How in the fuck does she know my name?
Turmoil sits on my tongue like a spoonful of salt. There’s no spitting it out or trying to save myself from the sharp taste. Neither can I swallow the bitter mouthful or drown it in the flavor of something else. All I can do is suffer through the briny burn as spans of horrifying scenarios hammer at my mind as I try to make sense of what’s going on right now.
This Beva, whoever she is, recognizes me somehow. She knows my name. She wants to take me with her because she’s responsible for me on some level. Her entire demeanor reminds me of a guard, but that… Shock swarms me as something clicks into place.
Princess?
Verus’s voice whispers in my mind, and I see a flash of the horrified look on his face before his voice grows haunted.
You’re dead.
Rage roils in my gut as I look from Beva to the Scorpions.
Fuck the Kings, could it really be true? Am I really a fucking princess? Did someone plot to get rid of me and then…take my place?
A storm grows in my chest as astonishment and anger flash through me, and the thunder of my pulse rumbles in my ears.
Is that what all of this is about? Some other fae is using my name and wearing my face, and no one has been the wiser…or have they?
I swallow down a hysterical laugh that tries to bubble up my throat. Of all the possibilities that have plagued me since Verus used his thura to shove a dagger into his own throat, I never considered this. Maybe no one ever looked for me because they didn’t know I’d been taken. If that’s true, then who’s been pretending to be me all this time?
Immediately, I want to take Beva and her little contingent hostage. I want to bar the doors to this tavern and paint it in blood until everyone explains what in the fucked-up realms is going on here. I breathe evenly through my rage and try to think past the haze of violence that sings to me like a siren, encouraging me to make everyone in this room pay for all the ways I’ve been wronged.
I know I can’t.
What happened with Verus taught me a valuable lesson in understanding that force isn’t always the best option, but it’s incredibly difficult to keep my head on straight and my fury hidden under a mask of insouciance and mild annoyance. I don’t need force when the answer is staring me in the face, tapping her foot impatiently as she waits for me to fall in line at her command. There’s a small part of me that thinks it’s a bad idea to follow this Beva wherever it is she wants to lead, but that’s drowned out by the overwhelming reality thatthisis an opportunity. One that probably won’t present itself again, which means I can’t pass it up. Especially not when we’ve been hunting for answers or some kind of sign that we’re on the right track for so long.
This sign couldn’t be any brighter if it were the sun itself.
Whatever this is, we’re not going to get a second chance at it. If I fuck it up, I could lose all hope of ever figuring all of this out. Right now they think I’m someone else, someone they’re willing to escort right to the heart of everything I want to know. Their secrets and the accompanying answers are carefully hidden somewhere, and if I’m smart about this, I can get these three to show me where. I was hoping for one clue, one lead that pointed us in the right direction. It seems destiny had other plans because it just hand delivered a whole heap of possibility right in our laps. Now I just need to figure out how to keep myself in check while this unfolds.
As though he can sense my inner struggle, Riall leans closer. “Don’t worry, Beasty,” he assures me as he pointedly runs two fingers down the bond marks on his throat. They’re hidden behind the smooth skin of his glamour, but I know they’re there. “No hard feelings if you can’t stay. Maybe we’ll run into each other again. Stranger things have happened.”
A flash of them escaping through the window in Dorsin’s office and leaving me behind accosts me. It’s quickly replaced by the moment fate once again dropped them at my feet when they stepped out of the carriage to attend the Bidding. I’m blitzed by everything we’ve been through and overcome to get to where we are right now, and I know, no matter what, that they have my back.
I’m not alone.
I can do this.
I can pretend to be whoever these fae think I am, or spring whatever trap is lying in wait. The Scorpions will come for me, and together we’ll find the truth and cut down anyone or anything that stands in our way.
“I know I’ll look forward to running into you again,” Riall finishes, his cocksure smirk coaxing out a small grin of my own.
Beva snorts and mumbles something under her breath about Riall’s flirting, but I’m too busy pulling strength and support from the encouragement blazing in the Scorpions’ eyes. I fortify my defenses and my resolve through their unwavering trust and conviction. I blow out a deep anxious breath, but it sounds more like a disgruntled huff as I stand up, finally giving in to Beva’s command that it’s time to go.
Without a word, I grab my cloak from the pile and pull it on.
“Where’d you get this shit?” Beva asks as she eyes the black wool and fur.
“Mind your fucking tone,” I snap at her before I can stop myself.
Shit. This fae makes it hard to not want to deck her.
I know I need to play this right,bewhoever it is they think I am, but I’m not going to tolerate anyone shitting on my Scorpions for any reason. I love my cloak. I was in awe when Tarek draped it over my shoulders. Beva can keep her unwelcome thoughts to herself, before I rethink following her and decide to gut her instead.
Beva, surprisingly, acts cowed by my rebuke. I pull the hood over my head, grateful for the shadow it now drapes over my face and the way it smothers the small, relieved sigh I let loose. Somehow my snapped warning hasn’t made them suspicious. It makes me wonder about the person they think I am and how she typically interacts with these guards. It seems my irritation isn’t anything new. Then again, if they’re as demeaning to her as this Beva has been to me, a person is bound to snap eventually.
I try to calm my frustration and apprehension by running my palms over the daggers sheathed at my waist. I wish I had put armor on and had my entire arsenal strapped to me. I never anticipated something like this happening though, and I hate that my black tunic and leathers suddenly seem inadequate for the protection I might need tonight. I have several daggers strapped to my waist and thighs, but I feel alarmingly naked and vulnerable. I have no choice but to make do though. At least all of the weapons I do have are now hidden under my cloak. It gives the illusion of security even if it’s not the case. In the event that I do need to make a move, they won’t see it coming, and that helps to compose and settle me somewhat.
