26. Yaroslava

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Now

Please, don't leave me.

You don't even know who I am.

Vlad, I love you!

Liar.

The words ring in my head, brittle like shattering glass. Never again will I promise to change to suit someone's tastes. Never again will I entrust my dreams to anyone but myself. And never again will I be the first to say those wretched three words.

What a foolish girl you are, Yara. Demons have no feelings, they only mimic what they see in you, the books in that forsaken house warned me so. Demons don't love. I was nothing but a toy for him--a toy who dared to ask for more and was thrown away for that.

Blinking the anguish away, I open my eyes. No, I didn't sleep. My thoughts sluggish, I feel like I awoke from a fever. Like I dived into my own memories too deep and got lost there. But not asleep. Still alive.

Only where am I now?

Tilting my stiff neck, I glance around, trying to recognize the surroundings. No art, no people dead or alive. I'm lying in a bed, in a room crammed with cheap furniture, garish clothes spilling out of the wardrobe, a pile of masquerade masks on the dresser, several wigs hanging from hooks by the mirror. And the room's window faces a birch park.

The Northern Birch Park. Where Jasna's body was found. Am I in the apartment she and Laverna rent?

Warmth tickles my ankle, and cock my head to see what it is. Surprise shoots through me. On the bed, among the folds of my chiffon skirts, Mir is napping, sprawled at my feet. His hand is on my ankle as if he'd been guarding me and then dozed off.

The memory of last night's events crashes upon me like a tidal wave. The photo, the kiss, the shadowy bones creeping in...Vlad.

He's finally found me, hasn't he? But I have to do something then. I have to catch him before he catches me, to stop him, to--

I fall back on the pillows as I try to sit upright. Something metal digs into the skin of my hand, restraining me. Confused, I look up and see a band on my wrist. "What the--" I'm cuffed to the bed. "Praejis!"

Startled by my voice and instantly awake, Mir jumps to his feet. His eyes dart around the room, searching for danger. He encounters no danger though, only my exasperated glare and my hand balled in a fist, helplessly struggling to tear free.

His muscles loosening, he twists his lips with sarcasm. "So I'm Praejis again? Entertaining."

Alarm makes my face hot. It wasn't Vlad, it was Mir who came to save me from the darkness last night. Mir was talking to me, listening to my hysterical nonsense, asking me to breathe...What else did I blurt out to deserve my blushing cheeks now?

Mir's white shirt is wrinkled, which means he's been by my side all night. But what happened? My thoughts spin in circles, scouting for an explanation. The magic keeping me alive went awry, trying to drag my spirit back to the world of the dead. And only a different kind of magic that somehow entered my body could neutralize mine, some reversal spell or elixir.

Yet, to affect me, it had to be in contact with my blood or saliva. I wasn't injured, so nothing could be in my blood, but...Mir kissed me, sort of.

"You're suppressing your powers, aren't you, Mir?" And the elixir he took to switch off his powers also partly switched off the power holding me among the living.

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