He managed to maintain his composure just long enough to steer me out of the dining hall and usher us far enough away that there was little risk of our being overheard. Gripping onto my elbow, he swung me around to face him as soon as we reached the privacy of an alcove, his features contorted into equal parts rage and fear. “Farrow, are you even listening to me?” he demanded, shaking my shoulders.
I must’ve still been in shock because I hadn’t uttered a word since we’d left the dining hall. My mind was reeling to catch up to my body, trying to make sense of things as horror crashed over me. Devereaux had stolen my autonomy, forcing my body to bend to his will like a puppet master—andAugust—he was in danger.
I tried to twist out of Casimir’s hold, but his grip was unrelenting.
“I was under the mistaken impression that you possessed a modicum of sense,” he said his breathing ragged. “And yet, not two days after you swore you would steer clear of DevereauxGraves, I find the two of you sitting together like old friends! Have you completely and utterly lost your mind?”
My lips moved before my mind comprehended what I was saying. “Just—shut up for a second, will you?” I growled. I needed a moment to process what the fuck had just happened.
Behind my confusion was a growing sense of outrage at the unfairness of this whole situation. His vitriol where I was concerned was more than just unfair, it was entirely misplaced. I snarled, “I don’t know how you expected me to avoid Devereaux’s stupid secret society without knowing anything about them.” I tugged against his grip until he released me.
Casimir pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in exasperation. “What happened?” he asked flatly.
I huffed in annoyance. “I don’t know what happened. One minute, Devereaux was inviting me over to their table, and the next—” How could I explain how he’d seized control over my body? The thought of Devereaux’s cold smile was enough to send a chill slithering down the length of my spine.
And then, there was August’s display of bravery in knocking the glass out of my hand. He’d stopped Devereaux from poisoning me, but why? Why take such a risk? He’d known there would be consequences. Thinking about it made me feel exhausted and dizzy.
I shut my eyes and tried to sort out the mess of my feelings against my overwhelming fatigue. To make matters worse, nausea began to roil in the pit of my stomach, pitching dangerously.
“I think I’m going to be sick.” Which was odd, because I hadn’t actually drunk any of the wine. I swallowed hard, stifling the urge to vomit. I realized I was swaying on my feet, and I reached out a hand to steady myself on the stone wall.
Casimir’s anger deflated. “That can happen after being around someone like Devereaux,” he explained.
My head snapped up so I could stare at him. “What does thatmean? Is he…a…” The question died on my lips. What was Devereaux exactly?A mesmerist? A fucking wizard?All of the possibilities my mind conjured sounded childish. Absurd. “A mentalist?” I finished weakly.
Casimir’s eyes still glinted with the remnants of his earlier fury, but they softened now as he met my burning curiosity. He let out a hollow laugh. “Devereaux Graves is something much worse than a mere mentalist.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
He leaned back against the alcove wall and let out a frustrated groan. “I didn’t want to involve you in any of this.”
I huffed impatiently. “So you’ve said.Obviously, it’s too late for that now.” Devereaux had as good as promised to seek me out again. “How do you know Devereaux?” I demanded. “And what did you mean, calling him and his friends ‘exiles’? Devereaux is the head of the Gilded Circle, for goodness’ sake! His family’s exorbitantly rich and connected.”
After a pause, Casimir answered. “Devereaux is the head of the Gilded Circle, it’s true. But he also recently founded a new society, known as the Bloodthorn Order.”
I fronted. The Bloodthorn Order? I’d never heard of it before. I opened my mouth to ask him what exactly this society was, and then froze. Evren had said something strange, back in the Tusk, and it now rose to the forefront of my mind.
“Going to chop off our limbs over a mortal girl, Cas?” he’d said.
Amortalgirl.
Finally, the question I was afraid to ask slipped from my lips. “Whatareyou?”
A muscle ticked in Casimir’s jaw, and then he scoffed, but not before I saw the flicker of recognition in his eyes. “I can’t believe you’re asking me that,” he ground out.
“Don’t lie,” I warned. “I’ll know if you do.” Not strictly truein his case, but I was willing to stretch the limits of veracity if it persuaded Casimir to tell the truth.
He shot me a curious, almost skeptical, glance.
I broached the subject from a more delicate angle. “You said Devereaux was something far worse than a mentalist. What did you mean?” I held Casimir’s gaze, willing myself to remain composed as he silently weighed whether or not he could trust me.
At last, he answered through gritted teeth. “Devereaux Graves is a Daemon.”
“A Daemon,” I repeated. There was a long pause. “And what the fuck does that mean, exactly?”
“It means he’s not human.”
My stomach gave a nauseating flip. A Daemon.Not human.