“She was disguised, somehow?”
“It seems so.”
“That explains her strange scent, I suppose.”
Tarron nodded, feeling like an even bigger fool than he had in the dungeon. He had noticed that strange scent, too—before they’d even left Middlemage. And he had suspected her that first night she arrived, when she’d acted so strangely in the gardens. She had seen shadows then, too—he would have staked his life and reputation on it. She had obviously watched them attacking his brother. He hadaskedher about it, even.
But she hadn’t told him the truth, and he’d let it go, and now…
“So what now?” Deven asked.
“She will stand trial alongside the Shadow Court spies we apprehended.”
“And what are we charging her with, precisely? Was she spying alongside them, you think?”
“No, but—“
“She controls shadows, but did she use them against us?”
“I don’t know for sure. But even if she hasn’t, it doesn’t mean shewouldn’thave, if we hadn’t caught her.”
“She didn’t do this to me,” said Deven, holding up a hand that shook slightly in spite of his obvious efforts to stop it from doing so. “You realize this, right? This curse was laid long before she ever arrived.”
“We don’t know that her being here didn’t help aggravate it.”
“We don’t? I thought you two were growing quite close…do you really believe she would have purposely attacked me? Or you?”
No.
The word came instantly, empathetically to mind.
But that was his heart speaking. And as a general rule, he didn’t listen to his heart. He listened to his brain. Or he always had before,anyway— until all of this arranged marriage nonsense.
He had always been the more logical one, compared to Deven. And perhaps it was only because he didn’t want to think about that raw pain that had torn through his heart earlier, but he doubled down on that logical side of himself now. “She might not have done it on purpose,” he said, “But those Shadow Court members obviously intended to use her, and she went to them this afternoon without consulting me first. It was reckless at best.”
“Perhaps.”
Nonchalant as always.
It only made Tarron angrier.
“I wonder why she lied?” Deven mused, leaning closer to the mirror and adjusting his crown.
“Does it matter?”
“It does if you intend to pass judgment over her. I am not in the business of baseless executions, and neither are you. Also: I know you care about the reason. It’s written all over your face.”
Tarron didn’t reply right away. He wanted to argue, but he couldn’t—because hedidcare. He didn’t want to. He hadn’tintendedto. It would have been so, so much easier if he had stuck to his original plan of not letting his feelings get in the way of his obligations.
“Do you think she trusts you enough to give you an honest confession at thistrialyou’re planning?” Deven asked.
The prince frowned—because he doubted it.
And now that one doubt had gained a foothold in his thoughts, a flood of others soon followed it.
He could have done better, perhaps. Not left her in the dark about so many things. But he’d wanted to think of her only as weak and in the way, and he had done his best to push her away for most of the days they’d spent together—so that he wouldn’t risk those damnfeelingsthat had ended up complicating everything anyway.
So no, she likely didn’ttrusthim.
