“That’s quite enough, dear wife,” said Ignifex, and Shade’s grip closed over my mouth, so tight I could barely even clench my jaw; I could still breathe through my nose, but my breath came in panicked snorts.
Behind me, I heard Ignifex rise from his seat; then his hand stroked my head. “It’s not kind to scare the guests,” he said. “This poor man came so far to be brave for his darling Philippa, and you try to drive him away?”
He stepped past me to face Damocles. “You see I am a demon and therefore have the power to grant your wish.” His voice had gone quiet and remote. “Are you willing to pay the price?”
Damocles’s gaze wavered between me and Ignifex. “Are you going to hurt her?” he asked.
“My wife is not your concern.”
“I’d still like to know, sir.”
“Oh, I’m not called the Gentle Lord for nothing. As soon as you leave, she’ll be free to scold me again. The question is, will you leave with your wish granted?”
For a moment I thought Damocles would flee. But then he squared his shoulders. “I’ll pay anything that doesn’t hurt Philippa.”
“Then I will make you this bargain,” said Ignifex. “Your Philippa’s husband will die today, and you’ll see her in your home tomorrow. But you’ll lose your sight three days after.”
Damocles nodded jerkily. “I don’t need eyes to see her beauty.”
“Furthermore, she’ll come to you carrying a gift from her husband. You must promise to accept it as your own. Can you do that?”
“What do you take me for? Any child of hers would be like my own flesh and blood.”
“Say that you will accept it.”
“I promise.”
Ignifex shrugged and held out his hand. “Then kiss my ring, and your wish is granted.”
There was nothing I could do but watch as Damocles stepped forward, seized Ignifex’s hand and kissed the ring in one jerky motion, then sprang back.
“Is—”
“He’s already dead,” said Ignifex. “Go home.”
Damocles looked at me. “Thank you for your concern, ma’am. I’m sorry, but it really is best this way.” He paused. “Good day.” Then he stepped back into the bedroom; a moment after, the doorway was filled with bricks.
Shade’s grip melted from my face and I gasped in relief.
“I can see you won’t be much help when it comes to sealing bargains.” I looked up and saw Ignifex smiling at me as if I were a particularly adorable kitten.
I wanted to scream, to spit in his face, to claw his eyes out. Anything to rip away that smile. But I knew my anger would only amuse him. So I pressed my lips together and stared him down.
Ignifex shrugged. “And it seems you won’t be much amusement either. Shade, take her away.”
Instantly Shade hauled me to my feet and dragged me out of the room. As soon as we were out of Ignifex’s sight, he let go of me.
I leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor. My throat was clogged with memories of Damocles. He’d played with Astraia even more than me; Aunt Telomache had lectured for an hour when she found them catching frogs together.
You are the hope of our people.
Not just my family, not just the Resurgandi. I was supposed to be the hope of everyone in Arcadia, including Damocles.
But since my mission was a secret, nobody outside the elite of the Resurgandi knew there was any hope. So people were still destroying themselves with foolish bargains.
Maybe it wouldn’t make a difference if they knew about me. What kind of hope was I, when all I could do was watch?
I saw Shade hovering against the wall to my left. Even his bodiless gaze felt like a reproach.
“Leave me alone,” I snarled.
Then I remembered that I was supposed to be kind to him, but he was already gone.
That evening, as I sat waiting at the dinner table, it occurred to me that Ignifex might still punish me for trying to stop him. He hadn’t hurt me then, but he’d been amused. Surely any moment, when I ceased to amuse him—
But it seemed I was of infinite amusement. When Ignifex arrived, he only smirked at my silence and said, “No rebukes? I expected at least a promise of judgment from the gods.”
I picked up my wineglass, trying not to clench my hand. “You know how much the gods have done to punish you.”
“It is a pretty puzzle why they have not struck me down.” He took a sip of his own wine. “What’s more puzzling is why they do not strike my clients. Though I suppose they do a good enough job of dooming themselves already.”
I remembered Damocles laughing as his father swung him around and threw him into the hay. What had changed that boy into a murderer?
“I don’t know which one of you is more monstrous,” I said lowly. “You for offering or him for accepting.”
“Oh, don’t worry. That Philippa’s husband is a brute who beats her. What’s monstrous is that the gift she’ll bear to her dearest love is the pox. Though I suppose that’s romantic as well. Don’t poets all beg to die with their beloveds?”
I stared at him as he calmly ate a pastry stuffed with raisins. Had it been just yesterday that I’d thought him beautiful? That I’d wanted to touch him, this thing that laughed at suffering?
“You said she wouldn’t pay for his bargain,” I gritted out. “You promised.”
He licked his fingers. “Oh, she would have gotten the pox either way, so it’s nothing to do with me. And without that bargain, her husband would have recovered and lived to beat another wife, so our dear Damocles will buy something with his death. Perhaps not what he expected, but then, who does?”
I will buy your death with mine, I swear it.
But I did not say the words aloud. Instead: “By your standards, I could kill you and still be a dutiful wife.”
Ignifex laughed. “You can’t possibly worry for me, so you must pity him. I would have thought that, of all women, you’d lack patience for those who think they can profit by my bargains.”
I remembered Father’s remote calculations, Aunt Telomache’s dramatic self-satisfaction. Damocles had been nothing like them, for he at least tried to pay the price of his bargain himself. If anything, he was like Astraia, for they both believed that their love could solve anything.
They were both fools, but that was not their fault.
“He wanted to save the woman he loved,” I said. “You used that love to trick him.”