Antony has remained silent the entire time, allowing me full control, but given how much he clearly loves Cassia, I’m certain he’ll struggle not to move against me now.
I can’t give him any indication of my true motives.
This game must be played.
Galla barely spares her daughter a glance. She shakes her head at me, a slow movement.
Then she starts laughing, at which her sycophants quickly join in. The lady without stars painted on her face is the last and only one when Galla flashes a look in her direction.
“Oh, Thyra,” Galla says, returning her focus to me. “I thought you were serious.”
I drain every shred of softness from my face, turning the corners of my mouth down again. “Well, clearly you don’t wish to live.”
Galla’s laughter dies. “What?”
“This was a waste of my time.” I step away from her, inclining my head at Antony. “I’m finished here. Your mother doesn’t want my help.”
Galla splutters behind me. “But…”
I turn my back on her and take a deliberate step into Rohan, where he has remained kneeling on the floor, ensuring that the side of my hip knocks his shoulder.
Pulling up sharply, I glare down at him and raise my voice to ensure I’m heard all the way at the back of the hall. “You’re in my way.Move.”
There’s plenty of space in front of me, but I fixate on him.
Rohan’s focus rises to me, the emptiness in his eyes fading so fast, it’s painful to watch.
Without a sound, he rises to his feet, drawing up to his full height, looming over me. He’s as tall as Antony, his chest as broad, and his brown eyes are just as forbidding.
He doesn’t move aside.
“If it’s my death you want, Oracle,” he rumbles, “then make it so.”
I have never looked into the eyes of a fae so caged.
Even on the nights when my father would wake me,telling me we had to run, we always had a way out. Even yesterday, when I decided to stop running, I had a path ahead of me.
I can’t risk revealing even a hint of my true self in front of Galla and her followers, so I keep my voice haughty. “You must be very loyal to your mistress to offer your life.” And then, without a moment’s hesitation, I gesture to Antony. “One of the daggers. Or your axe, if you prefer. Since Galla Vividari has no interest in saving her own life, nor clearly any care for the people of this kingdom if she were to perish, I will save her life for her.”
Antony’s eyes, normally so cold, are flooded with confusion, a bad sign. The trust between us is fragile, and now it must seem to him as if I’m breaking that trust, trying to cause more pain.
I prepare to rebuke him so that I can force his hand, harsh words ready on the tip of my tongue, an accusation that he doesn’t care about his kingdom and that he would leave his people in darkness, fodder for vampyrs.
Just as I draw breath to speak, he reaches for the dark-hilted dagger in the holster at his waist, the weapon the assassin tried to use on me last night.
Then, as if he thinks better of it, he draws one of the iron blades he borrowed from his sister instead.
It has a steel hilt that, even without the protection of the Lethian dress, will be safe to hold.
He offers the iron-bladed dagger to me without a word, but I read the threat in his eyes.
His trust will only stretch so far.
As I take the weapon, Cassia pushes against Antony’s other arm, where he continues to restrain her.
But it’s Galla’s voice I listen for. The outburst, I’m certain, she’ll succumb to. My only uncertainty is whether she’ll accompany it with action.
“You will do no such thing!” Her shout is full of fire, but she doesn’t lurch at me or even scream at her lords to stop me.
