He flashes a knowing smile. “Something like that.”
I nod, and he waits for me to speak, but I’m not sure where to start.
After a moment, he begins instead. “Why did you volunteer?”
I glance down. My fingers tighten around the stem of the rose. “My sister. I promised our mother before she died that I’d protect her. So… I made a deal.” The words taste like smoke and ash. The memory of Kat’s face when she realized what I did still haunts me. The look in her eyes when she said she’d never forgive me.
His gaze softens. “I’m sorry.” And somehow, I know he means it.
I gather my courage. “What happens to the women who come here? The ones who survive the crossing? Does anyone ever win? What happens to the ones who don’t?”
“That’s four questions,” he says, one brow lifting, “and yet they all share the same answer.” He holds my gaze, his voice low and measured. “Whatever happens next… depends on you.”
So it’s up to me?I frown. That can’t be right. Nothing about this has felt like it’s under my control, not since the moment I took Kat’s place.
He reads my doubt in the silence. “My turn,” he says, interrupting the torrent of my thoughts. “What are you most afraid of?”
“I don’t know.” I roll one shoulder uncomfortably.
He raises an eyebrow. “No one is without fear.”
I exhale, a faint smile tugging at my mouth. “Fine. When I was little, I was afraid of the dark—like most kids. Then, after I broke my arm falling out of an apple tree, I was afraid of heights.”
I can tell he’s trying to hide his amusement, and it only makes me more aware that I still haven’t really answered the question.
“I was afraid of leaving my sister at our father’s mercy,” I continue. “But I handled that. Then I was afraid of dying—but I made peace with that, too.”
I hesitate.
“Now…” I meet his gaze. “I don’t know. Truly.”
“An honest answer,” he says. “I can respect that.”
“What can you tell me about the king?”
His eyes change. The light in them dims, shadowed by something deep and old. “Would you like to know how handsome he is?” he asks bluntly, almost spitefully. “How best to seduce him and win his heart?”
Caught off guard, I bark out a humorless laugh. “I’d rather eat dung for the rest of my life than seduce a sadistic bastard who sends monsters to steal brides from their homes and families.”
“That’s… graphic.” His faint grin reappears. Does he hate his own king? “But in all seriousness, I will need you to be more specific.”
“Why did he postpone the ball?”
He doesn’t answer right away. The breeze stirs the ivy at his back, scattering red petals between us. He watches them fall intently, as if they’re spelling out something only he can read.
“Perhaps he’s waiting for something,” he says finally, turning one of the petals over in his hands. The motion is slow and thoughtful, like he’s weighing the secret itself. “Whatever the reason, I suggest you take advantage of it while you can.”
A chill skates up my spine. “How?”
“Prepare,” he says simply, then hesitates, as if he’s said too much. “You’ll need to, if you intend to survive this place.”
My stomach tightens. I want to press further, to make him explain what he means by that, but he’s already smiling again, as if he’s replaced the truth with something easier to swallow.
Then he raises a brow and offers, “It’s been said the king is a fabulous lover.”
I gag dramatically. “How comforting.”
He chuckles. “He doesn’t have a wife. Hence, the Brides Trials.”
