The question is for me, and I answer without thinking. “Shadow-born, like our mother.”
Like our motherwas.Like she would still be, if it weren’t for his father slaughtering her in her sleep.
My mother’s death had been the first real blow in the arms race of vengeance that had torn our families apart. An arms racewewill emerge from victorious, with the gods as my witness.
My heart pounds in my ears. My words were laced with malice, and there’s no way Ronan didn’t feel it radiating off of me. The murderous rage boils beneath my skin, and I can’t contain it. No amount of rationalizing will stop me from feeling it. No amount of artificial lust will distract me from it.
He could kill me for it. He could take my life right here and now. He could do it himself, slicing through my heart with his light, burning it right out of my chest. He’s done it before; he did it to our father on some lonely cliff in the desert wasteland.
But Ronan does not raise his hands. He doesn’t reach for his sword. Instead, he looks straight through me, his eyes piercing through whatever foolish defenses I thought I could construct.
And in his eyes?
Only pain.
The moment passes quickly, Ronan excusing himself and pulling away to speak to his Grand Vizier, but I swear I saw it. Not vengeance. Not righteous fury. Not even fear for his own life, the life that he must have known was being threatened.
Justpain. I know it because I feel it too. The raw, aching loss that I live with every day. I know that feeling better than anything.
Adria lets out a breath at my side as he exits the chamber. Cyrus comes over to let us know that Ronan has been called into the city for dinner, so we’ll be dining alone tonight, but that he’ll see us to rooms so we can settle in before it’s served.
I barely hear him.
I want to look at Larus, want to talk to Adria and ask her if she’s alright, but I can’t with Cyrus within earshot, with the eyes of Ronan’s guards and servants on us still.
It’s only once we’re within our chambers that I turn to my sister.
She loosens the armor from her shoulders, and when she turns back to me, shesmiles.
And then she does the unthinkable.
She pulls me into a hug.
“Excellent performance, Sylvie,” she whispers. “He’s captivated by you.”
I pull away, and suddenly, I can see it: it was all an act for her. The fear, the contrition. She was showing him what he wanted to see.
I thought I’d seen a side to Adria I’d never seen before, a vulnerable side that shared many of my own feelings, but none of it was real.
“I thought I’d ruined it all,” I say, stumbling on the words. She shakes her head and holds her finger to her lips. Then she leads me to one of the grand four-poster beds that dominate the small room and takes a seat on the end of it, smoothing a spot for me on the blue velvet bedspread.
“The walls have ears,” she says softly.
They also have gold. Paintings in gold frames, gold sconces for the candles. Gold doorknobs, gold latches on the window, which overlooks the city.
I hate it here.
“I was so angry,” I whisper, taking a seat beside her. “He must have felt it.”
“Of course he did. Exactly as we wanted him to. You’re a challenge to him now. He wants you. You hate him. He won’t be able to stay away from you.”
I do my best not to look shocked. Why didn’t she tell me that this was the plan?
But I know the truth: she didn’t trust me to pull it off. She didn’t believe I could play the part, not as well as she played it.
And maybe she was right.
“Now it’s time to go and do as we discussed. He’s out today; it’s the perfect opportunity.”
