Alaric’s eyes slit open. “I had nothing to do with Rowenna’s death.”
“Then why haven’t you mentioned her, even once?”
“Why would I?”
“Because you were married to her! Because she was my sister and I look just like her!” I gesture to myself. “Any semiobservant person with half a conscience would have noticed I’m the spitting image of her on the day you wed. It should have dredged up memories. Comparisons.Something.But you didn’t even notice.”
Alaric leans up on one elbow and looks me over briefly. “I supposeyou do look like her,” he says with an offhanded shrug.
“That’s really all you have to say?”
He groans and takes another long pull from his flask. “Make it stop.”
“Oh, I’m just getting started.” I lean forward, finally on the offensive. “I know you didn’t choose to marry Rowenna, but she was a person.Myperson. With hopes, dreams, and plans for the future. You were wed for nearly a year, and all you have to say is that yousuppose I look like her?”
“What more do you want me to say? That you’re prettier? Because you are.”
“Unbelievable!” I laugh bitterly. “And insulting! I couldn’t care less whoyoudeem prettier.”
Not to mention it isn’t true. There’s a reason every eye was drawn to Ro whenever we entered a room. I am pleasing to look at, butshewas impossible to look away from. And if Alaric can’t see that, there’s little point arguing with him.
How did Ro endure being married to him for an entire year? I want to strangle him after less than five minutes. Was she forced to suffer and endureotherthings too?
“Did you share my sister’s bed?” I suddenly blurt before he can lie back down.
I don’t actually want to know the answer, but Ihaveto know.I needto know just how much she was subjected to.
“Gods, no.” Alaric’s face contorts with horror. “At least…I hope not.”
“What do you mean youhope not? Do you bed so many girls, you can’t tell one from the next? Is that what your guards were referring to when they spoke of yourexperience?”
“Is that jealousy I detect?” Alaric arches a taunting brow while taking another swig from his flask.
“Or perhaps the problem is you drink too much to remember anything. Give me that.” I snatch the flask.
He flops back down without trying to reclaim it. “You’d drink thismuch, too, if you were me.”
“Yes, it must besodifficult, being the beloved heir to a prosperous kingdom,” I snap. “Never needing to worry about attacks or invasion, since you can literally crush your enemies with power you amplify by stealing from another kingdom.”
Alaric says nothing. Because he has no defense. But I have plenty more to say.
“You wouldn’t be half as strong without our bagrava. You wouldn’t be able to throw a stone across this tent.”
“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbles wearily, “but whatever it is, I’m sure you’re right.” He sounds like an exhausted parent reasoning with a toddler. He even pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to sleep now. I have a massive headache.”
Before I think about what I’m doing, I lean over and pry his hand away from his face, momentarily forgetting my burns. “No one is sleeping until you tell me what really happened to my sister,” I growl through the pain.”
Alaric jolts free and clutches his arm against his chest as if my touch somehow burned him through his sleeve. “Don’t ever put your hands on me.”
“Then don’t ignore me!”
“Enough! You’re wasting your time with all of your conspiracy theories and vengeful bravado.”
“Why? Because you plan to sabotage my efforts?”
“There’s no need. You won’t find anything that connects me, or anyone else in my country, to Rowenna’s death.”
I fold my arms. “How can you be so sure?”
