“She was starving, Galen. How do you expect to pull her magick if she’s dead?”
His nostrils flare, but he says nothing before ripping the blanket back and hopping out of bed. “So, you undermined me? Went against what I ordered? What have I done to lose your trust?” There’s genuine hurt in his tone and it makes my stomach sour. I have trusted Galen with everything the last six years. My life. My future. My heart. While the things he’s done are not always things I agree with, he’s done them for me.
For us.
I shoot from the bed and tug on his arm, forcing him to turn and face me. “I trust you, always.”
His eyes narrow. He doesn’t believe me. Why should he? Ever since the Dyrsjel arrived, I’ve made poor decision after poor decision. I can’t even properly explain why. She’s nothing to me. Sorin’s nothing to me. Galen is all I have, so why am I so determined to ruin it? At the end of the day, what is the point of any of this if he is not by my side?
“Come back to bed,” I whisper, running my hand down his cheek. I lean in for a kiss, but he pulls away.
The sharp lines of his body are prominent in the moonlight, his brows still pushed together. He remains silent as he begins dressing himself, my heart sinking with each layer of clothing he dons.
“Where are you going?”
“To fix this problem you’ve caused.” Before I can argue, he storms out of the room.
Fucking conscience.
“You need to wake up.”I tap on the iron bars before stepping back to rest against the stone walls of the dungeon. The Dyrsjel flinches, her gold eyes illuminating the dark corners of her cell. I wasn’t sure if I’d find myself back here again, not after how angry Galen was that I gave her food, but after he stormed off last night, the fate of this Dyrsjel has gnawed at me.
The air in the dungeons is stagnant yet damp, making for the most peculiar and unpleasant odor. I’d hold my breath if I didn’t have things to say.
“What do you want,” she grumbles, not standing from her bed. I lit a second lantern this time, and the extra warmth it gives illuminates the bruises on the side of her face.
He certainly didn’t go easy on her.
I look down to get away from the purple and red splotches, but when I do, my gaze lands on her wrists.
Red and bubbled from the iron shackles.
Swallowing thickly, I take a step forward. “I brought you this.” I raise the small loaf of bread and canteen of water so she can get a proper look. I’ll admit at first I wasn’t sure requesting such items from the kitchen would work, but the handmaids brought it without question. Their conversation, minimal as it typically is.
Her eyes widen. Then, quickly, they snap shut. “Go away.”
Sighing, I slide the loaf and canteen through the bars, making sure the cloth wrapped around the bread stays put. If Galen knew I was here again, I’m not sure what he’d do.
To her or to me.
But I knew what he was going to do last night. I knew, and didn’t stop it, because if there’s anything about me that’s certain, it’s that I’m a coward.
“I’m sorry about that.” I point to her face though she still has her eyes closed. Silence presses down around us. I have only a few minutes to spare before my meeting with the council, so I make my next point brief. “I shouldn’t have told him about our deal. But he’s out for the day, he won’t know I’ve been here.”
I have no idea why I’m telling her this, but my shoulders unclench at my admission.
Her eyes open and she glances at me, then down to the food before sliding her gaze to me again.
“I’ve never been great at keeping secrets.” I attempt to lighten the mood, but she doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t smile. She only watches me with those golden eyes. “I’ll let you rest, enjoy the bread.”
“You look like him.” Her voice is so soft, I almost miss it.
My heartbeat races and fingers clench around the bars. She must notice my sudden nerves because she smiles. Not an affectionate smile, but one of hunger. One of a predator. “Your hair is the same color.” She points to my head, and I absently run a hand through my dark tresses. “Your jawline is as sharp as a blade just like his.” She joins me at the cell door, pushing the bread and canteen aside with her foot before gripping the bars.
My eyes fixate on the loaf until her shackles make a terrible clanging noise against the iron bars. She scours my face, and naturally, I want to shrink back. To hide in the shadows from which I came, but I hold my ground. I return her scrutinizing gaze just as intensely, making sure she remembers whose presence she’s in.
Corrupt King.
“But there are differences about you.” She tilts her head to the side. “You’re taller.” That earns her a smile which she doesn’t return. “Your eyes are green and Sorin’s are—” She stops to close her eyes. “Dark as night.”
