Celia peered at him. “Didn’t you feel bad, after you killed the Throcknell guards?”
He stared at the path as though he hadn’t heard. She was certain he would ignore all her questions, until at last he took a deep breath. “Not unless I mull it over. And what’s the point of mulling it over? It needed doing, and I did it. And it’s over now.”
Her heart began to race at the questions that percolated in her mind. “Who else have you killed?”
“Harvesters. Demons.”
“Demons like Tobias?”
His jaw tightened. “Samael’s skeleton, you chatter like a cowbird.”
She hurried to keep pace with him through the winding streets. “I’m just trying to figure out if I should sleep with one eye open. I know you hate me because I’m a Throcknell.”
“I don’t hate you. I merely mistrust you.”
That was hardly fair. She’d helped him and Thomas escape the Throcknells. Had he forgotten so quickly? “What have I ever done that’s not trustworthy?”
“You tried to cast aside Tobias in order to save a pearl-licking cousin. And do you know why you made that choice?”
Angry heat burned her cheeks. “I have a feeling you’re going to tell me, since you know so much about me.”
“Because at your core, you believe that some people are born better than the rest,” he spat. “Your flesh and blood are made from the gods, isn’t that what you’re taught? You’ve got god-blood. It’s what makes it so easy for your kind to carve us up like pumpkin lanterns and hang us in the square. We’re not true humans to you.”
Arrogant bastard. He thought he knew everything. “I don’t think I’m better than other people.” At least, she wasn’t going to admit it so openly. Whatever the case, she was quickly losing control of the conversation.
A quick smile dimpled his cheeks. “Oh, really? You don’t believe you were born to rule, then? You don’t think of yourself as a queen, because of your godly lineage?”
“That’s not the point.” What was the point? She couldn’t remember how this had started. “The point is—how do I know you’re not going to murder me in my sleep?”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “How do I know you’re not going to carve some more names into my flesh like your noble friend Asmodeus?”
That really wasn’t fair. Asmodeus had abused them both. Maybe the chinless freak hadn’t broken her bones, but in order to save her own life, she’d had to endure his wet, lusty kisses night after night. A scream of rage rose in her chest at the thought of him. “I am not like Asmodeus!” She lunged, shoving Oswald. Hot tears stung her eyes.
He held up his hands defensively, staring at her. “Fine.” His pale gaze met hers. It might be the first time he’d looked at her with anything other than anger. “Noways will I murder you in your sleep. I wouldn’t put my life in your delicate hands, but I’ve no cause to murder you.”
She blinked back her tears and turned, continuing toward the common. It hadn’t gone how she’d wanted, but it was a start.
6
Fiona
Fiona sat at the end of a long wooden table, as far from Estelle as she could get. Four rows of tables spanned the common, each decorated with lanterns, seashells, and wildflowers. Steam rose from copper vats of stewed venison, fried clams, and cornbread.
A portable vintage radio crackled from one of the tables as a newscaster droned on, and the air hummed with conversation, punctuated by the occasional howl of someone’s familiar.
Tobias sat across from her, and he ladled venison stew into his bowl, unwilling to meet her eyes. Why had she called him a monster? Apart from lying about his new demonic abilities, he’d never been anything but kind to her. She’d probably confirmed his worst fears. He still blamed himself for failing to save Eden—even if it was because he’d been busy saving Fiona’s life at the time.
The real monster was Jack.
But something about Tobias’s demon side bothered her. Maybe it was the strange certainty that if she lingered too long with monsters in the darkness, the shadows would swallow her whole. Maybe she was actually a bit like them. She stared down at her stew. For once, she didn’t feel like eating.
Tobias stared beyond her, his dark eyes on the murky coast. His body had that unnatural stillness he’d taken on ever since he’d carved himself. Still, she could see a glint of hurt in his eyes, and she had a sudden urge to pull him from the table and wrap her arms around him. She needed to tell him she was sorry, and everything would be okay.
Swallowing, she reached for his arm, and she felt the heat radiating from his skin. His eyes darted to hers. But before she could utter a word Estelle was at their table, her face contorted in a scowl.
What the hell is her problem now?
“Am I interrupting something?” She wore an emerald-green gown—stunning against her gold skin.