Why is he like this? Why?
“Do you want us to fuck and die of treason, or would you rather we continue our fun plot to kill the Prince?” My hands lift at my sides as if I hold the two offers there in my palms, and it’s like he actually sees them now that I’ve mentioned it.
“Yeah. It’s uh…” he coughs gruffly and shoves a hand harshly through his thick hair. “It’s getting late. I should go,” he says, striding to the glossy black door before the words are fully out of his mouth.
The door slams behind without him so much as tossing a second glance my way. It doesn’t hurt to watch him go.
It hurts to watch myself continue to shove away all of the good men in my life.
And for what?
A sense of purpose.
It’s what my father would be proud of. Bringing down the leader of this realm is indeed what my father would have wanted for my future.
I just have to keep reminding myself of that every single time one of these men gets close to me.
It’s an impossible future I’ve set out for.
Killing the Prince is only the half of it.
NINE
WAKE-UP CALL
I sleep alone.It’s peaceful, and I’m used to it. I enjoy it. Especially in a bed the size of a small country.
It’s wonderful to fall asleep that way really.
Until my eyes open slowly to find a man gazing down on me with unseeing eyes.
“Why’s Zilo acting …nice?” Avian asks with total suspicion clouding his silver orbs.
My lips twitch, but the smile doesn’t fully form.
Nice. Hmmm. Who would have thought niceness actually existed in that man?
That does sound suspicious, doesn’t it?
“I have no idea.” The words tumble out on a yawn accompanied by a long and possibly stalling stretch that gives me the chance to avoid those sightless, prying eyes.
I feel him studying me. He’s picking apart my silence, my body movement, my fucking breathing, heartbeat and probably the fall of my lashes with every blink I take.
But I’m innocent.
I give him nothing.
When I’m done dragging out my morning leg, ankle, and toe stretches, I lazily look back at him. Narrowed attention is still held intently on me.
His hair’s shaved along the sides, and the thick single braid that pulls back against his head is perfectly put together. He’s flawlessly shaved the dark stubble along his square jaw. Not a hair is out of place.
And I know he’s as aware of everyone around him as much as he is of himself.
I just don’t understand his intuition whatsoever.
It’s impressive to say the least.
“You came on to him and tricked him into this forced niceness,” he speculates.
