“One more piece of advice?” she whispered as we approached the now ravenous group. “Talk to them, too.” She nodded in the direction of the Engrossian heir and his consort, then shoved her empty canteen into my hands.
I grabbedthe back of the Engrossian prince’s jacket and pulled him along behind me, ignoring his outburst of reluctance and the snickers of my friends.
“Couldn’t wait until I finished my meal, Revered?” He held up the slice of bread he’d managed to grab, chains on his wrists swinging. The firelight glinted off the manacles then caught on the first finger of his left hand, where he wore a thick silver ring with the Engrossian royal sigil. An emerald in the crown glimmered in the light.
“We’re getting water.” I pushed empty canteens into his hands, staring at that ring for a moment. Entranced with it.
“Of course, we are.” But he followed me around the turn in the path, climbing up a sloping, grassy mountainside toward the stream we’d seen earlier. “You do see the irony of this, don’t you, Ophelia?”
“Enlighten me,” I drawled.
Barrett caught up to me, lifting his wrists and shaking them so the heavy links cracked against one another, a sharp clang in the still mountains. “Here I am, the son of your enemy, come tohelpyou vanquish the woman you blame for every unfortunate fate that has befallen you. And you’ve chained me.”
I opened my mouth, but Barrett raised his brows in challenge. I waved a hand to tell him to carry on.
“Not only am I now essentially your prisoner, but I’m being held inchainsfrom myfather’sformer residence. The father Ibarelyknew, who apparently had plans for my future—plans I was not granted a say in. Just as he and my mother had plans foryourfuture, and plans formy dear brother.” His brows scrunched. “Are you seeing the irony here?”
“That you’re not much different than I?” I shrugged, crouching down where the stream flowed thickest. The prince mimicked my movements, uncapping the first canteen.
“Well, there is one stark contrast between us, Revered.”
“I suppose you’re going to enlighten me.”
“Yousaw to it thatIwould receive nothing more from my father.” It almost sounded like a threat.
“What are you saying, Your Royal Highness?” I eyed him across the water, the babbling stream filling the silence.
“Nothing.” He shook his head. “Only reminding you of what you’ve done. I don’t need that man—I never did—but it was not mychoice.”
Spirits, how did he know exactly which strings to pull to unravel my facade? I scratched at the Curse’s mark to steady myself.
“I am sorry for that, Prince. I truly am. But he leftmeno choice.”
“I understand. Still, when I seek to assist you in dealing with my mother, you chain me as they did your beloved Malakai. There is a poetic irony in this circumstance.” He tilted his head, moonlight gilding his sharp cheekbones, sunken shadows deepening beneath them. The purple circles framing his eyes darkened.
Barrett reached for the next bottle, his half-open shirt sliding to the side. And I nearly gasped. Above the wound Santorina had stitched up, long purple scars crossed his chest and abdomen. They were stark against his pale skin, like shadows on snow.
They were the scars of the Engrossians that were set with a secret, saltwater ointment before being allowed to heal.Keeping themfrom healing properly. A mark for their warriors when they came of age.
And his—this warrior prince’s—were the most brutal I’d ever seen, slashing a jagged X across his body.
When I tore my gaze away, he was watching me. “Did they hurt?” I asked.
“More than anything,” he sighed, then straightened. “But it was an honor. Or so I thought at the time. Regardless, I took the pain gladly. Much like yours, I presume.”
His eyes dropped to my midriff, then traced my wrist, where the scars of thelupine daimon’s claws slashed through my skin. But where the prince’s were dark against light, my scars were white lines against tan skin. Utter contrasts, both forged through pain.
I straightened. “These are a sign of my strength. Of what I survived.” I could practically feel the wolf’s warm breath against my body, see the ebony teeth and nails.
“As are mine.”Though not by choice. Barrett’s scars may be the opposite of my own in appearance, but they represented more similarities than I wanted to admit.
Carrying on with the rest of the canteens, trying to appear unfazed, I said, “I want you to tell me everything you know about your mother’s plan.”
“I already told you.”
“Not everything.”
Barrett flashed that crooked smirk again. “Ah, Ophelia, you are clever.” Spirits, when he ran a hand through his hair, he looked so much like Malakai, it was haunting. But that grin held a fervor Malakai lost during his imprisonment.
