She would not be able to—would notwant—to resist. Knowing it made her feel deeply, unbelievably ashamed. But at the same time, that shame was overwhelmed by the nagging knowledge of the kindness and genuineness he tried to hide—the person he kept so securely behind that mask. Was she delusional? Or was he there in truth? Her body, her heart, hersoul, they all yearned to find out. And so she knew that, if he asked her for her embrace, something she had never even considered with another man… she would say yes, and damn the consequences.
But… but that hadn't been the question. That hadn't been what he asked her.
Her breath was coming rapidly, and though she managed to contain herself, she could not entirely hide the way her chest was rising and falling in rapid succession. He, too, was staring at her with something new in his eyes.
Ansel spoke again. "I want yer honest answer," he whispered, leaning closer. He was so, so close. It would take less than a breath.
She met his eyes, forcing herself to remember her training. He had protected her, and he wanted her honesty. And so, she would give it. "If ye ordered me?" she asked him quietly. "If ye commanded me tae reward ye with me body?"
"Aye," he replied. "What would ye say?"
"I'd say nay," she told him honestly, though she knew such words could get a woman in her position in danger. "I'd refuse ye, Ansel, and turn ye away. I will give me blood and sweat tae me work, but I willnevergive meself under order, nae tae any man."
Ansel looked away, and the spell was broken. "Even under threat of punishment?" he demanded in a carefully neutral voice. "Even from yer prince?"
Freed from his gaze, Neala felt like she could breathe again. Emboldened, she responded more confidently, taking a step back from him. "I would rather be punished, whatever form that may take. I would ratherdiethan be used under orders. What is mine to give will be given freely or not at all."
Neala spoke boldly, but her heart hammered in her ears. She was suddenly acutely aware of the fact they were alone in this room, and of how physically imposing he was. She had already witnessed his strength. She did not want to fight him, but if she had to, she would.
But… even before he spoke, part of her already knew it would not come to that. Part of her knew that, despite everything about the situation saying otherwise, she did not need to fear that, at least. Because he had saved her already, and brought her here, and been gentle and kind even though it seemed to go against everything he stood for. Because underneath the princethat everyone saw, Neala had briefly seenAnsel—and she found herself knowing what he would say next even before he spoke.
He nodded curtly. "Good," he replied. He smiled, though it was cold and sardonic once more as he looked back at her. The mask was now fully in place. "Did ye think I would force ye?"
"I…" Neala started, not knowing what to say.
He laughed, a cold, bitter laugh that was laced with a surprising amount of pain. "I ken what they say about me. I ken who me father is, I told ye that already, and I ken that they all think I am him born again. I am nae angel nor saint, Abby. I have killed, and nae only those who deserved to die. I have stood back and even agreed as me father commanded horrific things. I will obey me king. But hear this. I have never andwillnever force a woman tae me bed, just as I have never killed a man without a weapon in his hand. I ken ye cannae trust me. But this is the truth. All I want from ye is yer honesty. And yer help."
Neala heard something raw in his voice at that moment that made her heart ache. Shewantedto help him, then—not with the attack on the rebellion, but with this fight against the darkness that she saw raging within him. There was no denying he had done and would do awful things. There was no denying he was dangerous.
But he would not harm her. She believed him on that with all of her heart.
He looked at her, and despite the cold mask, she saw something in his eyes. She gave him a small nod and he looked away.
"Stay here until I fetch ye. Dinnae be seen," he told her sharply. Then, without another word, he turned his back and left the room.
Neala stood in place for a few moments until she was sure that he was gone. Her body felt numb, partially from the ache of riding, partially from the feelings of being in this castle, andpartially from what had just happened. Shakily, she made her way over to the bed and allowed herself to collapse down onto it, flopping fully onto her back and staring up at the canopy.
Her head ached from all the emotion, the exhaustion, and the confusion of everything going on around her. She had to focus on what was important. Beforeanythingelse, she was a White Sparrow, and on top of that, she was the sister of the rightful king. She wouldnotsit idly by and allow events to unfold when she could act.
The rebels would be here in three or four days.IfElspeth had been successful, help from the Sparrowsmightarrive within the same timeframe. It was too tight a margin to risk. She had to act. Shehadto protect her country. Protect the rebellion. Protect her brother.
What would Laura tell her to do if she was here? What would Morag have suggested, if she'd had time in that dungeon? What did a whole life of training suggest that Neala should do in this unprecedented and unexpected situation?
She didn't have to think for long. She had seen a kindness in Ansel, though it was nothing compared to the darkness in which he seemed to willingly immerse himself. She could not allow herself to be distracted or mistaken: he was the enemy. But, somehow, she had gained his confidence, and maybe even his trust.
So there was only one option, one clear path. She could not allow the longings of her body or the confusion of her heart distract her from her mission.
Three days. She would use them wisely, and she would learn everything she possibly could from Ansel about his plans and the schemes of his father. She would pretend to help him while pressing him for as much information as she could.
Then, before the rebels arrived, she would do what she had to do.
Neala would kill Ansel, and clear her brother's path to the throne that was rightfully theirs. She would end the False King's line once and for all.
The Princess of the McNair Clan, the daughter of the White Sparrows, had a duty to her people. By her own hand, Ansel Ashkirk had to die.
16
"Here. Try this," Maeve suggested, adjusting the strap around the newly recruited soldier's back. This man, like many of those who had volunteered to join the assault on McNair Castle—or, as they'd heard the False King was calling it, the Sloe Stronghold—had been one of the refugees. Now that Patty and the other healers had managed to bring him back to health, he was eager to give back to the rebellion.
