“Roaming the earth and making bargains.” He picked up a glass of wine and swirled it. “Do you want to hear about them?”

“I already know what sort of bargains you make. And you don’t roam the earth, just Arcadia.”

Though it suddenly occurred to me that for all I knew, he did pass between worlds to stand upon the true earth and look up at the true sky.

“Ah, yes, you are a daughter of the Resurgandi. You know of what you have been deprived.” He leaned back in his chair.

“What are you planning?” I asked warily.

“Marriage. Obviously.” He picked up a dish. “Shall I tell you about the girl who bargained away her mother’s eyes, that she might once taste stuffed dates such as these? I can’t say I was sorry when the rabid dogs attacked her.”

“You aren’t sorry about anything you do.”

He flashed a smile at me. “So you are learning.”

“I’ve known that fact all my life.”

“Then what have you learnt since coming here?”

What it’s like to kiss your shadow, I thought. I bit the words back, but the secret gave me courage.

“That your house is disorganized,” I said. “That you’re less impressive than I thought and far more annoying. And that if the gods have any mercy, I will find a way to destroy you.”

Then I realized I had said that last part out loud.

I used to guard my words so well, I thought numbly as I sprang to my feet. What was it about this house, this demon, that made me tell the truth?

At least I hadn’t hinted at the plan to use the house against him.

“Don’t leave the table yet.” Ignifex was on his feet. “The conversation was just getting interesting.”

“Yes, of course,” I said, backing away slowly. My body thrummed with the need to run, but I knew it was useless. “Death is always interesting to you, isn’t it?”

He advanced on me like a cat stalking a bird. “You want me to worry more about my own demise?”

I took another step back and smacked into one of the pillars. With nowhere to run—and knowing that running wouldn’t save me—all I could do was stare him down.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly bother you. Do go ahead and rest in comfortable ignorance.”

“The better to kill me in my sleep?”

“It would be rude to wake you first.”

It was like a dance over cracking ice. I felt dizzy with barely leashed terror, but I almost could have laughed, because I was keeping pace with him and I was still alive and that meant I was winning.

Ignifex looked almost ready to laugh himself. “But that’s no fun for either of us. You could at least bring me breakfast in bed with death.”

“What, poison? So you can show off how you’re immune like Mithridates?”

“I’m comforted that you thought of him and not Tantalus.”

“As much as you mean to me, husband, there are some things I won’t do for you.”

Our eyes met, and for a moment there was nothing but shared glee between us—

Between me and my enemy.

I felt a pulse of fear at the same moment that his eyes narrowed. Then one of his hands landed on the pillar beside me as he leaned in.

“Nyx Triskelion,” he said lowly.

My breath stopped.

He was a monster. Not even close to human. But I wasn’t looking at his cat-slit eyes or mocking smile. I was staring at the lines of his shoulder, lazy but strong even under his clothes; the pale skin of his throat, exposed where several of his coat’s gold clasps had come undone; the curve of his jaw that would be warm against my lips. For one moment, I felt like a river running down to his ocean.

Then he chuckled. The sound scraped across my skin like cat claws; I remembered who he was and what he’d done, and I knew that he was mocking me.

He leaned a closer. “Would you like to guess my name?”

I found my breath. Clenched my teeth. And glared at him with all the strength I had left.

“I’d rather die,” I said.

Another chuckle. “Then good night.” And once again he left, and I went back to my room alone.

The clock chimed. I flinched, then looked again at the door. I had waited here in my bedroom for the past two hours, sure that any moment Ignifex would stride through the doorway to claim his wedded rights.

Shade had said that I would be safe at night, but in this moment I couldn’t believe it. Ignifex was a demon. A monster. And he must, he must have seen that moment when I was briefly beguiled. Of course he would not wait even one night before he took advantage.

But I was still alone.

Finally I accepted that Shade had been right after all. I was safe. But that thought made me remember my whining to him in the hall, and my fingers dug into the coverlet. When I imagined facing him again, I felt like I was choking under a mountain of blankets. But even if he still thought me selfish and stupid, at least he could know I was sorry for complaining like a spoiled child.

I’d never be able to apologize to Astraia. With Shade, I had to at least try.

So I went looking for the Heart of Water. Probably I wouldn’t find the room, and if I did, there was no guarantee that Shade would be there. But I had barely started wandering when I pulled open a door and saw a thousand lights dancing over still water, one pale figure sitting at the center.

Fear flashed through my whole body. I didn’t want to face him. Then I clenched my teeth and marched forward, wondering just how idiotically nervous I looked.

Though I wore shoes this evening, my feet were still noiseless on the water. But Shade looked up as I approached him anyway. His eyes were wide and solemn, his face relaxed; the lack of hurt or anger stopped me in my tracks.

“I—” My voice stuck; I swallowed, forcing myself to keep looking. “I’m sorry.”

His eyebrows raised slightly. “For what?”

“Earlier. What I said. Complained. You’ve been here so much longer and I—don’t deserve—”

“You came here to die. You’re allowed to mourn.”

“I wasn’t mourning, I was whining that I walked so long.” My voice was jagged and too loud in the peace of that room, but I couldn’t accept the excuse he was offering.

He rose in a single swift movement. “You’ve done nothing but mourn,” he said, and though his voice was calm as a bowl of milk it made my throat clench. “You’re allowed to.”

“No.” My voice was pinched into a whine again, but I was past caring. “Mourn for myself? I don’t have the right. You’re a slave, my mother is dead, the demons drive people mad every day, and all I’ve done is complain and—”