“It’s cared for now!” He leaned over her, his eyes bright with passion. “It’s allowed to be wild instead of combed and brushed and stuffed into a mould of beauty it was never meant to inhabit!”
His words struck the breath from her lungs and she pressed her back against the headboard. “My father preferred it that way,” she whispered.
“Who bloody cares how your father preferred it? It’s not how it was meant to be.”
“Who are you to tell me how it was meant to be? It doesn’t belong to you.”
Asherton braced his arm on the headboard beside her head. “It doesn’t belong to anyone. It’s wild. I just wanted to love it, tend it, make sure it was safe.”
Magdala lost herself in his expression. The world shrank around her, and she was so ashamed of herself, she wanted to run out the door, through the forest, all the way to the sea. Ducking under his arm, she slid off the bed and retreated across the room.
Asherton sat on the edge of the mattress and spread his hands. “So all along, you meant to humiliate me?”
She started to shake her head, but changed to a nod. “Yes,” she mouthed. Her voice failed her.
“Because of Huxley?”
Again, she could only nod.
“Why not just kill me?”
“I never wanted to kill you,” she said quickly. “I just wanted the house. And he promised me the house.”
“And last night?” His eyes were daggers.
“I meant everything I said last night,” she pleaded. “You’re not who they said you would be. And I don’t want to humiliate you now …”
“Then why do this?”
“Because I’m scared! You’re not ready to be king! The people aren’t ready for you to be king! I’m afraid of what will happen to you at the coronation, and I want you to abdicate so we can just stay here, where it’s safe.”
Almost imperceptibly, Asherton’s face softened, so it stung worse when he said, “I don’t know if I trust you anymore, Magdala.”
“I did it to protect you. I swear I did. I swear it, please, Asherton …” She walked toward him, her hands out, but he shook his head and his expression clouded.
“I think you need to go home,” he said.
“No!” Magdala reached for him, but he stood and strode toward the fire, ruffling the hair at the back of his head with his hand.
“You lied to me.”
“I know I did, but you know I’m not trying to hurt you. Please, at least tell me you know that.”
“How the hell do I know that?” he exclaimed. He gestured to his shirt, sticking to his bloodied side.
“Because I went and found Zephyr instead of fleeing the island! Because I risked my own neck to save you!”
Asherton ran his thumb over his lips, and then he tilted his head in reluctant assent.
“If you send me away,” Magdala continued, desperate to reach him, “then Huxley will just send someone you don’t know in my place. We know now that Huxley wants you dead, and with the coronation coming so soon, he’ll be more bold, more desperate.”
The muscle at the hinge of his jaw working, Asherton hissed through his teeth. “I think I’ll risk it.”
Magdala wasn’t expecting this. She blinked in shock and then cried, “What?”
“I can’t trust you.”
“You can. I swear you can. I’m sorry about the amenite. I did it to protect you.”
