Taran’s eyes open, exhaustion bleeding out of them. He drops my hand and sinks to the ground, his back sliding down the wall.
I join him, resting my hand on his leg, hoping to show my support. He rubs his thumb against my fingers, and my heartbeat slowly returns to normal. This side of Taran… it’s frightening, if I’m being honest with myself. But I know it’s not who he is, deep down.
“It was Ystyr?” he asks, not looking at anyone.
Emlyn’s eyes narrow. “Yes.”
Taran sighs. “The ones here weren’t. They can’t be connected.”
“It wasn’t—I upset someone, and they reported me. They didn’t know I was coming here.”
“Then we still have a traitor to deal with.” Taran rubs his face with his free hand. “Someone we invited, who had time to send people. We need to figure out who. Today.”
I’m working out the most tactful way to voice my suspicions when Reid speaks up.
“Can’t you just ask everyone?” he asks, drawing stares from both Taran and Emlyn. “What? They can’t lie, right?”
“I’d like to pretend you didn’t just say that,” Emlyn mumbles, flipping his hair away from his neck as he turns to Reid. “Have you paid any attention to what I’ve been telling you?”
“He literally just did the same thing to you, and it worked.”
That is true.
Emlyn leans against the wall. “That was a rare instance of me trapping myself thanks to a promise I made you. Most of the time it won’t work.”
“Why not?”
“Ellie, ask me if I’ve fucked Reid. Let’s see how long it takes you to get a real answer.”
My mouth goes slack, my eyes shooting back and forth between the two of them.
“Uh…”
Reid’s face burns bright red. “We don’t need to do that.”
“No, we don’t.” Taran shifts his position, letting go of my hand.
Emlyn turns back to him. “Just bend them.”
Taran stiffens. “I’m not doing that.”
“It’s the best option.”
“No.”
Emlyn crosses his arms. “Forgive me, Your Highness, but I’m beginning to question your judgment on what’s best.” His gaze flicks to me.
“What are you implying?”Why are him and Reid so incessant on making me feel like I’ve done something wrong?
Emlyn purses his lips, as if debating the risk of answering.
Taran shoots him a glare, then pushes to his feet. “Just keep watch for the others.” He peeks out the window.
“There are other things we should discuss,” Emlyn says, peeling away from the wall. “Information about the wedding—”
“We can talk about it when everyone’s here.” Taran lowers the curtain and retreats to the bedroom, ending the conversation.
Emlyn curses under his breath, then storms out, the door slamming behind him.
