Something claws at me with terrifying desperation. It wants to be seen, known, heard, soothed. Though I stand before Notus, it feels as if I stand before Father. I attempt to reach him, yet always, he brushes me aside. I do not feel understood. I feel burdensome.
“That’s not what I wish,” I croak.
“Then what do you wish?”
My twisted mind has the gall to misinterpret his inflection, the lowering of his voice to something decidedly more intimate. “I wish you would have come back to me.” So that we might face this new world united instead of as separate parts. “Instead, I spent the entire evening watching you woo another woman despite the plan we’d made.”
“What?” He’s stunned. “Who?”
“Black hair, silver gown, huge chest. You don’t remember?” How convenient. “You touched her back. Iwatchedyou touch her.” My lips peel back as though I am a snarling dog. “Who is she?”
Again, this damned, dreadful silence. I fear his response, yet I’m no coward.
“I don’t know who she was,” he says.
“Lies.”
Notus glances at the ceiling while muttering what I believe is a prayer. “You are quick to make assumptions, Sarai. Yes, it appeared that I touched this woman’s back.” He looks at me then. “Did you ask yourself why?”
What a foolish question. “Because you’re attracted to her, obviously!”
“By the gods,” he mutters. His hand slips to his beltloop and emerges clutching something long and tapered: a dagger.
I stare at the weapon. “I don’t understand.”
“I don’t know who that woman was. I’ve never seen her before.” He searches my gaze. Perhaps he wishes as desperately to understand me as I do him. “But I saw the shape of the blade beneath her dress. When I searched her, this is what she carried.”
Prior to entering the palace, all guests save those who serve the royal family are required to remove all weapons. Additionally, each person is thoroughly searched. How did this woman manage to slip past?
“I was concerned she would use it against the king.” After sliding the weapon into its sheath, he returns it to his beltloop.
“Where is the woman now?” I ask.
“Locked up for questioning.”
I see.
Notus must recognize my skepticism, for he adds, “My duty is to the crown. You know this.”
My chin lifts. Anger, that vibrant green shoot, leading always to fear rotting its roots. “And what of your duty to me? I am your betrothed.”
He shifts his weight back onto his heels. I’m tempted to ease forward and close that bit of distance. “The engagement is a farce.”
“Not to everyone else.”
“Why do you care what others think of you?” he demands, tossing up a hand in exasperation. It accidentally hits one of the shelves, sending linens tumbling to the ground. “Why is their perception of you more important than your perception of yourself?”
I flinch back. “It’s not.”
“Isn’t it?”
My lungs squeeze as I attempt to draw in air. I do not feel in control of my own emotions. On the contrary, I feel powerless against them. “Don’t pretend that you know anything about what I feel,” I say through clenched teeth. “We aren’t talking about my emotions. We’re discussing your failure to keep your promise to me.”
“My failure?” He scoffs. “Again, you sent me away, Sarai. That’s your own fault. Though now I question why you did it. Are you embarrassed to be seen in my company? Ashamed of me in some way?”
“Of course not.” Nothing could be further from the truth.
“Then why is this an issue?” he demands.
