His words echo through my mind.Where is your sister?
The question takes me by surprise, making my dagger hilt tremble in my fingers. Aspen’s warm, wine-scented breath on my face brings me back to myself, reminding me of his proximity. As my eyes adjust to the moonlit dark, his shadowy features take shape in front of me. I press the blade to his throat, letting its edge break the skin. “Get. Off. Me.”
He jolts back, wincing from the searing iron as I spring from the bed, keeping the dagger between us as I back up a few paces. It only deters Aspen a moment. He bounds toward me, and I retreat until I find my back pressed against a wall. Nothing but my dagger separates us as he closes the distance, the tip of my blade pressed to his sternum. With one thrust, I could have it buried in his chest.
Aspen doesn’t seem to care. “Where is your sister?” he repeats.
I push his chest with my free hand, trying to force him back. It does nothing but shift the cloth of his shirt. “Why are you asking me? She was with you, you fool. Don’t act like I didn’t leave her in your study.”
His chest heaves with rage. “She isn’t there anymore. Where did she go?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What, did she disappear into thin air?”
“No,” he growls. “I left for only a few minutes. When I returned, she was gone.”
“Gone? How is that—” My eyes widen, and I thrust the dagger tip forward. He winces and springs back a few inches. This time I’m the one closing the distance, forcing his retreat as anger heats my blood. My voice comes out with a snarl that could almost match his. “What did you do to her?”
“What didIdo? Me?” His fingers lock around my wrist before I can prick him with my blade again. “I did nothing.”
“Nothing?” I slam his chest again with my free hand. “Why else would she run away at the first chance? You did something to her. What did you do?”
“So, you admit she ran away.”
My mouth hangs open. I struggle to free myself from his grip, but his fingers don’t budge, suspending my wrist and dagger in midair. “Running away is the only logical conclusion based on what you’ve told me,” I say through my teeth as I continue to struggle in vain.
“Where did she go?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying. You’re in on it too. What are you planning? Aside from trying to kill me with this pathetic blade?” He turns my wrist, forcing my fingers to open. The dagger clatters to the floor, and he kicks it away.
I hold my ground, crossing my arms over my chest. “If I was trying to kill you, I would have slashed my blade through your throat when I had the chance. Besides, if one of us is lying, it’s you.”
He fixes me with a seething glare. “I can’t lie.”
“Then I suppose we’re at an impasse, because I’m not lying either. What will you do next? Execute me for treason?”
Aspen holds me with a glower for what feels like an eternity. Finally, his breathing begins to steady, the heaving of his chest subsiding. He takes a step away but doesn’t tear his eyes from mine. With a snap of his fingers, a warm light illuminates above the sconces in my room, bringing him into clear view. I try not to wonder at how the light could have responded to him like that, and instead take in his appearance. His hair is disheveled, and a thin, red line runs across his throat. It looks like dried blood, the superficial wound I gave him likely already healed beneath it. “You don’t know where your sister is?”
“No. Like I said, last time I saw her, she was with you.”
“She was there,” he says, voice still much like a growl. “We spoke for a time until she requested more wine. I ordered some to be brought up, but the idiot servant brought honey pyrus wine. You, of all people, should know why that could have been disastrous. Still, she seemed as content as ever when I left to exchange it. When I returned, she was gone.”
Wine. A servant. Could it be? What if I’d gotten our earlier conversation wrong? What if Amelie wasn’t in love with Aspen after all? Would she do something so foolish as to run away with a handsome servant? Then again, perhaps it was a matter of Aspen catching a lingering glance between the two, igniting his jealousy. This entire confrontation could be a ruse to cover something far more devious. “Who brought the wine? Was it the same servant you used during your earlier visits with Amelie?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Answer the question.”
He runs his hands through the blue-black hair between his antlers. “I don’t know. I have a lot of servants.”
I squint at him, trying to decipher if there’s deception beneath his words. I proceed with caution. “Did something else happen? When the servant brought wine? Did you…see something you didn’t like?”
He tips his head back. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Footsteps sound in the hall outside my room. Aspen whirls around as several guards march in. One approaches Aspen. “Your Majesty,” she says as she gives him a hurried bow, “someone was seen running toward the coral caves.”
“When?” barks Aspen.
