Daegel shakes his head, eyes pleading. “Princess,please. I don’t. It was a mistake in the heat of an argument, don’t make a big deal out of it.”
I don’t believe him. He’s lying. I can’t prove it, but it’s in my gut. I know he’s lying. That’s why he told me to stop with conspiracy theories before the funeral.
Who could have done such a thing, to the man as powerful, loved, and respected as Kitajo Hiromasa?
Only one answer comes to mind.
Caligos.
Daegel uses the moment to pull me closer. He cups my cheeks and angles my face so we’re inches away. “Phoenix, my love. Don’t do this. Don’t create issues where there are none.We’re good. And once I’m the Ezkai General, we’ll be better than ever. Nobody will keep us apart.”
“Your father doesn’t look fond of me,” I say. “If you’re so quick to jump at his every whim, what will happen when he tells you to break up with me, huh?”
I try to pull away, but he doesn’t let me.
“He will do no such thing. Once I’m the General, I’ll make you my Taaslord. I’ll make him see why you’re perfect for me.”
I shake my head.
“I came here to tell you that Vera D’Argent approached me and asked me to be her champion in the trials,” I say.
Daegel tenses at the mention of her name.
His voice is low. “And what did you say?”
“I didn’t say anything. Yet,” I say and step away from him.
This time he lets me.
He looks at me as if I have betrayed him. “Yet? So you’re considering her offer? Entering the trials?”
“King Francis owes me a blood debt. If I’m an Ezkai General, I can collect it,” I say, voice even.
Daegel shakes his head, running his fingers through his tousled hair. “This is not how this is supposed to go.”
“I know.” My words are so quiet I’m not sure he hears me.
When he doesn’t say anything, I leave him standing in the middle of the training square. His gaze lingers on me until the door closes behind my back.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
PHOENIX
I wander the streets of Jaakii for the longest time. Only when the sun starts to set, shrouding the streets in misty grey, do I find a hole-in-the-wall bar that’s so dark I can barely see the floor.
And thank the gods for that, because from the way it sticks to the soles of my leather boots, I don’t even want to think what shit it’s covered in.
What do normal people do when they have a fight with their boyfriend?
Go vent to their best friend. Or a sister. A brother. If lucky, a mom.
“Bah,” I huff to myself as I take an empty seat at the dim bar.
For me, the bar will have to suffice.
The bar counter is just as sticky as the floor. Thank fuck for my leather gloves.
“Whiskey. Neat. Make it a double,” I say to the bartender.
