passed since he had woken to find Mai standing over the Devil’s Hand, and the only sound he’d heard in that time had been the wind sighing through an open window. Had Shumei’s guards returned to their posts in the hall? He couldn’t bear to tear himself from her side long enough to check.

He winced as he recalled Mai’s expression. He had tried to reassure her of Rosuke’s intentions but had known by the destroyed look on her face that he was only making things worse. The right words would have to come from someone else. He didn’t envy his friend’s position, for Rosuke had quite a lot of groveling ahead of him, assuming Mai had the strength to hear him out. However, he believed she would come to understand in time. At least, he hoped she would.

He was rather surprised she hadn’t commented on the nearly oppressive amount of magic swirling inside the room. The second the spell had released him, and when he had woken, the presence of power had been as hard to miss as a thick cloud of perfume. The scent of flowers and earth and everything living, all coming from Shumei’s small frame. The smell had lessened a little when Mai had thrown open the door to leave, but it still hung like mist in the air.

Gazing at his beloved’s face, he wished he could banish the discomfort that pinched her eyebrows and pursed her lips. She looked as though she had eaten something that wanted to come back up. When his magic had reached out to find hers, it had discovered a massive presence inside her, one barely contained by her skin. Even stranger, stroking her hand was all he needed to ease his worries. Despite the day’s troubles, he felt reassured when he touched her. Peaceful, even.

The Divine One had taken her mind when she had fallen unconscious, he was sure of it. What he had done, though, was something only Shumei could tell him. Even if Mai knew what had happened, Vallen doubted now was the time to ask her.

Footsteps approached. Vallen looked to the door, hand on the hilt of his sword. He was certain who had come, but just in case…

The door swiftly opened without warning, and he shot to his feet, sword jumping into his tight grip as adrenaline renewed his flagging concentration. He sighed with relief when Rosuke stepped inside. His friend stopped as though he had hit a wall, and blinked as he sniffed the air. His formal uniform was covered with dirt and blood. His unbound hair was damp with sweat and stuck to his neck.