I don’t answer.
Because I honestly don’t know.
Twenty-Seven
I wait until the sun is shining high in the sky before knocking on Alaric’s chamber door the following morning. After such an eventful night on the mountaintop, I figured a good night’s rest would do us both well.Plus I needed more time than I cared to admit to prepare for his razor-sharp looks and cutting remarks.
Alaric won’t be happy to see me. Which is fine. I don’t give a fig what he thinks. I do, however, need him to open up and trust me, which means I need to extend another olive branch. A much larger olive branch.
One heavy enough to crush me if things go awry.
“Alaric?” I call out, trying to ignore the worms of anxiety writhing in my stomach. If this plan was a grave mistake, surely Rowenna would intervene?
Like she intervened with Von Nevus?the new needling voice inside me argues.
Rowenna’s methods with Von Nevus were undoubtedly flawed, but her intentions were noble. She was willing to doanythingto take Soren down, and she expected me to do the same. Her sky-high expectations were nothing new. My sister always pushed herself to be the bravest, boldest, shrewdest version of herself, and she expected the restof us to follow suit. She knew how to draw out potential we couldn’t see in ourselves. It’s one of the things I admired most about her, and I know she’s pleased with me now, for uncovering the secret of the gemstones and developing a plan.Herplan.
Why give her all the credit?the meddlesome voice persists.Not every brilliant idea is Rowenna’s.
“Alaric?” I knock again. “Are you in there?”
At last, the door creaks opens, and Alaric fills the frame. He looks even more exhausted and exposed than he did last night on the mountain. Surprisingly, this has less to do with his chest, which is, of course, bare, and his low-slung pants, which fall scandalously below his hip bones, and more to do with the beaten-down look on his face. I have the strangest urge to reach out and comfort him—until he opens his mouth.
“What now?” He drags a gloved hand through his messy hair. “You’ve decided to blackmail me, haven’t you?”
My hackles instantly rise. “Why would you think that?”
“What else could you possibly want?”
“I don’twantanything.”
“Then why are you here?”
I pull a deep breath in through my nose and exhale slowly. “I wanted to make sure you were okay after last night… And to thank you for looking out for my safety, despite my belligerence.”
His scowl doesn’t budge. “Is that all?”
Is that all?I almost shout back.I’m throwing myself at your feet, bridging ninety percent of the gap between us. Would it kill you to come ten percent?
“No, actually, that’s not all,” I say through a rictus smile. “May I come in?” I try to step forward, but Alaric braces his hands against the doorframe.
“Whatever you have to say, you can say it out here.”
“What if it isn’t something I want to say but rather show you?” I poke my finger into his chest.
When he jerks back with surprise, I push my way inside.
Alaric’s rooms are a mirror image of my own. A four-poster bed stands to the right of the door, and his bathing chamber branches off to the left. A sizeable wardrobe, flanked by dressing tables, dominates the space between, and a few armchairs are arranged around a cold hearth. But where my room radiates color and warmth from the gemstone walls, Alaric’s space is cold and gray. At first I think it’s because his walls are made of harsher, more masculine stones like onyx and obsidian. But as I venture deeper, I realize it’s because therearen’tany stones set into his walls. Not anymore. Every gemstone has been cleaved away, leaving deep gouges and unsightly scars in the bedrock.
A shiver moves through me as I picture Alaric furiously swinging a pickax, taking out his rage and frustration on the walls since he can’t unleash them on his father.
“You can’t just barge into my rooms!” He stomps after me.
“Get dressed. I have something to show you in the solarium.”
Alaric stands there gawping like I hoped he would, giving me the opportunity to make my way to his chest of drawers. Unlike young Alaric, who had to steal the apricot gemstone I saw in his memory, grown Alaric rightfully has the power to move the earth, which means he must have unfettered access to the stones. His gaudy bejeweled jackets and chains seem like the most logical place to keep them—something he wears every day, hidden in plain sight.
“I can’t believe you don’t know how to dress yourself without a valet,” I mutter under my breath as I yank open the drawers. My eyes quickly scan his collection of extravagant jackets for inlaid jewels the color of blood, flesh, or bone. Then I trail my fingers across the top of the dresser, assessing dozens of decorative chains that range in size and splendor, from simple links of silver to diamond-studded strands of braided gold.
