Ivan sets the foldedGlenn Gazettein his lap. “Haven’t looked yet.” The bags under his eyes get darker every night without an update. The last month has aged him a decade.
He always joins me on the porch when he returns from town, both of us staring into the dark woods as he talks about everything and nothing, chasing the memories that haunt my dreams away with every word.
A throat clears behind me.
Asmo leans against the door frame, dressed in a plain black shirt and a pair of fraying cotton pajama pants, his midnight hair tousled and sleep still in his dark eyes. It’s only been a month since the wedding, but his cheekbones are sharper than they were when we first met. A lack of food and an abundance of stress have begun to wear us all thin.
Ivan stands and tucks the newspaper under his arm. “Guess I better head inside and get started on this.”
“You know, I don’t have to be supervised out here,” I grumble as Asmo replaces Ivan in the chair beside me. “I’m fine.”
But the words taste like metal on my tongue. I’m probably the farthest I’ve been fromfinein…well, ever.
Asmo is silent as he stares into the forest. Probably a good choice, as I’m sure he wants to refute my statement.
It’s like this every time we’re alone. Neither of us wants to acknowledge what happened between us, nor where we stand with each other. If I’m being honest, I prefer it this way. I’m only just now able to think about Marik’s betrayal while keeping my pulse steady. And every time I think about my relationship with Asmo, all I can think about is Marik. How every word, every touch, was a calculated move to slither his way into my heart and onto my throne. How can I trust anyone, let alone his brother, after that?
Even so, Asmo’s presence calms me in a way nothing else has been able to. He’s been beside me every night since the wedding. In the days after, when I was lying on my deathbed, he only left me when necessary. He slept with his head draped across my stomach, his hand gripping mine. Every time I woke up screaming, he was there to brush my hair back, slick with sweat and tears from reliving nightmares that had come true.
Although I grumble about not needing Asmo to watch over me, I appreciate his silent, steady presence. Mostly, I appreciate his silence. Sometimes, he asks me if I want to talk. The answer is always no. When we’re around the others, he’s his usual snarky self. The normalcy of it has been another comfort.
“Just because my magic doesn’t tell me you’re lying, doesn’t mean I don’t know you are,” Asmo says.
“Wow, that sentence was horrifying.”
He snorts. “My sentence structure is the least horrifying thing about this entire shitshow, princess.”
“Did Mummy and Daddy allow you to speak so poorly?” I quip in a haughty tone, hoping to direct the conversation away from me.
He doesn’t bite. “You’ll have to talk about it someday.”
I’d rather face near death again than talk about my feelings with the male who rejected me, then had to rescue me from his brother. I’ve been grappling with the embarrassment of being tricked by Marik and conned by Cora for weeks now. Embarrassment, just like regret, weighs more every day.
Asmo’s right—Iwillhave to talk about it someday, but I’m content to wait until I’m back on the throne I never wanted.
“There’s something I keep thinking about,” I say.
Asmo’s chair creaks as he leans back. “Hm?”
“Where do you think the witnesses from the wedding are? Everything I’ve seen in the papers…It’s like nothing happened, right?” He nods slowly. “I don’t understand how nobody’s come forward. And what about the High Houses? Koa? August? Their families were there, fighting with us. Why aren’t they saying anything?”
“Do we know for certain the witnesses are alive?” Asmo’s voice is quiet, but it cuts through me all the same.
Although he echoes my earlier thoughts, voicing the theory feels likea loss. I refuse to give that idea any weight. Cally has to be alive. I won’t think about the alternative. “I saw them leave.” Their looks of terror as they fled are yet another thing I can’t forget.
“Doesn’t mean they left the court, princess.” His voice is low. Somber.
The nickname feels patronizing this time, and I hate that I love it. It always brings me back to the first time I met him. It’s so easy and familiar to fall back into this aspect of our relationship.
“You think Marik would do that?” I can’t say the words. Eventhinkingthat the person I chose to marry might be responsible for the deaths of innocent civilians has my lungs constricting.
Asmo shrugs, but his eyes darken. “I don’t know my brother like I thought I did. After everything he’s done so far…I’d say it’s within the realm of possibility.”
There were children there, mothers shielding their babies from the living nightmares that crawled from the hells. Shame is a constant companion when I think about my involvement in this, but it threatens to consume me now.
“Have you thought about Ivan’s theory?” Asmo asks.
I’ve been thinking about it all day, pacing the yard in front of the cabin until the grass was flattened and the sun began to dip behind the trees.
