Carnival of Souls

CHAPTER 18

BELIAS LOOKED UP, EXPECTING to see the witch who held him in her summoning circle. Instead, he saw his former betrothed. Aya had come for him.

“Hurry before she gets back,” Belias urged. “I don’t know how you got here… or how I got here but—” His words died as the witch came in the door behind her, carrying a tray of tea and sandwiches.

“I trust you can handle… everything. I’ve brought food,” the witch said.

“Thank you,” Aya said softly. She took the tray and stood silently for a moment until the witch departed. Once they were alone, Aya asked, “Will you promise not to hurt me in any way if I bring you food? She said you won’t eat.”

“How do I know it’s safe?”

“You have my vow, Bel.”

He watched her warily. He had no intention of hurting her, not without knowing if she was trapped somehow too, but he wasn’t going to stand here and let her re-erect the circle. Once she dropped it to give him the food, he’d be at the door. A flash of guilt came over him at the thought of leaving her there. He stepped to the edge of the circle. “Are you a prisoner here too?”

“No,” she admitted. “I came to see you.”

“You knew I was here?” He’d thought he’d had his fill of betrayal when she poisoned him, but he felt the flare of renewed despair when she admitted that she’d known where he was. “You knew this whole time and you’re just now… Why?”

Her hands tightened on the tray she held. “Do you, Belias, vow not to harm or attempt to trap me?”

“I do.” He waited for her to add something about trying to escape, but she didn’t. He had already studied the room, and aside from the ritual knife on the edge of the witch’s desk, he saw nothing worth grabbing as a weapon.

Instead of lowering the circle, Aya caught and held Belias’ gaze as she stepped into the circle as if it wasn’t there. The look in her eyes wasn’t one he’d often seen there. Fear. He backed away, and the fear in her eyes was replaced by her regular unreadable expression. She put the tray on the floor and left the circle with as little effort as she’d used to enter it.

Belias put his hand up, pressing on it, testing the barrier as he had done so often since he’d woken up in it. “You stepped through a containment circle. You’re…” His words faded as he couldn’t speak the terrible truth.

“A witch,” she finished for him. “I’m a witch, Bel.”

Fresh disgust settled on him as the pieces fell into place. She had not poisoned him; she’d sold him to a witch. She was a witch. Belias dropped to the floor, trapped inside the circle where Aya had sent him. He stared at her. “I wanted to spend my life with you. I offered you everything I have. I entered the competition and have killed because of you.”

“I know.” Aya’s expression was as unreadable as he’d ever seen it. She stayed still, spine straight and shoulders back. Her hands were held loosely at her sides, and he had the thought that she should be holding a weapon. It reminded him of the fights they’d had in the ring and in the sparring centers. The difference was that he was defenseless this time.

He stared up at her, the witch he’d thought he loved, and couldn’t understand how he could’ve been so wrong. “You took everything from me.”

“Not your life. I spared your life.” She gestured at the sandwiches beside him. “Eat, please. You’ll get ill if you don’t.”

“Why does that matter?” He turned his gaze to her. “You’re not intending to let me return to The City, are you? This is it. Either the witch kills me or keeps me here.”

“This world isn’t that bad, Bel. Evelyn says—”

“Get out.” He slammed his fists against the circle. “Get out of my sight.”

The usually stoic Aya flinched. “I couldn’t kill you,” she whispered.

When he said nothing, she continued in a steadier voice, “There are very few things I wouldn’t do to have a future. If I breed, they’ll know what I am.”

“So this was your solution? Take away my future, my home?”

“You didn’t leave me a lot of choices,” she said. “You bribed them so you could fight me. I know because I’ve been bribing them not to match us. You trapped me. I couldn’t forfeit, and I couldn’t kill you. So I had Evelyn summon you here.”

Her eyes flared witch-gold for the first time he’d ever seen, and on some level, he realized that she was letting down a wall. After years of trying to get her to share herself, to trust him, she chose now to do so.

“Don’t do this to me, Aya,” he pleaded. “We can figure out a plan that—”

“It’s not her decision,” Evelyn’s voice interrupted from behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder to see the witch leaning in the doorway watching him. Instinctively, he started to move so that Aya was behind him, putting his body between the two witches, and immediately felt the fool. Aya was far more suited to defend herself against Evelyn than he could ever be.

Evelyn walked past the circle to her desk. She paused beside Aya and handed her a sachet. “This will do what you need.”

“Thank you.” Aya closed her hand around the sachet. She walked to the circle and lifted her other hand as if she would touch him. She didn’t reach inside the circle though. “For the first time, I am afraid to touch you. I’ve listened, Bel: I know what you think of witches.”

“If you weren’t a witch, would you have broken our engagement?” It was a foolish question. She was a witch, and that was unchangeable, but he still wanted to know. “Was this the only reason?”

She shook her head. “I can’t know that, but I don’t think so. I don’t want children. I want…”

“Power,” Evelyn finished. She sat at her desk, hands folded together as if in prayer, appearance as stern as it had been every day he’d been trapped here, but that harsh demeanor softened ever so slightly as she watched them. “Aya wants to bend the world to her will. It is a consequence of what she is. Some witches are more driven than others, but it is always there. It is why the Witches’ Council exists — we simply can’t see our way clear to allowing things to be out of order when we have the skills, the knowledge, and the strength to correct aberrations of order.”

Belias watched Aya’s expressions as the witch spoke. She didn’t speak to disagree with anything Evelyn said. The daimon he’d loved wasn’t real. It was just an act to disguise her true self.

How could I have thought I loved a witch?

“I would rather you had killed me,” he said quietly.

Evelyn’s sigh was his only answer. “Enough of this. Aya, you’ve had your audience with the daimon. Now, I need privacy.”

The witch lifted her hand with as little effort as one used to brush away an insect, and the circle became silent. Belias could no longer hear anything but the sound of his own breathing. Then, everything outside the circle became darker as he watched, until his entire world had been reduced to the few feet around him.

AYA HAD TRIED NOT to flinch away from Belias’ anger. She understood all too well: she’d done all of this to avoid being killed or trapped. She was still trying to avoid that fate, and along the way, she’d consigned Belias to a similar one. If she could’ve married him and kept her secret, she would’ve. It wasn’t what she was made for, but loving him had almost made her turn her back on the desire to help The City. The hope that maybe he’d understand that she was more than a witch had tempted her — but hope wasn’t enough.

She’d considered having a child, hoping that she could suppress the child’s magic. She’d even implored Evelyn to teach her how. When Evelyn refused, Aya knew it was far better to avoid motherhood, far safer for her and any child to simply avoid the chance of death or enslavement, far better for Belias never to know that she was a witch. She couldn’t condemn her child, so at eighteen — the earliest she could become anyone’s breedmate or wife — she had ended her betrothal to Belias and entered Marchosias’ Competition.

But then Belias had entered too.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” She threw the first knife as she walked into his training room, but he’d expected it. A heavy leather-and-chain vest protected his chest and stomach. His arms were bare, but the vital parts were all protected. Except his face. She launched the second knife, and he dropped to the floor.

“Apparently, I’m dodging your temper, little bird.” Belias picked up her knife.

She started across the floor, scowling at him, when he threw the knife at her. It nicked her upper arm, a slight cut that stung and bled, but it wouldn’t incapacitate her. She smiled and looked at her torn, bloodied sleeve. “Your aim gets worse every time you do that.”

He snorted. “Not likely. My willingness to injure you is all that’s changed, and you know it.”

Rather than acknowledge that truth, Aya bent and picked up her knife. While her expression was hidden, she said, “I didn’t expect you to enter the competition.”

“Do you want me to withdraw?”

Aya straightened. “Yes.”

Belias gave her the sort of smile that had led to nights spent lost in each other, but he still approached her cautiously. Her other knife was held loosely in his hand. “I am willing to withdraw if you do.”

“I can’t,” she whispered. “I want a future, Bel. I want to change things, make a difference—”

“You can do that without becoming a killer.” He stood in front of her now. Slowly, so she could escape if she wanted, he reached up and caressed her cheek. “We can negotiate whatever terms we need together. You and me.”

“I can’t be yours,” she told him yet again. “I want more.”

“More than me?”

“It’s not about you, Bel.” She gave in to her one weakness then and kissed him. When she pulled back, she told him, “You know I love you. If I were to marry anyone, it would be you, but I won’t marry. Ever.”

AYA BRUSHED AWAY THE few foolish tears she’d shed at the memory. They’d only been together a few more times after that. The more she’d fought, the more they’d both killed, the less they talked. Belias had no desire to prove himself in public fights, and he grew increasingly upset by her notoriety and reputation for ruthlessness.

WHEN SHE RETURNED FROM the first fight she’d nearly lost, he was there waiting. He had let himself into her apartment and stood there fuming. “Where is the daimon I have known my whole life, Aya?”

“Right here.” She grabbed a cloth and swiped at the blood on her face, smearing it rather than cleaning it away. “I’m still right here.”

Belias snatched the rag from her hand and wiped the blood that was dripping into her eye. “You don’t need to keep doing this. One of them is going to kill you, Aya. If he’d caught you a fraction lower with his claws—”

“But he didn’t.” Aya pulled away and turned her back to him. In her frustration, she couldn’t get the buckle loosened on her boots. “Maybe I’m good enough. Maybe I’ll win this thing. Does that ever occur to you?”

His hand came down gently on her shoulder; he turned her to face him. “It does, but not as often as the terror that one of them will get lucky or you’ll get matched to someone faster or better trained or… I can’t keep doing this.”

For a moment, Aya wanted to give in, to tell him the secrets that drove her, but Belias hated witches even more than most daimons did. He blamed them all for his father’s death. She closed her eyes. The moment was expected; before the first night they’d spent together, she’d known that he wasn’t going to be in her life forever. Knowing didn’t mean that reaching this point finally was painless.

She held out her hand. “My key.”

“So that’s it? You choose killing over me? Over the future we could have?” Belias’ grip on her shoulders tightened, keeping her from walking away.

“We were never going to be able to have the future you want.” Aya stayed perfectly still and stared into his eyes. “I will never have children.”

“Aya,” he whispered. “We can both quit the fights. We’re already ruling class, and you’ve proven that you’re a capable fighter.”

“Tell me you’ll always treat me as your equal. Tell me you’ll accept my decision not to ever have children — and not resent me or pressure me to change my mind. We can secretly take in a scab baby, hire someone if necessary, but I cannot bear a child. Swear to it, Bel, and I’ll do it. I’ll give you forever if you can accept that we’ll never breed. I can’t change that.” The hope she rarely allowed herself filled her as Belias leaned in and kissed her gently.

When he stepped away, he withdrew her key from his pocket and handed it to her. “I can’t change who I am either. I have to have an heir. I have to have a ruling-caste wife, and unless you are my breedmate or my wife, I can’t have you.”

“To be clear, Bel, you’re choosing tradition over me,” she pointed out with as little bitterness as she could manage.

“We’d have a future — a good future. We can still hire whatever staff you want to raise the child, but I need a child of my blood.” Belias shook his head. “I could wait, but I can’t accept never having an heir.”

AYA WONDERED IF HE remembered that conversation.

She had often dreamed that they’d find a way to compromise, but that dream was gone. The last few wisps of “what if” had shriveled as he stared out from the circle where she’d sent him.

Aya had seen the flash of fury in Belias’ expression as Evelyn changed the circle. That was proof enough that he could no longer hear them. As if I’d have any reason to doubt her. Evelyn was one of the most frightening creatures Aya had ever encountered. If Marchosias had an equal in either world, it was the witch who currently held Belias prisoner.

“Are you sure it’s wise to return there, Aya?” Evelyn folded her hands together again. “If this spell goes awry, you’ll be exposed.”

“I made a bargain.” She tried not to watch Belias pace the circle like a caged animal. She’d dreaded seeing the look of horror in his eyes when he found out what she was, but she knew she’d never be what he wanted. Daimons and witches didn’t breed. Common knowledge in The City said that they couldn’t, but she was proof that they could.

Evelyn’s voice drew Aya’s attention back to her. “You could stay in this world and take a position here at Stoneleigh-Ross.”

“No.” Aya didn’t belong in the human world. The rules here made no sense, and she didn’t expect that witches would be any more accepting of her daimon side than daimons would be of her witch side. She glanced at Evelyn. The witch who ruled in this world wasn’t any safer than the daimon who ruled in The City. The difference was that she understood The City, that she had power, position, and — hopefully — a future there. “Never.”

“Not even if it meant being with your daimon?” Evelyn prodded.

Aya shook her head. “Belias knows what I am now. You didn’t see the way he looked at me….”

“You could tell him you’re not all witch.”

Aya returned a mirror version of Evelyn’s smile. “Everyone knows that witches and daimons can’t breed, and all I have is your word that my father was a daimon.”

“And talons,” Evelyn added wryly. “Witches don’t have a second form.”

At that, Aya shrugged. She knew full well that she was a hybrid, but she wanted to know who her father was. She’d wanted that since she’d learned that her parents weren’t really her biological parents. Evelyn wasn’t forthcoming with that information though; all she’d said was that the daimon who’d fathered her had no idea — and that he was so disgusting that it was in everyone’s best interest to keep him unaware.

“I deserve to know,” Aya argued yet again.

“No you don’t. He is too insignificant to matter.” Evelyn walked around the front of the desk and stood as close to Aya as she ever did. It was a far cry from affection, but if Evelyn ever indicated that she felt anything remotely maternal, Aya would suspect a ruse.

Neither witch said anything further. They stayed side by side watching Belias pace and snarl for several moments. His talons were extended now, and he was searching the walls as if they were physical, as if there was some snag he could widen.

“If he can’t be convinced to cooperate, I will have to kill him,” Evelyn reminded her. “You staying here might be sufficient reason to convince him. He cares for you as much as any daimon is able.”

And to that, Aya didn’t have anything remotely polite to say. Belias had loved her; she knew that. She had also seen his eyes when she stabbed him, when he realized she was responsible for his imprisonment, when she revealed that she was a witch. She’d sacrifice a lot to keep him safe, but she wasn’t sure she was able to give up her world and her dreams — or become tied to the one daimon who had loved her and whom she had betrayed.

“It’s witches’ capability for affection I question,” Aya needled. “Maybe I should ask my daimon father if he is capable of caring for me….”

She was at the door before Evelyn said, “He’s not. Maybe your Belias is different, but the daimon whose spawn you are is not capable of anything affectionate. Sometimes you’re more like him than I thought possible.”

Aya didn’t pause as she replied, “Perhaps that’s what comes of abandoning me in The City.”

She opened the door with a whispered word, proving by her action that even here in her mother’s space she could bend the world to her will. It was a quiet statement, but it was a statement all the same. Being a daimon-witch hybrid made her an aberration in both worlds, but she wasn’t a weak aberration. Reminding the head of the Witches’ Council of that detail wasn’t a bad idea.