The soft cloak of time slips gently around the pale stallion’s shoulders, caressing him with the kind of comforting warmth capable of the longest, sweetest sleeps. Time has changed him, subtly. There’s a light in his eyes that didn’t illuminate his face before. Well-adjusted and handsome, he’s become more charming—perhaps elusive, more private but without the burden of secrets. His walk carries the light footedness of an absolutely adored man, both by wife and children.

There’s a wisdom to him, perhaps. Quiet beneath his handsome swagger, but ever whispering in his ear.

Oh, that creeping darkness. That devil on his shoulder. It whispers in his ear, too. Dormant in these recent years—the world was too hectic for Litotes to focus on anything other than ensuring his family survived—but now, in the quiet, it purrs like a cat. Hisses when ignored. Curls up, hot and soft, on his shoulder.

The beach is a peaceful change of pace, one the shadow-weaver can allow. He breathes in and out, golden eyes closed, the image of a perfectly serene meditation. The ocean crashes in his ears and it’s almost, almost, enough to drown out the shadow feline purring in his ear. But she calls to him, the little cat walking up and down his spine, yellow eyes urgent and unblinking.

You’re not alone, Litotes, she whispers.

This time, he listens.

When Lie opens his eyes, there is no emotion in them. He simply studies the mermaid as she emerges, elegant, from the ocean. Some cruel part of him, some armored piece, comes undone in his chest. She reminds him of . . . what is it that she reminds him of? The lake in the heart of Hyaline?

The heart? Does she remind him that he has a beating, vicious, ravenous heart?

One that longs to break.

Litotes has always been self-destructive, but he doesn’t hear the bomb ticking as he takes a step closer.

Doesn’t feel the sword plunging into his chest as he offers Adriana a smooth, wicked smile.

There’s only a slight ache, a reminder, as the cat on his back kneads excited claws into his flesh.

“Do you always put on such a show for strangers?”

It’s in the shadows that Litotes finds his worst—his most carnal—desires. They have lived so deep within his magic, buried beneath the purring shadows he entertained his family with, that truthfully . . . Truthfully, the shadow-weaver forgot they existed. So caught up in the love for his family and the strange, humbling monotony of tending to them, Litotes completely lost the armor around him that made him so destructive.

But he did not actually lose that armor, did he? Broke it down piece by piece, placed it in a wardrobe, occasionally pulled it out to give the dark silver a shine. They moved, as most families do, moved and changed—and the wardrobe was forgotten. Lost to time, warped by rain and covered in dust: he sees it now. Dark brown and displaced amongst the crashing waves. A beam of sunlight splashes down and illuminates the armor as the door swings wide open. The only thing capable of tearing his gaze from Adriana.

The shadows around him shiver. The cat nips his back before diving off of him and disappearing into the water.

“I can’t possibly be that handsome,” Lie finally answers, glossy eyes quickly snapping back to Adriana.

A vicious knight in shining armor, who he’s always been.

“To find a change of pace, I suppose,” he answers lazily, wicked smile curving his mouth. “Why are any of us here?” he adds with a shrug. But then his gaze sharpens and he settles on Adriana with an intensity only the armored Litotes is capable of.

“I want to know why you’re here, though,” he calls, stepping forward coyly. A stray shadow whips out and dares to wrap around one of her legs, flirtatious.

“Hm . . .” Lie pretends to ponder, eyes flashing mischievously. “I quite like shadow-weaver already, but I’d love to hear what you come up with.” His heartbeat slows as the mermaid steps closer, wondering just how much of himself he’s willing to give up. Some instinctual, sick part of him wants to lie—knows to lie. To hide himself.

To be someone different.

Litotes knows a better man, knows plenty of better men. He knows every version of himself other than this one is a better man; but this is the snake-oil salesman his father taught him to be, this Litotes. He hawks a handsome face, a gentlemanly tip of his hat, an alluring swagger.

But he is a liar, and he always has been. He just thought maybe, maybe he learned what it is to be candid. No, he only learned how to be more cunning. How to fold a card into his sleeve just to strengthen his hand right when he needs it.

What is it that pessimists often say? People never change.

So, that poker face of his grins lazily, smugly, dastardly. It gives nothing of the heart within, the pride and the pain and the life he has lived. He becomes a villain as a flash of a smile shines beneath his tipped hat, hands tucked up against his belt, back pressed languidly against a pole. A hero, just in appearance.

“Lie,” he finally says.

The shadow around Adriana’s leg spirals further up, tugging gently, beckoning.

“Can I give you a reason to get out of the water?”