“Me too,” the king replies. “Take a few days off. Eli will see you for the wound, and I promise that Dominik will pay for this.”
—
Briar gapes atme from the service entrance. I glance down at myself, taking in the bloodstained silk. The bandage scratches against my neck. She steps into the hall and shuts the door. “What the planes happened to you?”
“I need to talk to Kassandra.”
“Not looking like that.”
“I look like thisbecauseof her.”
Briar’s eyes widen, then she swears. “May I?” she asks, tilting her head to my injury. I nod.
For the briefest moment, she lifts the bandage, and her eyes soften and glaze. It was a look my mother used to give me when the teller added another ring of debt to my body.
“What are they doing to us?” she whispers.
My throat thickens with an unnamed emotion.
Us.
All of us.
“She’s in bed.” Briar steps back. “See if you can brave the sleeping beast.”
I nod, and Briar leads me into Kassandra’s quiet, dark chambers. Lighting a candle, Briar passes it to me and exits back into the parlor. I’ve taken only one step toward the bed when Kassandra’s calm voice floats toward me like a breeze.
In the hours since, her bruises have yellowed, the minor cuts closed. Briar has braided her silver hair. Still, Kassandra remains propped up against pillows.
“Avery.” She frowns. “What happened?”
The flame flickers before me, and it’s only then that I see my shaking hand. But I’m not scared. I can’t feel terror in her presence anymore. Just blood-red, unbridled rage.
“You.” I round the bed, reaching her side. “Your brother.”
She clicks her tongue. “Oh, yes.”
“Did you forget that he’s deathly allergic to peaches? Or that you oiled me up to kill him?”
“I’ve never tasted this emotion of yours. It’s like frustration but much more pungent.”
My hand twitches to throw the candle at her. It wouldn’t do anything—she’d douse the flame before it could fall onto her blankets. But just to show her I would, that I am capable.
Her eyes flare in surprise.
“You are furious,” she says.
I do not reply.
“So you want to live?”
I blink, and some of that choking anger stutters in its tracks. “I—what?”
“I couldn’t tell, after your faerie friend died,” she says, “if you wanted to live or not. I just thought you wanted the boy to live.”
My eyes squeeze shut, the flood of memories overwhelming. Jeremee’s moss-green eyes. Benji’s debt-riddled body.
“Please, don’t.” I press back the sting of tears.
