I don’t dare answer the trick question. I just stay very, very still.
“Why did you send me to the kitchens? Why did you have to say anything at all?” she continues, pain blossoming across her beautiful face.
I hear the question she doesn’t ask:Why didyou say you didn’t love me?
“Didn’t you see me shake my head? I tried to tell you it was all a—”
“A lie?” she finishes for me.
“Well, yeah,” I say.
“You’re kidding, right?” she snaps. “I was supposed to know what a shake of the head meant? You really are daft.”
It’s like she stabbed me in the heart. “I thought you knew me.”
“I do know you. I know you’re a moron,” she retorts, crossing her arms.
I bristle at that, my frustration rising. “Are you so thick-headed that you actually believed those things I said about you? I was obviously lying!”
“Uh huh, what else is new?” she says, turning to leave. I catch her wrist, holding it firm.
Our eyes meet, her breath hitches, and I feel the heat radiating off her skin. Her face flushes, her lips parting slightly, and something sharp and unspoken crackles in the air between us.
“I lied. About everything. All of it. If my uncle knew what you meant to me—” My throat tightens, the weight of my own words pressing down on me.
“But you didn’t lie! You couldn’t!” Aren hisses. “And you’re lying to me now!” She tries to yank her wrist free, but I don’t let go.
“I swear I’m not,” I say, willing her to trust me again. Her eyes shine like glass, swimming with unshed tears.
I see the battle raging inside of her—the hurt, the anger, the disbelief.
She’s so damn stubborn.
That much I’ve always understood. “I promise you, I didn’t mean a word I said to Namreth… Well, except that your biscuits are a godsend. I mean that quite literally now. They killed me to save my life.”
Aren’s gaze hardens, and it feels as if her eyes are burrowing into my soul, trying to see all the way to the very essence of my being. She sticks and angry finger right in my face. “Don’t talk to me about biscuits.”
I will never speak of biscuits again.
My usual wit is failing me, but then again, Aren is the one woman who was never impressed with my charm. I hurry to explain before I put my foot in my mouth again. “The henbane—”
“I saw you drink it, same as me,” she says accusingly. In the moonlight, tears streak her reddened cheeks. “And then you said all those awful things—”
“Katharine gave me an antidote,” I blurt out, gripping her hand more tightly.
Aren’s eyes widen in surprise, but she says nothing. She inhales deeply, rubbing her eyes with her free hand. She lets out a wounded huff. The tears spill over, and she swipes angrily at her cheek.
“Why didn’t you tell me before? Because you don’t trust me?”
“No, of course not. It was just—it was too great a risk. Under the influence of the truth serum, without the antidote yourself, you might have unintentionally given it away. And Aren—your reaction had to be real.”
Her demeanor softens. I loosen my grip but don’t release her. Instead, I lower our joined hands between us. “You really thought I was dead?” I whisper.
Her lips tremble, and she yanks her hand away, turning her back on me. “Not just dead,” she murmurs, gripping the balcony railing. “You… You… Harvest Mother, Dietan. I don’t understand you.”
I run a hand down my face, scratching at the stubble on my jaw. “I don’t understand you, either, but I’m trying.” A silent moment passes between us, but she doesn’t turn around. “You thought everything I said to my uncle was true, yet you still saved me.”
With her back still turned, she wraps her arms around her torso, shaking her head like she’s scolding herself.
