Surely I should be ashamed of kissing the creature who had killed so many.
“Did Ignifex send you?” I asked.
It was hard to tell, but I thought he shook his head, and I supposed that if Ignifex had sent him, it would be with orders to drag me back by the hair, not to ask me nicely.
“I think this is one of the hearts,” I said.
Shade went still, as if the slightest twitch was forbidden, so I knew I was right. Then he let go of me, and I turned to the mirror.
The key slid easily into the lock. When I tried to turn it, at first it stuck; then there was a tiny metallic click, and it turned easily in a half circle. With a high, sharp noise, the mirror cracked down the center.
I jumped back, but nothing else happened. After a moment, I stepped forward and turned the key again. Now there was more resistance; I heard a click-click-click as I turned the key, as if the motion were powering a set of wheels and gears.
Then the mirror shattered into a cascade of glittering dust.
A breath of cold, dry air hit my face. Through the jagged edges of the frame was a dim little room with stone walls; when I stepped over the threshold, I saw that it was the landing for a narrow staircase twisting down into the darkness.
“Can you make light during the daytime?” I asked. But Shade only tugged my hand again. I remembered him singing the funeral hymns beside me and I followed him down the stairs.
Very soon the darkness was absolute. I moved slowly, one hand against the wall, the other gripped by Shade. I could feel the pressure of his touch, but it was bodiless, as if the air itself were gripping my hand. It made me think of how the Children of Typhon had seized me and held me in place for devouring.
I forced myself to focus on the cool, smooth stone beneath my fingertips and the closeness of the air—there was no sense of gaping void in this darkness. There was no icy burn of liquid shadow against my palm. Still my heart beat faster, and my skin prickled as if preparing for terror.
Suddenly Shade let go. I stumbled forward and found I had stepped off the stairs onto the floor. The wall was gone and I groped wildly in the darkness, trying not to panic—
Light dazzled my eyes. I blinked, eyes watering, and saw Shade standing before me, as solid and human as if it were night, a curl of light in his palm. We were in a wide, round room of stone, utterly bare and featureless except for the doorway leading to the stairs, with no light except what glimmered in Shade’s hand.
“How—” My throat was dry and my voice cracked; I swallowed. “How can you have a body during the day?”
“It is always night in this room.” The light glinted in his eyes. He raised the hand with the light higher, and white-gold flames sprang up all around the edge of the room. They made no smoke, but they crackled softly; it was a warm, comforting sound, and warm air flowed over my face. And I felt the thrum of power.
“This is the Heart of Fire,” I said.
Shade nodded. And watched me, the firelight dancing in his eyes.
I squared my shoulders. “Go ahead. Tell me how I’ve done wrong.”
The words jutted between us, harsh and angry. I realized too late they were the sort of thing I would say to Ignifex. They were not anything I should say to the captive who had shown me nothing but kindness.
“He’s taught you anger,” said Shade. “But he hasn’t made you stop trying to save us.”
The anger and cruelty had always been part of me, and Ignifex knew that very well. But at least Shade was still deceived.
“No,” I said. “I’ll never stop. I’ll save you, I promise.”
“Would you die for that?”
“Why do you think I’m here?” I snapped, then drew a breath. “You know I’m prepared to pay any price.”
His fingertips ghosted down the side of my face. “You’ve grown so strong. You’re almost ready.”
“I don’t feel ready,” I muttered.
“You are,” he said. “Trust me.”
You don’t know me, I thought.
He had always comforted me before. But this time, the tension still coiled in my shoulders and stomach. A million words buzzed in my throat: He says he loves me. You kissed me and I wanted it, but I want him too. I believe you’re the prince. It’s my duty to save you and I swear that I will. I think I’m wicked enough to love a demon. Even just thinking them stung like bees, and I swallowed them all.
“You know the Resurgandi’s plan,” I said instead. “Ignifex says it will never work. That we don’t understand the nature of the house at all.”
“Do you trust him?” asked Shade.
I stared into his blue eyes that had once seen the true sun, and in that moment I didn’t want to refuse him anything. I meant to say No, never, of course not. But the words stuck behind my teeth. I remembered Ignifex’s fire driving back the shadows, his body curled trustingly against mine, his voice saying, You lie to me but not to yourself.
Finally I said, “I don’t know what to think. He’s not . . . I don’t trust him. But I don’t think he’s a monster.”
Shade took my hands. “Never doubt this: He is the worst of monsters. He is the author of all our misfortunes, and it would be the greatest blessing if he had never existed.”
Arms around me in the dark. Lips against mine in the sunlight. Do you know why I love you?
He knew me. And loved me. And he had never asked me for anything. Even Shade wanted me to die for him. Maybe I shouldn’t forgive a monster just because he loved me that way—but—
But loving me that way made him a monster. My doom was the price of saving Arcadia, and only a monster would care more about me than saving thousands upon thousands of innocents. Shade was the last prince; of course if he could save only one, he would choose Arcadia. I would do the same.
“Well, the Kindly Ones would seem to merit blame as well,” I said. “Can you tell me anything about them?”
“They never come unless they are called,” said Shade. “They never depart without being paid.”
“Are they the ones who made you like this?” I asked. “He doesn’t seem to remember. I thought he just captured you when he sundered Arcadia, but it has to be more complicated than that.”
Shade’s lips pressed together.
“I think he’s been made to forget something about you. He seems to really believe you’re just his shadow. But then sometimes he acts as if you’re a separate person that he once knew. He says you’re a fool.”
The fire crackled louder. It sounded almost like laughter.
“He is the fool,” said Shade. “Mourning and raging and he doesn’t even know how his wives died.” There was an edge to his voice I had never heard before.
Firelight danced in his eyes. Had the flames grown closer? I felt a sudden wave of heat against my face.
“He said they opened the wrong doors. Or guessed the wrong name.”
“Three of them guessed wrong. The other five? They weren’t strong enough. When I took them to this room and showed them the truth, they died. But you.” His voice was full of gentle wonder. “You looked on the Children of Typhon and survived.”
He spoke the words so calmly and I had trusted him so much that it was a moment before fear shivered in my stomach.
“I don’t know about that,” I said, wondering how fast Shade could run. The flames were definitely closer now; sweat prickled on my face.
“You are our only hope,” he said. I pulled my hands out of his and bolted.
But he didn’t need to run. He simply melted out of the air in front of me and grabbed my wrists, his grip as strong as Ignifex’s.
“Let me go,” I gasped, wrenching my arms in vain.
“You asked how I was made,” he said serenely. “I’m going to show you. I’m going to show you everything.”