To be honest, I’m…scared.
Rian was easy to hate when he was a kingdom away. Things couldn’t have been clearer: he sold me out to my father in exchange for a crown. But his words still echo in my ears.
It was best for you to be where you belonged.
I can’t help but wonder, in the secrecy of my own mind, if he understands the world—understands me—better than almost anyone.
But then again, even if it’s true, does it matter? There is no world in which I would admit to Rian Valvere that he was right aboutanything.
I line up the pebbles and concentrate again, sparking fey to lift one a few inches—and the guard knocks again.
The pebble falls.
“What?” I growl, harsher than I intended.
The door opens, and it isn’t the guard this time.
Basten raises his eyebrows, keeping his distance in the doorway. “I wanted to let you know that Rian agreed to order his forces to surrender. We’re going to give the signal at first light tomorrow.”
I sit straighter, pushing my hair back. “That’s wonderful news.”
Basten keeps his hand on the doorknob. “We’ll have to see how it plays out. Hopefully, the sentinels will turn over their weapons and vacate the city peacefully.”
“But you suspect they won’t?”
“Let’s just say we need to be ready for anything.” His eyes fall to the untouched tray of brown bread and butter at the foot of the bed, and he sighs. “You need to eat, Sabine.”
Eat.
The fae hunger in me licks up with frenzied, sudden need. My eyes go to Basten’s neck as my mouth waters.
Drink drink drink.
I quickly lower my eyes and lift a shoulder. “I’m fine.”
His hand twists on the doorknob, as though he can’t make up his mind between entering or exiting. “You’re weak. Let me help you.”
DRINK DRINK DRINK.
The thirst for his blood—his breath, his life, his everything—roars so violently between my ears that I drop the pebbles, suddenly breathless.
“No,” I practically growl. “Leave me alone.”
I see the sting of rejection in his eyes, but I don’t have the strength to tell him the truth: that I’m afraid the next time I drink from him, I won’t be able to stop.
He’ll insist. It will turn into an argument, until we’re both at each other’s throats.
I sigh. “Sorry—I just…I’m trying to concentrate.”
“Sure, wildcat.” He doesn’t meet my eyes as he leaves.
As soon as he’s gone, I slump forward, rubbing my temples. I hate this—the distance between us. All I want is for it to be like it was before, the two of us against any challenge.
“Lady Sabine.”
I jump a mile, hand flying to my chest to keep my lungs from exploding.
Woudix leans on the windowsill, toying with the fae needle in one gloved hand, with Hawk curled at his feet.
