Page 115 of Florescentia

“This doesn’t have to be difficult.”

“You are asking me to succumb to the only option you’ve left me. A venture born of manipulation. You are a careless, selfish monster.”

He laughed. “I am not asking.”

“Was anything real?” I bit out. “Or was I a meal? A sacrifice? A pet?”

His claw brushed over my cheek, his other hand smoothing from my waist to my back, pressing me against him. “None of the sort.”

I pressed my palms against his chest, struggling against the grip. I could feel the talons digging into my skin.

“Why would you want to return, anyway?” he whispered in my ear. “Your husband has passed on. Your father traded you. There is no life on Earth that would be more satisfying than what I can offer you.”

Just the thought was making me sick. “There is no satisfaction in a life without choice.” I tried to shake my head. “You let him trade me for my mother’s love, just like you are forcing me into the illusion of choice.”

“Is it force when it is a wish?”

“Would you say I wished for this? That my mother wished for it?” I gritted my teeth.

He didn’t answer, but he searched my expression. Relishing it.

“I will find my way back,” I said steadily, “and I will make sure you are trapped in this place forever.”

The scene was beginning to change. The temperature of the air, the water draining, even the silt beneath my toes.

I turned my back to him, but I was somewhere new by the time I blinked.

I was now in a room, a grand palace hall. The walls were made of mirrors, the silver behind them beginning to corrode. Even with its state of decay, the room had an old-world charm to its gilded excess. Chairs of imported silk, artisanal dyes, windows so tall they were nearly part of the walls themselves.

When I went to rub my chest, a soft fabric had replaced my dirty combinations.

I turned to the mirror. I didn’t recognize the reflection.

My hair was completely down, curls so long and luscious there was not one frizz or tangle. My skin was clean, a balm on my lips. And my dress was not formal, but the type of lounge dress that made you wonder what excess of wealth could consider this the least expensive thing to wear to bed.

From outside the windows, the illusion began to take form. From the blackness, trees and shrubs began to grow. The ground made itself from dirt, then grass sprouted as if I were watching it happen over several months. The pebble walkways snaked through the garden, and the flower beds and greenery began to bloom in the dark. Like a shadow puppet theater.

As I stared through the window, a reflection appeared behind me.

“Get away.” I turned on my heel.

Altair stood in robes just as regal, except his clothing looked as if the stars had woven themselves into the night sky, complete with a high thread count and a shimmer like diamonds. His human skin nearly glowed with how flawless it was. Though the shadows were not entirely tangible, they left a dreamy haze, the first clue that the scene wasn’t real to begin with.

“I just want you to understand.” He held his palms facing me, like I was some wild animal to be calmed.

“No.”

“Lucia.” He held his arms out. “Come now, don’t be that way.”

“Not one more word from your mouth, you snake.” I backed away. “Everything you say is poisoned. I will not be a puppet for your game.”

“I thought we liked our games, dear Iris.” He turned to smoke, then suddenly he was in front of me, my face between his hands. “We could have such a good time together. Isn’t that what you like? A bit of adventure? An experience above all experiences?”

“Not when I can’t trust you.” I tried to pull away, but he backed me against the window.

“After all that time together, you really think I wouldn’t be looking out for you?” He had a mocking, sad expression. “I’m hurt.”

“I won’t be making a decision until I know everything,” I said slowly, “about Dorian, about my father, about you.”