suicidal. Pandora’s Box seemed to be a recurring theme in her life, and Donna wondered if she was ready to truly take the lid off and see all the evils that lurked inside.
But hadn’t she already done that, just by being here?
The Wood Queen sat up straight and looked Donna in the eye. “Whether or not it is something you should know is another matter entirely, but I do not lie when I tell you that your precious magicians have kept important truths from you.”
“But how do you even know that?”
The woman’s painted brows rose in genuine surprise. “Because I have had dealings with the magicians for centuries. How else?”
Donna shivered, realizing how truly old the creature sitting before her was. It was sort of humbling.
She licked her lips, knowing that she wouldn’t have the chance to ask questions in this way again—Aliette obviously wanted something from her, and Donna needed to use that to her advantage.
“You might have dealt with the Order for centuries, but their ranks changed over time. You act as though this is … personal. What aren’t you telling me?”
“Perhaps their ranks have not changed so much as you think.”
What? This was getting too weird, and Donna couldn’t help but listen to the rising fear that urged, go back while you still can. But of course she pressed on. What else could she do?
The comforting sounds of cups clinking and milk being steamed brought her back to the room. She took a deep breath of the freshly ground coffee scent wafting over them from the nearby counter.
“Who exactly are you talking about? No more games. No more riddles.”
Aliette’s fake human eyes gleamed. “You persist in pretending that you don’t know these things.”
“But I don’t know!” Donna glanced around nervously, aware that she’d practically shouted with frustration. She blew out a breath. “I really don’t.”
The queen shook her head, mockingly. “The Magus has you all well and truly in his thrall.”
The Magus. Simon Gaunt. “You’re saying that Simon has been around for … longer than it appears.”
“Of course; since when is anything about the alchemists what it appears?” Aliette’s tone was flint-hard. “The Archmaster’s power weakens daily as his life trickles away, like the sand of human life does. Each grain a moment, a year. A life. The Magus continues and continues, never changing. Never dying.”
Immortal. Simon was immortal . No wonder he was so furious about the loss of the elixir. He’d been using it for years. For centuries!
Donna frowned, leaning forward with interest despite her growing horror. “Why are you telling me this?”
Aliette’s red-tipped hand gestured at nothing. “A token of my good will.”
Donna snorted. “Right. You’re a monster who feeds on the lives—the souls—of innocent humans. You’ve been doing it for centuries. Why should I believe anything you say to me?”
“Am I really so much worse than your precious alchemists? They deal in demon souls, I in human souls. We do what we must to survive—isn’t that the way of all things, whichever world they live in?”
Donna’s temples throbbed. “Demons? Now you’re telling me that Simon is summoning demons?”
“Ah, if it were only as simple as mere summoning,” Aliette said, a mysterious smile playing across her mouth.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Then you are even more naïve than I thought.”
Donna’s mind was whirling as fast as the tattoos across the backs of her hands. Her confusion, combined with the nauseating pain in her fingers, forced her to lean her head forward and focus on nothing more than getting through the next moment.
She took a slow breath, not wanting to see the almost feral interest on the queen’s face. Ask her something else—distract both yourself and her , Donna thought. “Do demons even have souls?” she blurted out. It was the first thing that she could think of.
“Of course. All living things have a life force—a
But hadn’t she already done that, just by being here?
The Wood Queen sat up straight and looked Donna in the eye. “Whether or not it is something you should know is another matter entirely, but I do not lie when I tell you that your precious magicians have kept important truths from you.”
“But how do you even know that?”
The woman’s painted brows rose in genuine surprise. “Because I have had dealings with the magicians for centuries. How else?”
Donna shivered, realizing how truly old the creature sitting before her was. It was sort of humbling.
She licked her lips, knowing that she wouldn’t have the chance to ask questions in this way again—Aliette obviously wanted something from her, and Donna needed to use that to her advantage.
“You might have dealt with the Order for centuries, but their ranks changed over time. You act as though this is … personal. What aren’t you telling me?”
“Perhaps their ranks have not changed so much as you think.”
What? This was getting too weird, and Donna couldn’t help but listen to the rising fear that urged, go back while you still can. But of course she pressed on. What else could she do?
The comforting sounds of cups clinking and milk being steamed brought her back to the room. She took a deep breath of the freshly ground coffee scent wafting over them from the nearby counter.
“Who exactly are you talking about? No more games. No more riddles.”
Aliette’s fake human eyes gleamed. “You persist in pretending that you don’t know these things.”
“But I don’t know!” Donna glanced around nervously, aware that she’d practically shouted with frustration. She blew out a breath. “I really don’t.”
The queen shook her head, mockingly. “The Magus has you all well and truly in his thrall.”
The Magus. Simon Gaunt. “You’re saying that Simon has been around for … longer than it appears.”
“Of course; since when is anything about the alchemists what it appears?” Aliette’s tone was flint-hard. “The Archmaster’s power weakens daily as his life trickles away, like the sand of human life does. Each grain a moment, a year. A life. The Magus continues and continues, never changing. Never dying.”
Immortal. Simon was immortal . No wonder he was so furious about the loss of the elixir. He’d been using it for years. For centuries!
Donna frowned, leaning forward with interest despite her growing horror. “Why are you telling me this?”
Aliette’s red-tipped hand gestured at nothing. “A token of my good will.”
Donna snorted. “Right. You’re a monster who feeds on the lives—the souls—of innocent humans. You’ve been doing it for centuries. Why should I believe anything you say to me?”
“Am I really so much worse than your precious alchemists? They deal in demon souls, I in human souls. We do what we must to survive—isn’t that the way of all things, whichever world they live in?”
Donna’s temples throbbed. “Demons? Now you’re telling me that Simon is summoning demons?”
“Ah, if it were only as simple as mere summoning,” Aliette said, a mysterious smile playing across her mouth.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Then you are even more naïve than I thought.”
Donna’s mind was whirling as fast as the tattoos across the backs of her hands. Her confusion, combined with the nauseating pain in her fingers, forced her to lean her head forward and focus on nothing more than getting through the next moment.
She took a slow breath, not wanting to see the almost feral interest on the queen’s face. Ask her something else—distract both yourself and her , Donna thought. “Do demons even have souls?” she blurted out. It was the first thing that she could think of.
“Of course. All living things have a life force—a
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