The man who tore open my tunic.
The man whose nose I had broken this morning.
My throat was dry as I studied his cruel face. He’d fully recovered from what I’d done. There was no color under his eyes, no hint of swelling anywhere.
Looking me up and down, one corner of his mouth curled into a lopsided sneer.
“Thought I heard you finally awake,” he grunted.
Kenna nodded to her father, angling her body to keep me behind her as Kane pushed further into Rhyan’s bedroom. “Yes, Father. She just woke up. We’re about to prepare her for dinner with His Highness.”
“You don’t look like you’re preparing,” he said.
“She just needed some water. Are you feeling better?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t have to feel better if this little bitch hadn’t punched me.”
“Father,” Kenna said, “Let’s put that past us.”
“Or maybe I should pay her back,” he said, his voice low. “I promised not to touchher.At least not yet. But Rhyan’s all alone in the dungeons.”
My hands flexed into fists. I’d never before wanted to so violently hurt someone I’d just met. Then again, in some ways, I supposed I’d known him for an eternity.
“I was thinking,” he said, “Rhyan’s nose is already broken. Maybe I should give his right eye a scar to match the left.”
“You will not touch him,” I snarled.
“Or else you’ll do what? Fucking nothing, because you know you’re too weak. One touch from me and you were on the ground. Not even your fancy mage light could save you.”
Fancy mage light? I blinked. The Valalumir. The very thing that had confirmed his true identity. He didn’t know what it was, didn’t know he was a God. And he wouldn’t. That kind of knowledge could be dangerous for him to have. But Imperator Hart—I had a feeling he knew. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was aware, or at least suspected, everyone’s true identity. And all at once, I wondered if his marriage to Kenna was less about hurting Rhyan, and was more of a way to control a reincarnated Guardian.
Kane’s eyes flashed. “Get fucking dressed. His Highness doesn’t want to wait, and you stink of gryphon shit. So, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to get in that shower, and give yourself a thorough, long scrub. And then you’re going to put on the dress you were told to wear. No complaints.” A slow smile spread across his face. “I have the key to your sister’s room.”
I stopped breathing. My body was numb.
“She’ll be ready,” Kenna said. “Please. Let me help her into the shower. Tell my husband I’ll see him shortly.”
Kane’s eyebrows furrowed, his angular face twisted in agitation before he huffed, and turned around. “One hour.”
The door slammed shut behind him.
I gasped, nearly falling over, my hands slamming into the desk. It was Kenna who caught me, her hand on my back, steadying me.
“It’s all right. Take a deep breath,” Kenna said softly. “Don’t fret for your sister. It’s known all over the fortress she’s here. The whole Empire is going to know soon, remember? He wants everyone to know it. He’s going to hold that over the head of the southern Imperator. No harm will come to her for that reason alone.”
I shook my head, the backs of my eyes burning. “You don’t know that.”
“I do.” She looked away, swallowing hard. “She’s going to be paraded around so the stories can spread.”
I wanted to cry. She’d be kept alive. But that didn’t protect her from the wounds no one could see. The ones concealed by clothing. The ones she’d carry inside.
“Be strong,” Kenna said. “As a guestof Seathorne, she does have some protection.”
“Guest?” My voice shook. “Be honest. Say hostage.”
“The words are interchangeable as far as His Highness is concerned. Now please, I really do want to help you.”
She returned to the table, refilling my glass of water and bringing it to me.
