I rise, then tug on the high collar of my dress, suddenly feeling like I’m suffocating. My breathing quickens and my pulse grows rapid. I feel too hot.
Brevan stands, then reaches for me. “Princess? Are you alright?”
“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be here. I can’t watch more innocent people die.” I tear at the dress, pulling on laces and ties frantically. How did I even get this dress on? Why do I even need these stupid fucking dresses in the first place?
“Deep breaths,” Brevan says. “I think we should go. You need to lay down, get some rest.”
“Don’t pretend you care. You do whatever they ask you to. You’re just as bad as the rest of them.” I shove him in the chest and he stumbles a little.
“You act like you’re some noble hero while you blindly follow orders.” I shove him again. “You have more blood on your hands than anyone.”
I go to shove him again, but he catches my wrists. “Does that make you feel better, princess? To yell at me and act like you’re morally superior? We’re the same you, and I. Pieces in someone else’s game.”
I tug my arms away. “I am nothing like you.” I shove him again as tears stream down my cheeks. When I push him again, he captures me in his arms, pulling me to his chest.
I scream and struggle, trying to get free.
“Go ahead. Let it out.” He releases me. “You want to be angry at someone? Be mad at me.” He holds his hands up in front of him.
I narrow my eyes, suspicious.
“Go on.” He makes a fist and punches his opposite hand, then opens them both, palms facing me. “As hard as you can. Get it out. Punch me.”
I clench my teeth and ball my hands into fists. Then I punch his open palm. It hurts my knuckles, but I ignore the pain, doing it again and again. He barely flinches.
“Keep going,” he encourages. “Harder.”
I punch him again.
“I said, harder.”
I continue until there’s nothing left and all the fight is gone. I’m sobbing now, my whole body shaking. Exhausted, I lean my forehead against his chest. He pulls me closer, holding me with one arm while he rubs my back with his other hand.
We stay like that for several minutes until there’s no tears left. I lean back enough to wipe my face and he offers a handkerchief.
“Just in case you come across a damsel in distress?” I ask.
“You’d be amazed by how many damsels I come across.” He gently wipes my tears, then hands it to me so I can blow my nose.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have said those things to you.”
“Never apologize for seeing what’s wrong with the world,” he says.
“How do you do it?” I ask. “How do you live with yourself?”
“I end up in bars and drink too much and make a fool out of myself in front of beautiful women,” he says.
I chuckle. “You’re not like them, are you?”
“I am what I have to be,” he says.
“So am I,” I admit. “I’m just not sure how long I can keep doing it.”
He tilts my chin and his thumb brushes across my cheek. “You’re stronger than you realize.”
Something electric dances over my skin, making my whole body feel alive. I’m overheating now for a completely differentreason, and I swear if I stay too close to this man I’m going to cross a line I won’t recover from. “We should go.” My words come out breathy.
He moves his hand, then clears his throat. Without a word, he reaches for the door and lets us out.
