Sin had had enough of this. She’d had enough with powerful bullies finding the destruction of her will to live a priority in their lives.
Sin dabbed a napkin to her chin before standing. “Thank you so much for allowing me to join you.”
“Did I say you could leave?”
A moment went by for too long where Sin stared down the king as she remained standing. She had nothing to live for anymore and was no longer scared of death.
Max stood abruptly, the sound of his chair scraping harshly against the floor, grasping her arm and wrapping it around his elbow. “Pleasure as always, father.” The sudden stillness that followed seemed to freeze the entire room, all eyes locked on them.
Sin could hear the king’s teeth gritting, not arguing with his son for taking her away.
They left the dining room, the dimly lit halls casting flickering shadows as the bustling kitchen sounds faded. The air was cooler here, with the faint scent of aged wood and candle wax lingering, adding to the sense of foreboding that followed them. Sin refused to try and interpret what the king was grumbling under his breath, already knowing it had to do with his disliking of her being there. She wondered how Max would pay for that defiance later.
She almost asked why they were walking, but instead, “I apologize for asking about your mother.”
She didn’t know why she apologized—perhaps it was habit, perhaps it was the unease that still lingered from the dinner. She had seen the tension in Max’s face, the way his eyes darkened at the mention of the queen. The last thing she wanted was to cause him more pain, even if she barely understood why she cared.
“Why in the world would you apologize for that?”
Sin became tongue-tied, not knowing how to approach a topic that had the entire dining room silenced.
“She was exiled,” he whispered.
Sin immediately lifted her head to meet his gaze, but he looked nowhere but in front of him. “She had an affair,” he continued, speaking at a low volume. “And rather than have her executed like most kings do, to maintain a relationship with her homeland and not risk war, he placed her in exile with a handful of servants.”
An awkward silence built before he spoke again. “I’m not sure how long that false peace will last, though. They must know by now that she is exiled and only kept alive for political reasons. I’m just glad that she is safe and away from him.”
“Then why don’t you just—” Sin started, and immediately stopped talking, horrified with herself at how easy it was to begin asking him why they don’t just kill him, the king—his own father.
They appeared outside the bedroom door to the servants’ quarters, and he lifted her chin. “There are many things in play that I cannot talk about. Just know, nothing is going to happen to you.”
His words cause her to instantly remember her future. What she had planned for herself since the king passed his sentence. She thinks about what Oliver said about the princess, and decided right then that she needed to leave somewhere far away. To go and unlock her power that wouldn’t be caged for long, sooner, if she could figure out how to properly wield it.
Did she have feelings for Max?
Unfortunately, she did, and knew she couldn’t deny it. He promises it will all work out, but when in her life has she ever been able to trust a male? They don’t make them like Maurice anymore.
Max frowns at whatever he sees on Sin’s face, then steps forward, bracing his other hand on the wall, caging her in. The flickering torchlight cast shadows across his face.
Sin’s breath caught, her back pressing against the wall as if trying to create distance. Max’s jaw tightened, the shoulder muscles rippling as his eyes bore into hers, their serpentine appearance glowing with an unnatural intensity, his auburn hair making them blaze ever more fiercely. Her heart pounded, and a chill ran down her spine, every muscle tensing with the urge to shove him away, or to his knees.
He still had a firm grip on her chin as he growled, “You are mine, whether you want to accept it or not.”
She swallowed, and her pupils dilated at his words. Though she hated him for not caring about how she felt about their bond. She did want to accept it. She just couldn’t. Not while he was promised to another.
“Get the hell off me,” she whispered, refusing to push him away and risk him grabbing her hands.
He backed away, eyes still on hers as he flicked his wrist, waving his hand until faint shadow swirled in the air. Reaching into a space, making his hand disappear, he pulled out a large, rolled-up parchment. Not paper, but, canvas?
“I have something for you,” he said as he unrolled the painting, revealing a portrait.
Sin practically yanked it out of his hand when she got a glimpse of the woman’s face, and froze, eyes wide and mouth agape as she stared at the familiar face.
He was staring at her lips when she looked up at him, a million more questions she desperately needed.
“When you’re ready,” he murmured. “There’s more you need to know. Tonight, you need to rest.”
He vanished, leaving her alone at the door with her racing thoughts of him, and the drawing of a woman who looked a lot like Sin.
