I can do that.
Not that I have a choice. But I take another, fortifying breath and spin, pulling the door open.
Pink lips twist up. “Thereyou are.”
Ella shoves me back into the room with a hard push to my shoulder, leaving the door ajar. “I’ve been walking up and down the hall looking for you.”
She sounds irritated. I cross my arms as she looks around my basic room. Her lip curls. “They seem to be taking very good care of you. I’ll confess that I’m a little disappointed. It hardly seems fair, does it?”
I stay still, watching her. “You’re fucking delusional, you know.”
She makes a show of checking her pale pink nails, studying them. Her fingers brush against the ridiculously sized stone on her finger. Her engagement ring. “That’s no way to speak to your future queen, Anastasia.”
And then she straightens. “I don’t think I’m very happy with this arrangement after all. Crispin promised me that you were being punished. You don’tlooklike you’re being punished.”
My hands tighten into fists. “What more do you possibly want? Twenty years of mylife, Ella. Do you truly hate me so much that even that isn’t enough for you?”
“Yes,” she hisses. Her face darkens, mouth twisting as the last bit of the façade she keeps up slides away. “Idespiseyou.”
“I never did anything to you,” I force out through the anger in my chest. It feels like it’s growing, that it’s going to swallow me up if I don’t hold it back. “I never hurt you, Ella. We both know it. And I’m the one with the fucking scars to prove it. Now get out of my way.”
I try to push past her, but her nails bite into my arm as she shoves me back.
I ball up my fists, fully intending on making her move, but she waggles her finger at me. “Touch me, and you’ll be back in the main prison before midnight. Parrish is missing you dreadfully, I hear.”
I stiffen. “What the hell do you want?”
Ella’s laugh is low and vicious. She clicks her tongue. “Since I can’t seem to trust in Crispin to dish out an appropriate punishment, I’ll have to do it myself.”
She twists, opening up my wardrobe as I stare.
“What the hell are you doing?”
She glances at me from over her shoulder. “You don’t seem to have any belts here. Why is that?”
My whole body goes cold. Numb.
“If you think that I’ll stand here and accept that without a fight,” I grit out, “you’re wrong. And I don’t give a damn what happens to me because of it.”
She pushes the door closed with a sigh as I try to move past her again. “Such a pity. You used to be far more agreeable. I suppose I’ll have to make do.”
Her hand whips out, and she backhands me across the face.
My head yanks violently to the side, and I stumble into the wall, smacking my face against it. A small, pained noise rips from my throat as ringing erupts in my ears.
“There,” Ella says primly. I blink through the tears at her. “That’s better. I do hope you haven’t damaged my ring, Anastasia.”
My hand raises to my mouth. The pads of my fingers come away stained with red, the cut in my lip dripping. “You need help,” I breathe. “Truly, Ella.”
She only smiles. “Do I, though? Or are you so desperate to prove yourself that you hit yourself in the face? Such a petty, jealous way to live, Anastasia. Perhaps in another few years, you’ll be more accepting of the consequences of your actions. I’ll have to make visits on a more regular basis.”
She walks past me, pulling the door open. “You really should put some ice on that. Your face is quite vile enough without the swelling.”
Her heels click against the wooden floor as she walks away, and my ass hits the floor with a thump as I lean my head back against the wall.
I must have a fucking punchbag for a face. First Lazarus, now Ella. The slicing, sharp pain fades to a dull ache as I sit there, cautiously prodding at the blood with my tongue until I’m certain the bleeding has stopped.
Slowly, I get to my feet, wondering how I’m going to explain this. Or maybe Ella is already spinning her fantasy tale, eyes wide in false sympathy at my strange behavior. I’ll make a stop at the bathroom, see how bad it looks first.
