I think back to the necklace and bracelets I’d found on the streets of Birmingham. It’s no wonder Haven had ripped her jewelry off and left it behind. I want to do the same—tear off my satin vest, the ivory shirt, and throw my polished shoes into the lake. Everything—all of it—reminds me of Henri, and my skin crawls. I want nothing more to do with him.
Examining my hands, I take in the scars from my human life as a farmer, remembering how hard life was before Greystone Manor and all Lord Henri’s gifts. The markings of hard labor, of spending hours tending to horses and sowing fields of hard ground that hadn’t seen water for weeks, are fainter now but still there. These scars are mine. I own nothing else. Everything else is Henri’s.
Disgust curls in my gut. Despicable.
Haven doesn’t deserve this. Her life couldn’t have been worse than the horrors she’s living through now. I shouldn’t have left her alone with Henri. I need to go back and—
And what? Henri’s older than me by hundreds of years. He’s stronger. He’s smarter. He has the power to create and to destroy. He has followers, and if the run-in with Keagan and Cornelius taught me anything, he has supporters in this, too.
A shadow passes through the trees in front of me, andmy senses focus on the moving darkness. When I spot the blond hair and the familiar pointed profile of my friend, Lysander, I rush forward.
“Lysander!” I call out, hurrying to catch up to him. But to my surprise, he doesn’t slow or even glance my way. I pick up my pace. “Lysander!”
Still, Lysander doesn’t acknowledge me.
“My friend?”
Lysander spins around abruptly and faces me with fierce, cold eyes. “Friend?” He barks a laugh and wraps his fingers around the hilt of the sword at his hip. “You may want to rethink your words.”
I swallow back my reply, stunned.
“Do not act like you don’t know what you’ve done,” he hisses. When I don’t reply, he rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Honestly, how ignorant can you be?”
“I don’t—”
“Someone told Henri about the bet I made with Cornelius,” he answers as he unsheathes his sword and holds up the sharp blade between us. My wide eyes stare back at me from its mirrored face.
“You did it.” Lysander’s lips barely move when he speaks. “You threw me to the lions. I know it.”
My voice becomes lodged in my throat, knowing the truth. I had been the one who told Henri, but not with the intentions of harming Lysander. I’d only answered a question. But still, I should’ve been more aware of what I was saying. I blame myself.
“What kind of friend are you?” he asks.
“Not a very good one,” I confess. “And for that, I’m truly sorry. I never meant to get you in any trouble. I’dfound Keagan and Cornelius bothering Haven out by the lake, and I told Henri—”
“Haven?” Anger flashes across Lysander’s face. “Haven! That worthlessla putain!How did I know she was the reason for this! You and yourinfatuation.”
“Lysander—”
Lysander points the tip of the sword at my throat, and I freeze, hands up in surrender.
“I’ve been removed from my position as head of the guard because of your little human wench!”
“Please, my friend,” I say, hoping he’s not one of Henri’s puppets, too. “It’s not what it seems. Henri—none of this—is what it seems. I’ve been fooled.”
Lysander lowers his weapon, his brows knitting together. “You have one minute to explain yourself,” he says.
Taking a deep breath, I begin carefully. “What I have done is worth your rage, I know. But I swear to you that my intentions were pure. I never meant to harm you in any way. Henri had backed me into a corner. He demanded an answer, and I had to give him one. I could not lie to him. You must believe me.”
Lowering his sword, he replies. “I do.”
With those two words, relief washes over me.
“It isn’t hard to believe that you would give Henri anything he asked for without a second’s thought. Even at the expense of others,” he says, coldness still lingering in his voice. “It’s how he’s trained you, after all.”
What he says stings, but it’s true. All of it, and I know it. I’ve been blind for too long, worshipping a man who isn’t who claims to be.
“Never again,” I pledge, and pull back my shoulders. “Not after tonight.”
