Corabelle stared intently at the edges of the dark rot for any sign that it was healing, or at least stopped spreading.

  Maybe she got one of the ingredients wrong, missed the heart, or was just too late?

  As the seconds stretched on, she knew the antidote wasn’t going to be an instantaneous cure. Potions worked quickly but they still had to be spread by the body. Still, the paranoia that she’d somehow messed this up kept scratching at the back of her brain like a feral dog. Self doubt poisoned her mind against her.

  Yet, she kept her focus on Zaramir, intently watching, hoping for a sign that he was going to be alright. She forced her mind to focus solely on him, avoiding the sight of herself.

  With dried blood on her shaking hands, and dried tears on her cheeks, she knew this obsession was far better than the alternative.

  Though try as she might, her mind still betrayed her as she caught a waft of blood, saw her stained skin out of the corner of her eye. The image of the body clawing its way from its entombment in the recess of her mind despite her best attempt to send the monstrosity back to its crypt.

  Zaramir had to be alright.

  After an indeterminate amount of time, she saw it. The edge of the hole through the centre of his chest was beginning to lighten, heal. Fresh skin creeping over the wound. The necrotized flesh was peeling away, allowing living tissue to grow.

  With a deep purposeful breath, his eyes opened. His hand reached up to his chest to feel for the point of the bolt, being met only with dried blood, soft skin, and dried purple ooze.

  He sat up, ignoring her stuttered protests as the final sign of necrotic skin fell away.

  “Thank you,” He forced out, voice strained.

  She gave a quick nod as she pried her fingernails out of the palms of her hands.

  Nothing else was said as they sat on the bloodied lab floor.

  Zaramir’s eyes didn’t leave her, first locked on her face before drifting down her hands, folded tightly in her lap.

  “There’s something we must discuss,” he said suddenly, though barely loud enough to be heard.

  Her heart shuttered, nerves pulled tight as the strings of a lyre.

  His tone was tight, strained, and he didn’t wait for a response. “I'm aware now is a very poor time, but I’m not sure how long it can wait.” His gaze remained on her bloodied hands. “ First, I’m not upset that you killed that other Faedemon. If he… under other circumstances it would be commendable.“

  Commendable?

  A knot formed in her throat, hot tears burning her eyes. The image of the body rising to the forefront of her mind once again. As truly evil as he’d been, there was nothing commendable about what she did. It was horrific.

  “But Miss Cora,” he continued, forcing his eyes up to meet hers. “He belonged to a member of the same Court as my master.”

  Spikes of ice ran up her spine. That’s why he had called Zaramir ‘brother’. If he was part of Zaramir’s Court, he was part of hers.

  Her mind reeled, everything around her darkening. She’d seen what they’d done to Zaramir over a book. She couldn’t comprehend what they would do to her over this.

  “Miss Cora,” His firm voice brought her back.

  “What's going to happen?” She squeaked over the knot in her throat.

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  He took a deep breath, “There’s more you have to know.” His eye contact broke, returning to her hands. “I know what you’re afraid of but it’s… different. I couldn’t tell you--but--” Each word he spoke seemed as though it was piercing him through the chest.

  “What?” She questioned a new unknown unease building deep within her chest.

  His knuckles whitened in his lap, his hand balling into tight fists, “You don’t belong to the Fae.”

  She stared, she understood the words, but the greater sentence seemed alien. Her mind eventually came to the only possible conclusion, “Now’s not the time for jokes, Zaramir. Please just tell me what’s wrong.” The unease only grew as he gave no sign that he had been kidding.

  “It’s not a joke,” he said firmly. “I couldn’t tell you the truth because I was hoping if you believed it, they might not pay any attention to you, but now… I’m certain you’ve drawn attention. Though I was being truthful, you truly don’t belong to the Fae, Miss Cora. Not my Court nor another.”

  “I don’t understand.” She treaded carefully as though there was cracking ice beneath her. One wrong word and she’d be plunged into icy depths. “If I'm not a Faedemon… then what?

  He flinched, prespressing the heels of his hand into his eye, “ You… are a Faedemon. In the technical theory sense. You just don't belong to the Fae; they aren’t the ones who brought you back. You aren’t bound to one of them.”

  His words made no sense. How could she be a Faedemon with no Fae Master?

  “I--” She murmured, looking for any indication. “What are you saying?”

  “Promise you’ll hear me out before you become angry. Promise you’ll allow an explanation.”

  The ice cracked beneath her, “Tell me.”

  He took a short breath, “I lied to you about Kyrian. He didn’t die hoping the Fae would revive him.” He forced his gaze back toward her. “Since my creation, I'd always been curious about the process to create a Faedemon and when Kyrian found my notes, he became enthralled as well. He was so certain we’d gotten it right that he--he made sure i’d find him after he…. That I'd be able to bring him back.” He forced himself through the words as quickly as possible. “I--I failed, that much you could have guessed. But I knew what went wrong. At least I'd hoped I did. When you died--”

  “Stop!” That uncanny feeling suddenly came to a head, a repressed intuition pushing itself free. Her mind had been withholding something crucial but she was just given permission to understand. Everything he was imply, even before he fully said it, she knew the truth

  “Please allow me to finish,” he pressed, ignoring her request. “When you died,” His voice broke as he tried to repeat. “I-- I couldn’t let it go the same way as it went with Kyrian. I corrected the error that lost him and this time I succeeded. I brought you back as my own Faedemon. I didn’t want to hide this from you, but the longer you acted as though you belonged to the Fae, the longer I hoped they’d pay you no mind, that they’d just assumed you belonged to another Court. But now… they'll notice you, so I have no reason to hide this. It’s better that you know.”

  The ice broke, the frigid water encapsulating her in a whirlpool of piercing thoughts. They stabbed her brain one by one but melted before they could take hold.

  “Why?” was all she could utter.

  He paled, as though he hadn’t been expecting her to ask. He released a measured breath, squeezing his eyes shut, “I know it was selfish. I know I shouldn’t have done this, burdened you with this, but I just couldn’t stand to lose another.”

  ---------

  Zaramir didn’t dare open his eyes as he awaited her response. The seconds, minutes, stretching on painful silence.

  “It was selfish,” She finally spoke, her voice low. “But I understand why you didn’t tell me.”

  He opened his eyes to find her staring through him, carefully processing each word as she spoke.

  “And I suppose it’s better you than them, but I have to know,” her focus returned. “Can you control me like they could?”

  He had to answer her truthfully, no more lies, “Yes.”

  “Have you?” She asked carefully, hesitating as though she didn’t want to know.

  “Never on purpose,” He stressed. “But yes.”

  Her eyes drifted away. She didn’t dare to ask what he controlled or maybe she already knew and just didn’t want to admit it.

  He finally broke the silence, “I know you’re upset, but can I at least ask something?”

  She nodded slowly, eyes blank.

  Corabelle had the same gut wrenching look on her face as when she’d first learned of her resurrection; the look that made him wish he’d just been selfless enough to let her go. He had to know her feelings, “Do you still believe this might be better than death?”

  She didn’t respond as she stared through the floor. Her silence was answer enough.

  Though as Zaramir began to stand up, ready to give he space, she grabbed the hem of his shirt.

  “Yes,” Her voice had a new strength. “I still believe that.”

  A relief he didn’t want to feel passed through him.

  “Though, I almost wish you hadn’t told me the truth,” She said as he sat back down beside her, trying to keep his expression solemn. “Because I'd much rather be angry with the Fae than with you.”