Namreth must enjoy the despair on my face, because his laughter fills the chamber. He tops up our cups again, relishing in his newfound victory. He watches the two of us like he’s plucking the wings off some hapless insect. I’m helpless to stop it.
“This is so entertaining, truly. Family should visit more often.” Namreth laughs.
“You know the truth now. Aren’s of no use to anyone,” Dietan says, lifting his goblet to his lips. “I do admit, though, she makes biscuits like a goddess.”
“You don’t say,” drawls Namreth.
“Yes, the finest I’ve ever eaten.”
I grit my teeth. The bastard.
Namreth seems giddy now. “Are you a good baker, girl?”
The truth is wrenched from my lips. “Yes.”
Namreth looks pleased to hear it. “It just so happens there’s a recent opening in the kitchens. Yes, you will serve nicely there, I think.” He settles back in his throne. “I appreciate your candor, nephew. I can’t wait to taste the biscuits myself. I always find a woman’s touch in the kitchen is unparalleled.”
A servant. I’m going to be chained to a kitchen, the exact place I’ve been trying to escape all these years. The pain inside warps me, twisting and turning and arching into my chest with barbs that explode outward. I remember Katharine’s warning. I should have heeded it and ran back to Alba or died trying. This stupid, piece-of-shit prince is sending me to the kitchen for the rest of my miserable life, and I’m fucking furious. I’m rage personified.
I’m going to kill him.
I leap to my feet and lunge at Dietan, but guards rush in and grab me by the arms, holding me back.
Dietan barely moves and doesn’t look at me.
“You lied to me!” This time, the truth feels so good coming out of my mouth. All the pressure in my head dissipates, the henbane loosening its vice grip on me as I shout, “I never should have trusted you!”
Dietan doesn’t react.
“Look at me, you coward!”
He doesn’t.
There is only one thing I can think to do.
I spit on him.
The glob lands squarely on the side of Dietan’s face. Slowly, he reaches up and wipes it away. When he finally turns to me, his eyes are cold, his brows lowered. He gazes at me intensely. With a small shake of his head, he clenches his jaw but says nothing.
“Take her away,” Namreth says.
The guards easily lift me off my feet, and I kick and scream, thrashing with every bit of strength inside of me as I’m carried like a child down the hall. Fury and anguish pour out of my soul, their guttural cry echoing around the room. They drag me out and slam the door to the throne room behind us. I’m still cursing Dietan’s name when the guards lock me the kitchen pantry.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Dietan
The torture begins the moment Aren is hauled away, hopefully to the kitchens, where she’ll be safe. Relief flickers briefly in my chest, but it’s quickly snuffed out as Namreth’s soldiers grab me from behind and throw me to the cold floor.
My knees hit the stone with a sickening crack, pain jolting up my legs. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out. I won’t dare give him the satisfaction.
“Where are the Rings?” Namreth demands, his voice slicing through the air like a blade.
“You already have them. They’re in your hands.” My voice is steady, though my heart thunders in my chest. Every word scrapes my throat like sandpaper.
It’s the truth. Namreth has me, so he has the Rings of Fate. He just doesn’t know it. My stomach churns at the thought, bile threatening to rise. I fight to keep my face impassive, to give him nothing.
“I don’t have time for riddles, boy!” he blusters, spittle landing on me as he yells.
