Kresley Cole: Poison Princess

“I don’t accept that, don’t accept my part in this war.” When Matthew looked to argue, I cried, “No one can force me to fight!”

“You will want to, you will need to. There’s a heat in battle. It’s your nature.”

“I will ask Jackson for his help—”

“Not a card.”

“—and once we’ve gotten this disease under control, we’ll run together. You can run with us, Matthew. Surely you don’t want to go to war!”

“Jack versus Death? Who wins? You might survive, I might, Luna might, Finn might.”

“That’s why we’ll run where Death can’t find us.”

“He sees you even now. He listens to every word you say, every thought that drifts through your mind. No escaping him.”

“I don’t believe that I’m locked into this, that I’m trapped through no actions of my own.”

“You can’t control your powers. Lady Lotus made us sleep last night. Any longer? Jack sleeps forever.”

“What are you talking about?”

In a sly tone, Matthew murmured, “Lotus. Sleep forever and ever.”

“No,” I whispered, even as I remembered my nightmare. The villagers had lain down, falling unconscious. When I’d awakened, Jackson had been out cold. Had I released some kind of spore in my sleep? “Ah, God, I did that ?”

When I’d come upon Jackson in that window seat, I’d mused that he looked so handsome—and he’d been on the verge of dying because of me! “Then why won’t you help me control my powers?”

“Oh, you’ll learn. Soon. ”

I shook my head hard. “I owe this to Jackson. I’m going to warn him about the danger. If he still wants to be with me, I’ll do whatever it takes to protect him from other Arcana. From myself. But he has to know.”

It’s only fair, I reasoned, though I felt my hopes for our future plummeting.

“A storm on the horizon,” Matthew said ominously. “And we’re already behind. They laugh at us. They should .”

“Then let them laugh,” I snapped. “I’ll be back.”

As I walked into the hall, I thought he muttered, “Good-bye, Evie,” but I kept going.

Passing another guest room, I heard a groan from inside. Gasping, scuffling? Had a Bagman gotten in? A militia soldier?

Claws going sharp, I opened the door. . . .

Couldn’t believe my eyes.

Bile rose in my throat.

With his strong, protective arms wrapped tight around Selena, Jackson was kissing her for all he was worth.

DAY 246 A.F.

REQUIEM, TENNESSEE

“What better way to shut those thoughts down than with another girl?” Evie asks softly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

We sit in silence as I wait for her to compose herself. I could use a moment as well. So many things she’s said have perplexed me, making my head ache. My focus grows hazy. Just as she has striven to resurrect memories, so too have I.

I crave one of my elixirs, though it’s not nearly time for one.

“As I slipped away, I realized that Jackson had warned me.”

“So he is the one who hurt you.”

“I don’t blame him. He asked for so little from me. And Selena will never harm him with uncontrollable powers. She’ll protect him. I believe that she loves him.”

Though I’m running out of patience, I want to hear about the last two days, want some questions answered. “What happened after you found the two of them kissing?”

She flinches at my words. She might not blame the Cajun, but deep down, she still feels betrayed.

She’s about to know more betrayal.

“I . . . I . . .” She frowns, seeming surprised to have lost her train of thought. Right on schedule. With just ten more minutes of tape left. “So I . . . scribbled a note to Jackson, telling him that I had to continue, that I hoped he would be happy with Selena. I asked him to please look out for Matthew, to explain to the boy that it’s safer for everyone this way. For some reason, I’m convinced Jackson will protect him.”

“How did you get here?” I ask, my tone growing curt. My head is splitting. And her earlier blathering about voices has reminded me of a time before my tonics.

I never want to return to that time of shame—when other things divided my laserlike focus.

Before I ruthlessly eliminated the distractions.

Evie presses the heels of her hands against her eyes, rubbing. After blinking several times, she continues, “I stole Finn’s truck, figuring that he could easily get another one with his abilities. I drove till it ran out of gas two days ago. Then I just followed the road, hoping I’d find someone who would help me. I-I’ve been a wreck, Arthur. So confused, crying nonstop.” Her voice grows fainter. “I have never in all my life needed kindness like I did from you today. Thank you.”

No. Thank you . “I’m surprised you didn’t want to bring Matthew with you.”

“I wanted to so much. But how could I take him away from all of Finn’s food and safety? From the promise of security at Selena’s? Jackson was right—sending everyone into trouble was easy for me to do. Bringing Matthew north would’ve been selfish.”

I steeple my fingers. “But I thought you had powers now. You could protect him. What about the lotus?”

“It takes so much concentration. I think Matthew helped me with that, helped calm me. But I wouldn’t want his life to depend on it.”

Yet another power she can’t demonstrate.

She draws her leg up on the chair again, but it slips down. She doesn’t repeat the effort. “And I don’t want to use those powers, not if I risk turning into that witch.”

“Do you really think you can survive in this world on your own?”

“I have to try.”

“An army led by a sadistic family almost ‘enlisted’ you, forcing you to burn down your home, with your mother’s body inside. Then men who wanted to enslave you wrecked your car, risking your life. That militia caged you so you could be used by hundreds of soldiers.”

She pales, murmuring, “And somehow through all that, I managed to hold on to my . . . my humanity . I’ve kept the balance so far.”

“You believe that’s because of Jackson. Now what happens? Your anchor’s gone, fled into the arms of another.”

Her eyes water once more, yet she juts her chin. “M-my gran will help me the rest of the way.”

“You’re not tempted in the least to embrace your”—pretend—“abilities? So much strength to be tapped?” She can imagine such awesome power all she wants, but it won’t change the fact that she has already been defeated. She lost this match hours ago.

Evie told me that her mother’s view of the world had gotten rebooted violently. Evie’s is about to be as well. The optimistically cheerful girl—who never complains, who wants to be friends with everyone, who still waves at strangers—will disappear this night. One way or another.

“I can’t embrace those abilities, Arthur. I don’t think . . . don’t think that the good can be separated from the bad . . . risk is too great. I don’t want to become a killer.”

“How do you know if you’ve never tried killing?”

“I . . . I’m sorry. What did you ask?” Her head bobs once, but she fights to stay awake. Defeated.

Thinking about loose ends, I say, “Did you ever remember the answer to that doctor’s question? I want to know why you should have rejected your grandmother’s teachings.”

“Not yet. Feel like I’m sooo close.”

Alas, you’ve run out of time. Now I must make a decision.

Should I keep her as a subject—or a companion? As I gaze at her heavy-lidded blue eyes and her waves of glossy blond hair, I again consider giving her a place in my bed, rather than in the dungeon.