It feels like a dark cloud falls around me when I realize that that’s probably going to be the last place I ever see.
We’re in the lower levels and we pass the servants’ quarters before turning into a large open room. A bucket of wooden swords sits in a corner. A target with a few knives stuck in it occupies another corner.
At least there aren’t any ladders or logs.
Brevan closes the door behind us, then turns to face me. “How many times did you use that tunnel in your bathroom?”
My face heats. “I didn’t know there was a tunnel there.”
“You’re lying.” He moves closer to me. “You see, I thought I couldn’t sense when you lie. I can’t feel your intentions at all. You’re the only person I’m closed off from. But you have a tell. You bite down on the inside of your cheek when you lie. Did you know that?”
My lips part. Is that true? “I don’t do that.”
“You do.”
“I’m not doing it now.” I put my hands on my hips.
“You’re not lying right now,” he says.
“How did you even notice that?” It would have to be such a subtle movement since I wasn’t even aware I was doing it.
“It’s a little flicker of motion on one side of your lips.”
“You must spend a lot of time staring at my lips,” I accuse.
“I do.”
My face heats for an entirely different reason now.
“So what exactly did I lie about?” I ask, crossing my arms. It’s a desperate attempt to change the subject of the conversation back to the lying. Letting myself linger on the fact that he has been staring at my lips is too much.
“You lied to Caiden about the tunnel,” he says. “It was quite convincing. Fooled him, but your tell got you.”
I resist the urge to let out a breath of relief. There are far worse things he could have caught. I must not bite my cheek with each lie.
“Besides, how else did you sneak out that night I found you at the tavern? There are some terrible guards in the Night Legion, but none bad enough to miss a woman leaving her room.”
That’s how he knows. He’s guessing about me having a tell. “I was worried about Katherine.”
“She was probably out meeting with her contact,” he says.
“I didn’t know that then,” I say, careful to keep my jaw in place.
“I know.”
“She didn’t deserve what happened, you know. She didn’t deserve that pain.”
“The only penalty for treason is death,” he says. “She would have died one way or another.”
“But the torture.”
“She was a spy, Sabina,” he says.
I flinch. It’s the first time he’s ever used my name.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” he corrects.
“No, no, it’s fine. I like how my name sounds when you say it.” What the fuck is wrong with me?
