“I would.”
Pulling off my heavy cloak, I toss it to the side. I unweave my frizzy braid, untangling the long strands. Once I feel the relief on my scalp, I approach Wrath. He pours wine into a slightly dented tin cup and hands it to me. I take a long swig from it, trying not to let the displeasure show on my face. I now understand what Valentin meant when he said the wine he had while traveling tasted like piss. I am in no position to complain, though.
Wrath reaches out, taking my mother’s pendant between his fingers. “Where did you get this?” he asks, running his thumb over the left wing on the crest. Wrath looms over me as we stand beside one another. I’m a bit taller than the average woman, but Wrath is still a head higher.
“It was my mother’s,” I reply pensively. A cold feeling spreads through my chest. The memory of her loss will forever haunt me.
“Your mother was House Izydor?”
I don’t reply.
The itch of magic slinks at the back of my throat, snaking its way into me. “No—!” I protest, clenching my jaw together as I step back.
“No?”
“You will not use your magic to force me to speak,” I demand. No matter what I try, I slowly succumb to the magic as I try to fight against it. I grit my teeth, press my lips together, and bite my tongue, but it’s useless. “My mother is Isla Izydor,” I say against my will, my chest heaving for breath.
“Your mother was the last of her line.” Wrath’s brows draw together. Intensity radiates off of him like a storm on the verge of breaking, striking fear into me.
I fight against it, shaking my head as I grip the table for stability. My lungs gasp for air that doesn’t come. “I was born out of wedlock,” I say, the magic wrestling my answer from me.
My father lost his first wife, Queen Thalia Valantis, to an infection and never remarried. He met in secret for years with Queen Isla Izydor of Rykaris, resulting in my birth. My veins carry royal blood from two great houses, but I am an illegitimate heir born outside of a union.
Valentin is my half-brother, but I love him just the same. My father forced me to swear an oath of secrecy. He did his best to make me appear as his second daughter, despite me looking nothing like Thalia, who had chestnut brown hair the same shade as Valentin’s. We did share our blue eyes, but my pale blonde hair made me stick out compared to the portraits in the halls of House Valantis.
“This means?—”
I cut him off. “Enough!” Irritation lines my voice. “You cannot rip my secrets from me against my will.”
“House Izydor is an Elvarran line.” Wrath ignores me, his face exasperatingly placid.
“Are you suggesting I’m half-Elvarran?” I ask impulsively, despite not wanting to know the answer.
The question gnaws at the edges of my thoughts, eating into one of the things I desire the most. I miss my mother every day. I cling to what little memories I have of her. If Wrath finds out how much I wish to know more about her, he will use it as leverage against me.
“You are.”
“I don’t remember my mother having pointed ears,” I counter, recalling her features from memory.
“Your memory deceives you.” He studies my face, scanning each feature as he tries to spot similarities to Isla.
“It doesn’t change anything,” I lie.
Wrath stole one of my deepest and most guarded secrets. I’m caught fast in his web, every thread pulled taut to remind me who holds the power. I am no person—just prey dressed in silk, struggling against the strands that tighten the more I resist. The familiar sting of helplessness rushes through me, burning beneath my skin.
“This changes everything,” he counters.
“You do not get to dictate that.” I cling to the fading remnants of my freedom.
“The magic does.”
“I knew there were ulterior motives when you demanded I come with you.” I slam my empty cup down on the table.
Turning, I move to walk away. Wrath catches my wrist in his grip, stopping me. A burst of magic shoots through my arm, igniting every nerve on my skin as it attunes to his will.It sends chills down my spine as the world closes in around us.
“Raelys.”
“I will never trust you,” I snap.
