Erin Evans - The Adversary

A crash. Another shout. Another voice, that wasn’t Farideh, wasn’t Lorcan. Havilar snatched her glaive from where she’d set it against the wall, blood thrumming. Here was something she could solve, she thought.

“Gods damn it,” Brin cursed. “Where are my breeches?”

Farideh turned at the door to her room and held up a hand to stop Lorcan from following her. “Go down to the taproom,” she said, wishing she didn’t have to, wishing he’d known well enough that she couldn’t be around him right now. “Just come up when your spell’s running out. We can trade.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lorcan said, brushing past her and into the room. “Surely you can control yourself for a few hours.”

Farideh stood, hand on the doorknob, remembering Temerity’s hand in Lorcan’s, him leaning close enough to kiss her. We can get to that later of course, darling. Her stomach was in knots. “Go down to the taproom. Please.”

He looked at her as if she were making a terrible joke, and if possible, it made everything worse. “So I cool my heels and wait to see if Temerity’s new friends come calling? I suppose the protection spell will let you know if I’ve been torn back to the Hells? Think it through, darling.”

“Don’t call me that,” Farideh snapped. Of course, darling. She shut her eyes, embarrassed at how deeply that had wounded her. Lorcan was silent. She heard him cross the room, felt him reach past her to slip her hand off the knob, and for a moment was relieved.

“If you’re going to shout,” Lorcan said, “close the door.”

Farideh looked away. “Do you call all of us ‘darling’?”

For a moment, Farideh felt sure he was going to change the subject, twist their argument into something she’d done wrong. He stared at her for so long with those dark eyes that weren’t really his. “No,” he said finally. “It doesn’t suit all of you.”

“How many does it suit?”

“Four, now,” he said. “Two of my warlocks are dead, two have thrown me over. Four of the remaining have no interest in me calling them any sort of endearment, and one thinks of herself as old enough to be my grandmother, so I’m the one she calls pet names. You, Temerity, my actual Greybeard heir, and the heir of Zeal Harper seem to enjoy it just fine.” Stubbornly she held his gaze, and it was like pressing on a bruise.

It seemed to agitate Lorcan too, and he burst out, “And that is one of the many reasons I don’t care for my warlocks to introduce themselves to each other. You build up these little versions of the pact that don’t exist and get angry when you find that they’re not real. Did you think it would make you happy to know?”

“No,” she said quietly. “But I’d rather know the truth.”

You are a piece in a collection, she thought. A little idiot he amuses himself with by keeping dancing.

Farideh drew a long slow breath and bit down on her tongue to shock the thoughts from her head. Don’t wallow. Don’t be a fool. You knew this was how it was. You knew there were others and you were only one of a set. You knew he was a devil. You were doing so well. .

“Please go,” she said, tears crowding her throat. She wasn’t about to cry in front of him, not now.

Lorcan stayed where he was. A surge of magic rolled over him from the center of his chest outward and the illusion dissolved, leaving behind his natural form. Horns curled back from his brow, his skin turned red as live coals, and batlike wings erupted from his back, spreading wide enough to block Farideh from the door before curling closer.

“No,” he said. “You don’t get to chase me off because you refuse to have a little sense, darling.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

“You need to decide,” he went on, “what you want from this pact. You push and you pull, you struggle like you’re fighting every step of it but then you refuse any chance to get free of it. You turn around and make rules and get angry I haven’t broken them for you. I’m not your lover. I’m not your champion. I’m the devil you made a deal with, and I’ve done more than enough for that. We don’t have any other sort of agreement.”

“I know that,” she said, but the words came out soft and damaged.

“You haven’t asked for any other sort of agreement,” he said coming closer. Close enough to touch. She didn’t want to be angry at him, didn’t want him to go-

And then he added, nastily, “It certainly didn’t occur to you before, when you were swanning around with that paladin.”

She blew out a breath. Why did she think she could master this? “First, if we don’t have an agreement, then you have no right to throw an acquaintance in my face. Dahl is not your business. And second”-she curled her nails into her palms-“No. I’m done. I’ll go and sit downstairs. Come find me when you can disguise yourself again.” She moved to slip around him, but he caught her by the arm.

“I meant what I said-Temerity learned about you from somewhere, and the gods only know who she contacted once we left her shop.” He leaned nearer. “If you leave me, then we’re both in danger.”

“If I stay. .” She looked up at him, her anger tangled in embarrassment, her embarrassment in lust. “Lorcan, I am two breaths from breaking this pact,” she said, her throat a knot. She swallowed hard. “Let me go, or I-”

“Or what?” he said, holding all the tighter to her arm. “You’ll throw me to Sairché because of other warlocks that you have always known about?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Because that’s what happens if you break the protection spell,” he went on. “She finds me, and I’m done for.”

Her pulse sped-he was getting angry. “I don’t want that-”

“You clearly want to punish me for some indiscretion that wasn’t even-” Farideh felt her cheeks warm. “This isn’t about punishing you.”

“Really? So it’s about poor Temerity?”

“It’s about us !” Farideh shouted. “It’s about the fact that there is nothing under the sun that is ever going to make you stop being a devil. And I know that, and I’ve always known that, but this. . This makes it abundantly clear how much I haven’t believed it. You’re right,” she said softer. “I’m no one special. You’re no one special. I don’t know what I want from this and I should. So give me some gods-be-damned space to figure it out, because if you make me choose right here, right now, I choose to be done.”

Lorcan was as quiet as a hunting cat watching her. “Because of Temerity?”

Farideh shook her head. “Because I know myself. And I know you a little better now.”

“Whatever you think you know,” Lorcan said, every word packed with rage, “whatever I call or do not call Temerity is a trifle only a stupid girl would fixate on when Sairché is extremely capable of tracking us right now.”

Farideh’s heart was still pounding, her head still light enough to float away. There was no changing Lorcan, and apparently, there was no changing herself. “Then break the pact,” she said. “Sairché doesn’t want you, she wants me.”

“And that’s better than accepting you don’t get to tell me what to do? Do you think my sister would have done half the things I’ve done for you?”

“I think your sister would know to give me a little space,” Farideh said, “instead of insulting me until I want to run from her.”

Lorcan started to retort when the door opened. He had no more than turned, reaching for the sword he wore on his belt but a burst of magic splashed over him, freezing him in place. Farideh leaped out of the way, back to the wall, and pulled her rod from its place in her sleeve.