Vengeance Throne (The Callistra Chronicles #2)

SIXTEEN

Chapter Sixteen

Pasiphae did her best to clean up the blood on her face, using the scrap of fabric she had torn from her dress. She suspected there were probably still stains lurking at her chin, so she stared at her feet as she made her way back to Seth's palace, keeping her head inclined away from the watching fae.

By the time Pasiphae had slipped back through the glass doors and into her set of rooms, her heartbeat had calmed, though her horror at what she had done was just as thick and viscous. She couldn't wipe away her guilt like she wiped away the blood.

So when two hands dropped over her shoulders, she almost jumped out of her skin.

"Careful, careful!" Charlize shouted, darting back as Pasiphae brandished the knife.

Breathing hard, Pasiphae hastily stashed away her weapon, but Charlize had already seen the red tint on the metal.

"Sorry, you scared me."

"Clearly," Charlize said. She eyed the pocket that Pasiphae had shoved her hand in, then peered at Pasiphae's face closely. "By Callistra, what happened to you?"

"Nothing, I just ran into some trouble," Pasiphae said. She was barely audible to herself over the sound of blood rushing in her eardrums.

Charlize crinkled her button nose. Wordlessly, she lead Pasiphae across the room, and sat her in front of the vanity mirror.

"Really?"


It was worse than she thought. Pasiphae's entire right eye had swollen up after that graze with the floor. She had thought her vision was acting up because of the blood dripping into it, but there was in fact a killer gouge that ran along the length of her eyebrow to her cheek.

"You're supposed to be presented to the Court tonight," Charlize tutted. "Now don't scream—you brought this onto yourself."

Pasiphae was about to ask why she would scream, but then Charlize was placing two fingers on her injured forehead. Despite the warning, a noise tore from her throat on its accord when agony shot through the entire length of her body. It only lasted for a fraction of a moment, but it felt as if the faery had inserted a large needle into her bloodstream, and now the needle was trying to work its way out.

When the pain eased, however, Pasiphae's face had returned to normal. She looked like she had never been injured in the first place.

She almost laughed. She had held back from screaming until the very end of Morgana's attempt to torture her, and here she was, shrieking with one spritz of low faery magic.

"Better?" Charlize asked.

Pasiphae nodded. "What is this about tonight?"

At the question, Charlize pointed to the wall, where she had hung up several gowns made with fabrics of the brightest colours Pasiphae had ever seen. She almost had to squint just to look directly at the yellow one.

"Pick a dress. I'll go fetch the cosmetics."

Charlize turned on her heel and left, humming under her breath. Pasiphae remained seated, staring numbly into her reflection. She still had a spot of blood smeared along her neck.

"You will remember," she whispered. It felt like a promise when she was speaking aloud. Through the mirror, she could almost fool herself into thinking that it was Circe talking to her instead, reassuring her.

"If you are to live with yourself, you will not make excuses."

Pasiphae stood up then, breaking eye contact with her own reflection. She walked over to the wall, pausing for a short second, before her hands closed around a dress at the very back, the only one that she thought appropriate to wear.