Unlike the last trial, I do not retreat into the carriages. I cross to the circle of silk settees around the roaring bonfire and I have a drink. I paste a smile on my face and do my best to look gracious at all the congratulations flung my way.
I can’t bear to look at Emmett.
I feel the weight of his eyes on me across the roaring fire, but every time I glance back, I see him sayingI do.
He’s been married this whole time. The betrayal stings like a slap across the face, but deep down, I just feel so stupid for thinking I knew him better than this.
You really think my love is that fickle?
No matter the reasons he had for marrying her, he should have told me.
And Lydia kept his secrets for him, which is another blow.
The sun sinks low in the sky, casting the cliffside party in long shadows.
Without the sun, the breeze coming in from the roiling sea is properly bitter, and I am shivering despite my heavy cloak.
“Let’s take this back to the castle!” Bram announces, and everyone shouts in agreement.
Emmett brushes by me on our way to the carriages. “Are you all right?” he asks under his breath.
I push past him without answering. I don’t know what to say.
The hours-long ride back to the castle is a new kind of torture.I tremble with cold as the images of Emmett come back to me in a torrent.
Married.
Emmett is married.
He’s been some other girl’s husband this whole time.
I jump out of my carriage before it has come to a full stop and don’t stop moving until I’m back up in my room, alone, with the thick curtains drawn.
I pull Ferrinus from my cloak and examine it in the light. It’s nearly identical to the drawing we looked at in Lydia’s room. A rough piece of metal, closer to a rock than a blade, has been sharpened to a crude point and bound to a golden hilt. From end to end it’s smaller than my forearm.
I weigh it in my palm, finding comfort in it and praying I don’t have to use it. Then I shove it under my mattress. I’ll give it to Lydia later, per our agreement, but I don’t have the strength to face her right now.
I pull the velvet cord to ring the bell and Eloree appears.
With gentle hands she plaits my hair into a long braid that falls down the center of my back and helps me into a silky nightdress.
“Eloree?” I ask when she’s nearly out the door.
She pauses. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Where are Lady Thalia’s quarters?”
Her brows furrow. “Why would you want to go there? She’s so...” She struggles to find the words.
“Horrible?” I offer.
“Cruel,” Eloree answers.
I know,I don’t say aloud.
“Please, where does she live?”
Eloree sighs. “Her quarters are with the rest of the lords, in the east wing of the castle, past the central courtyard.”
