“It’s beef, Celeste.”
“But youdofeed humans to your creatures. You kill them for food or for sport or to get ahead in some political plot.” My face grows hotwith anger. “How can you do that to innocent people?”
He sets down his silverware and folds his hands under his chin. “You say that as if it should matter to me.”
“What?” I shake my head. “Itshouldmatter. Torbin, I know you. The real you. You have a heart. I’ve seen it in you.”
His jaw tightens and he drops his hands, fingers splayed on the table. “I’m no longer that naïve child you befriended long ago, Celeste. I know now what gives a man power in this world. And it’s not compassion.”
“I disagree,” I say, my voice steady, though the fire beneath my skin is threatening to break loose.
He sighs, his gaze traveling over my features. “Celeste, there is only one person I’m compassionate about. Only one person I want by my side as I rise to power. Only one person I want to share it all with.”
“I don’t care what you want.”
He tilts his head. “You know, the tsar is convinced that your power is the key to ultimate control. Even if you are unwilling to give it to him, he will take it. But you don’t have to be cast aside, Celeste. I will take care of you. I will shelter you, protect you. You could live a long life at my side, as my wife.”
I retreat into my chair, prickles stabbing my skin. “That’s not going to happen, Torbin.”
“The tsar thinks differently, Your Highness.” He takes a sip of his wine. “It was always your father’s wish. After all, it was his idea. It was Axel who suggested the match to Silas. Wouldn’t you want to carry through with your father’s wishes?”
I inhale deeply, a sour feeling in my gut telling me Torbin is trying to reveal the truth to me.
I stand abruptly, the chair’s legs scraping against stone.
Torbin’s dark brows lift in faint amusement, but his grip on his goblet remains lax, unconcerned. The candlelight casts sharp lines across his face, accentuating the shadows beneath his eyes.
“I’m tired of this,” I say. “You’ve alluded to the fact that the tsar is my father, but I want to see him face to face.”
Torbin exhales through his nose, swirling the dark liquid in his cup. The deep red stains the sides like something thicker than wine.
“Why?” he muses. “You don’t trust my word?”
“No,” I say bluntly. “You’ve sworn your loyalty to this man, but the man you describe doesn’t sound like my father. I need proof.”
The words are bold, but my stomach churns. I cannot believe my own father would want to use my power for his own greed.
Torbin taps a slow rhythm against the rim of his goblet, watching me. His eyes gleam in the dim light—calculating, searching for something in me.
Then, with a sigh, he pushes back his chair and rises. “If proof is what you require, then so be it.”
The tension in the room coils tighter.
Torbin strides toward the balcony doors, his dark cloak sweeping behind him. He doesn’t wait for me to follow.
I glance around once—at the untouched food, at the flickering candlelight, at the snowy land beyond the walls. Then I go.
The halls of Dulcamar’s fortress breathe ice. Whatever magic I may have manifested to keep me warm has vanished. Each breath I take is a puff of frost in the air, my lungs burning with the cold. The stone corridors stretch endlessly ahead, silent and stifling. Two of his guards follow closely behind, ensuring I don’t flee.
The deeper we go, the more warmth is swallowed whole, devoured by the ancient rock around us. The walls are rough-hewn, damp to the touch, veins of frost crawling across their surface like silver roots. Torches flicker dimly in iron sconces, their flames too weak to chase the chill.
My boots strike the stone floor with a hollow rhythm, each step echoing through the narrow halls, a metronome of dread. Torbin walks ahead of me, his pace unhurried, his back straight, hands clasped behind him. He doesn’t speak—he doesn’t need to. His confidence tells me this path is one he knows intimately.
My nerves feel grated. I need to get out of this trap. I try calling out again with my mind.
“Dante, please find me.”The words pulse from my mind like awhisper sent on the wind.“Can you hear me?”
Nothing.
