The Tyrant's Pet novel · Chapter 8 of 32

Chapter 8: The Well

I dropped to my knees beside her.

She was the newest of us. Last autumn's tribute. Twenty-one, and she still slept with the lamp on.

Her chest was barely moving.

"Nobody drink from that well," I said. "Nobody."

Women were pouring into the courtyard from every door.

Agatha shoved through them with her keys jangling.

"Clean water," I said. "From the kitchen barrel. A cup and a knife."

She didn't ask a single question.

She was back in seconds.

I pushed my left sleeve up past the old scars and cut a new line above them.

It stung. It always stung.

I held my arm over the cup and let the blood run until the water turned pink.

Then I lifted the girl's head into my lap and tipped it into her mouth.

Most of it went down her chin.

"Swallow," I said. "Come on. Swallow for me."

Her throat moved once.

We all watched her neck.

Slowly, the black veins nearest her mouth went pale.

Only those.

The rest stayed black as ink.

"More," Agatha said.

"More."

I filled the second cup.

The black faded from her throat and her shoulders. Her lips got a little color.

The Emperor knelt down beside me in the dirt.

He'd come out without his glove. His black hand was on my back.

"Ione."

"Third cup."

My arm had started to tingle.

I filled it anyway.

She coughed this time and swallowed on her own, and the women around us made a sound.

But her hands and wrists were still black.

"That's enough," the Emperor said quietly. "You're gray."

"She's grayer."

"Ione."

"You don't get to choose this," I said. "You drank a basin in front of the whole court. This is mine."

His jaw worked.

Then he moved behind me and put both arms around my waist and held me up.

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