Von Nevus chuckles. “Yousoughtmeout—you literally pounded on my door. No need to be bashful now.”
“It was obviously a mistake.”
I should have listened to Elodie. She tried to warn me.
But that would have required disregarding Rowenna.
You knew I would never agree to this!I silently cry out to her.Pleasetell meyoudidn’t agree to this.
But Ro doesn’t answer, and as the seconds grind past, her silence feels prickling. Almost purposeful. Like she expects me to dowhateverit takes to liberate Tashir and avenge her. Like she wants me to endure this torture because she had to.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
These are Von Nevus’s poisonous lies. The Rowenna I know and love would never want me to suffer. In fact, she’d do everything in her power tokeepme from suffering a similar fate. She was my staunchest protector.
But you’re not dealing with the Rowenna of Tashir anymore, my own small, terrified voice whispers.You’re dealing with the Vanzadorian version of your sister, and whatever she chose to do in this horrific situation, she isn’t here to save you now. You have to save yourself.
“I want to leave,” I say with a deliberate side step.
Von Nevus mirrors me, blocking the way again. “You can’t go now, Little Ro. The fun is just beginning.”
He takes another step toward me, and my heart flies into my throat, pounding, pounding, pounding as I cast about for something, anything I can use.
There.
I snatch a letter opener off the table beside the armchair and aim the tiny blade at Von Nevus. “Let me pass.”
My hand is shaking so hard I almost drop the pen, and Von Nevus chuckles. “Put that down before you hurt yourself.”
He reaches out, like he expects me to just hand over my weapon, but I flex my wrist and the tip of the letter opener grazes the side of his smallest finger. It’s hardly more than a paper cut, but the way his eyes flare, you’d think it was a killing blow.
He watches a single bead of black-red blood slide down his finger; then his eyes flick to mine as he slowly licks the crimson trail. When he finally moves aside to let me pass, my thoughts are so frantic, my sobsso racking, I almost fail to hear his parting words.
Once they register, I wish I hadn’t heard at all.
“You’ll regret this, Little Ro,” Von Nevus promises as I stumble into the hall. “Unlike most Vanzadorians, I’m not quick to forgive—or forget.”
Nineteen
I run.
Down the crowded, twisting halls, past blurs of horrified faces. Several of them are palace guards, but I don’t bother asking for help or reporting Von Nevus. They won’t believe me over one of King Soren’s councilors. They won’t punish him for the same reasons. In fact, they’d probably encourage him.
Men like Garitt Von Nevus are untouchable.
I don’t stop running until I’m locked inside the walls of my chamber, surrounded by impenetrable stone. But even then, I feel too alone and vulnerable. I trip frantically through the sitting room and grapple the protrusions of emerald and quartz until I find the hidden knob and shove through the heavy door.
It isn’t until I stumble into the echoing solarium and see Alaric’s empty desk that I realize how desperately I hoped he’d be here. But of course he isn’t. He’s been avoiding me since our first and only encounter in this space. And it’s not like he’d believe me or care that I’m being harassed.
I break into erratic laughing sobs, fall to my hands and knees, andvomit all over the rug. Just because I no longer believe Alaric killed Rowenna, it hardly makes him safe. That’s how utterly alone I am on this mountaintop. Somehow,he’smy best option. My most tolerable enemy.
Still whimpering, I curl onto my side and stare out the wall of windows, watching the sun paint the snow-dusted mountains purple and pink. But I don’t actually see any of it. Just as I don’t realize I’m compulsively clawing at the tattoo on my wrist until my nails break the skin.
Our clovers were supposed to be a promise. A vow to love and protect one another. But I’ve never felt more lost and terrified and alone. I want to find a sharp piece of shale to scrape off every layer of green-dyed skin.
How am I supposed to believe Rowenna caroused with Queen Tessa, drank bagrava tea, and traded intimate favors with men like Garitt Von Nevus? How am I supposed to accept that our precious bagrava is used for nothing more than idle recreation, and watch the Vanzadorians fawn over Soren, when I know his kindness and generosity are an act—so they’ll happily supply him with memories?
It’s all so wrong.
