“It’s possible.” He folds his hands neatly on the table between us. “Wouldn’t be the first time a commoner posed as a witch to get inside the castle.”
“Well, I didn’t,” I hiss. “I don’t know what makes you think you know or understand me, but you’re pretty judgmental for someone who doesn’t have the full story.”
“Oh, and what’s the full story?” he challenges, leaning forward.
“The full story is that before yesterday, I didn’t even know that fae or witches existed. I had never heard ofBlackbloods, and I certainly didn’t know that I would be tortured and kept here against my will until you figure out if I can be your precious Dragon Rider. So if you’re going to sit here accusing me of having an ulterior motive, then you can turn around and marchstraightout that door. It’s you people that want to use me for your own personal gain. Not the other way around,Captain.”
The liquid gold in his eyes seems to simmer. Beneath the rage, they are hypnotic. Igrid does not dare breathe beside me.
“I’ll let you in on a little secret.” He leans in further and drops his voice, making him seem all the more threatening than if he were to bellow at the top of his lungs.
“I believe you do carry witch blood in you, like Gnorr said. But I also don’t believe you’re the last Blackblood. I think you’re just another little liar looking for glory. An imposter hoping to scheme your way into a position at the king’s side. I don’t believe that the gods would bless a human-born brat with a single drop of black blood. I don’t think they would waste a moment’s thought on you, let alone choose you as the last Dragon Rider. You are nothing. You are no one.”
His whisper hangs in the air between us as I absorb his words. He rises wordlessly and heads for the door.
“If I’m no one, then why did you bring me here?” My voice rings out of its own volition, strong and sturdy, causing him to stop mid-stride. He angles his head over his broad shoulder. Without turning fully, his next words directed at Igrid.
“I entrust her to your watch. Should she cause any trouble, I will hold you personally responsible, Igrid. You won’t enjoy the consequences.” Just before he passes the threshold, he addresses me.
“Oh, and witch, if I hear you’ve been running your mouth about this to anyone else, I’ll sew it shut myself.”
He stalks away, and I slowly turn to look at Igrid, my eyes wide.
“Gods, he’s mean. But so damn beautiful.” A slow smile spreads across her face as she collapses onto the bench dramatically.
“He really does not like me.” I blow out a long breath.
“He’s the captain for a reason. He’s overprotective to a fault.”
“And alarmingly self-righteous,” I add, rolling my eyes.
“Yes, well, he’s a favorite of the king, but that comes with its own set of burdens.”
“I just don’t get it.” I push out of my seat to pace aimlessly around the kitchen. “I didn’t ask to be here. They must think I sent myself here using magic, but that’s not what happened. If I could just talk to the king and explain all of this?—”
“You won’t get an audience with the king unless he requests one.” Igrid shakes her head sympathetically at me.
“Or unless I do something to get his attention.” I slide my gaze her way, leaning against the butcher block counter. As I chew my bottom lip, my mind sifts through a wide spectrum of possibilities ranging from mild to bat-shit crazy.
Igrid studies me warily. “Serena—” she starts.
“I’m not going to do anything stupid,” I vow, glancing toward the door. “But he needs me. Which means I have the upper hand here.”
“What are you thinking? You’ve got a wicked look in your eye, missy.” Her brows slant in suspicion.
“I don’t know,” I admit, drumming my fingers on the counter. “But I’ll think of something.”
8
Aguard approaches Igrid and me midday and trails us the rest of the afternoon. His name is Sir Warryn. He’s young-looking—younger than Jack at least—and his features are delicate, boyish, and beautiful. He keeps quiet mostly, to my relief. I don’t think I could handle another hateful guard.
By the time I am returned to my room by Igrid and Sir Warryn, my feet are aching from being pinched in those flats all day. All I want to do is curl up in bed and watchVanderpump Rules. Then I remember.
They don’t have that here. They don’t have TV. Or Instagram. Or anything.
Before the door fully shuts behind me, Zadyn is there in his male form. He pushes it shut the rest of the way as I sink into the firm mattress face-first.
“Any notes?” I ask dryly, my voice muffled by the blanket. His brow ticks up, and he comes to sit on the edge of my bed.
