Briar slipped it onto her wrist with shaking fingers. The cheap beads looked absurd against her skin, childish and human and absolutely perfect. For the first time since the bone garden, something in her chest unclenched.
Sinking onto the edge of the bed, she ran her fingers over each bead. Remembering Allegra's concentration as she'd strung them. Remembering her proud declaration that it was "ugly on purpose." Remembering what it felt like to be loved simply, without conditions or contracts or marks of ownership.
The tears came properly then, quiet but cleansing. Not the bitter tears of captivity but something softer. Gratitude. Relief. Hope.
She fell back against the covers, holding her wrist up to study the bracelet in the dim light. Was it real? The cheap plastic caught the fading sunlight through her window, creating tiny rainbows. She touched each bead again, counting them. Twelve. Yes, twelve. The same number Allegra had used.
Real. It was real.
The books could wait. Tomorrow's dinner could wait. Everything could wait while she had this moment, this proof that she hadn't been erased.
She turned onto her side, the bracelet pressed against her cheek. The beads were smooth and familiar against her skin. For once, the bed didn't feel like it was trying to swallow her. The room didn't feel like a pretty cage.
It just felt quiet. Safe.
Her eyes grew heavy as she lay there, not intending to sleep, just to hold onto this feeling a little longer. To memorize the weight of the bracelet. To pretend for just a few more minutes that she was home.
The bracelet's weight on her wrist anchored her to something beyond these walls, beyond his claim, beyond the spreading marks.
She was still Briar. Still Allegra's sister. Still human.
Still herself.
Chapter fourteen
Briar surfaced from sleep slowly, disoriented. The room was wrong. Too cold. Too quiet. No flicker of firelight, no pale moon through the window. Just absolute black that made her blink hard to ensure her eyes were actually open.
Her hand moved instinctively to her wrist, seeking the comfort of plastic beads.
Nothing.
Panic shot through her as she patted the bed around her, searching. The bracelet was gone. But she'd been wearing it, she'd felt it against her cheek as she'd drifted off—
"Looking for something, little thief?"
Her blood turned to ice. Eliam's voice came from somewhere in the darkness, impossible to pinpoint. Close enough to be at her bedside. Far enough to be across the room. Everywhere and nowhere at once.
She sat up too quickly, vertigo making her sway. "My lord?"
"Such formality." His voice moved, now behind her, though she'd heard no footsteps. "Were you having pleasant dreams?"
The darkness was oppressive, making her skin prickle with awareness. How long had he been here? Watching her sleep? The thought made bile rise in her throat.
"The bracelet," she said, hating how her voice shook. "Where—"
"Ah yes. This little thing."
She heard the soft clatter of plastic beads and turned toward the sound, but the darkness gave nothing away. He could be anywhere. Could have been sitting in that chair for hours, studying her while she slept unaware.
"Fascinating what you consider worth keeping," he continued. The beads clicked again, as if he was running them through his fingers. "Cheap plastic. Gaudy colors. Worth perhaps a copper in your human markets."
"It's mine." The words came out before wisdom could stop them.
"Is it?" His voice shifted again, now to her left. "Nothing here is yours, little thief. I thought we'd established that."
She turned, trying to track his movement, but the darkness was absolute. Her other senses strained, the whisper of fabric, the subtle shift of air, the scent of pine and winter that marked his presence. But he moved like shadow through shadow, giving her nothing solid to focus on.
"When did you acquire this treasure?" he asked conversationally. "Because I distinctly remember stripping you of all possessions when you arrived."
