“It’s nice to finally meet you, Dessin,” I say.
Dessin breaks our long streak of eye contact to look down at our hands, and with a single blink, his stare snaps back up to mine.
“Miss Ambrose, we do not acknowledge his request to be called Dessin. If he would like to be called a name, he will tell us the name this body was born with,” Suseas says sternly.
“My apologies. I didn’t realize referring to him as a number was working so well for you,” I retort.
Dessin tilts his head, a curious glint in his eyes.
“Well, old bird, it seems your supervision here is no longer necessary,”Dessinrefers to Suseas in a calm and sarcastic manner.
Suseas releases an appalled laugh.“Excuse me?”
“Get. Out.” He leans forward in his chair. If he’s upset, his expression doesn’t show it.
“This is atrialintroduction to Miss Ambrose,” Suseas says. “I will not leave.”
“I truly hate to dangle this over your head—but I’m sure you recall what happened to Sern when she refused to leave after I asked nicely.”
Sern. I didn’t think he’d admit to that situation so candidly.
Suseas lifts her chin in defiance.
“And there is the added benefit that if you take your leave now, you’ll discover what extracurricular activities Nathanial partakes in when you’re away.”
That was the nail in the coffin. Shoulders hunched, she doesn’t budge, but her eyes dart around in uncertainty. Dessin watches her with a carnival of amusement in his mind.
“Suseas? I am perfectly capable of taking over if you have an emergency,” I offer. I’m hoping to talk to him without Suseas breathing down my neck. It seems Dessin feels the same.
“Thank you. Please keep that between us,” is all Suseas says before bolting out of the room.
There is a hum of silence before the door clicks shut, and under that veil of silence, my nerves tingle under my skin like lumps of effervescent salts. Currants of adrenaline buzzing in my ears, moistening my palms, and cramping my digestive organs.
We’realone.
16. Pawn to Pawn
I’ve thought about this moment,what he would be like, how our conversation would flow. I’ve thought about it every time I set foot into the asylum. In subtle waves of a daydream, in glimpses down the hall. And now here he is.
I watch the door. Knowing that his eyes are glued to me makes it hard to drag myself back to reality. His wrists twist under the shackles, causing the chains to clink together. My head pivots slowly back to where he sits.
“How did you know my firstname?” I ask. Not wasting a second to know this man cover to cover.
He blinks slowly, almost anticipating that would be my first question.
“Youlooklike a Skylenna,” he says plainly.
“That’s the answer you’re going to go with?”Bold. Too bold. Reel it in.
“Why did you call me Dessin, even though your instructor warned you against it?” I catch myself flinching at the deepness of his voice. It sinks in my gut and twists around my bones.
“Because youlooklike a Dessin.”
He looks me over, exhaling through his nose.“How old are you?”My age?He really wants to know my age?
“This is a simple question coming from a man who supposedly knowseverything,” I say, unimpressed.
“Humor me.”
