“Would you consider them your friends?”
“I…”What is she trying to get at?I can’t figure out if admitting or denying it will put me in a worse situation. Besides,arewe friends? Or is it merely the circumstances we find ourselves in making us allies? The fact of the matter is my friendships over the course of my life have been few and far between. But seeing no other reason to lie, I say slowly, “Yes…?”
She grabs my chin and yanks my face up to hers and I smack her hand off me. “Do not…touch me,” I warn in a whisper.
A hint of a grin is on her weathered lips as she straightens. “You do realize that your position in this castle will not protect you from the consequences of your ill attitude?”
“My position?” I snicker. She has to know I’m working undercover. And based off her and Devin’s shared distaste for me, I have to imagine I’m their common enemy.
“You will stay far away from King Cyrus, Lyra, and Aelia from here on out, is that understood? You will no longer converse or spend time with them. And your explanation for doing such shall not leave this room. If you so much as tell another soul, King Cyrus included, you’ll be exterminated immediately. Is that clear?”
My eyebrows arch at the severity of the demand. I stand up out of the chair, and at my full height, I have at least half a head over her. “If you know my true position here, then surely you’re not threatening me.”
To her credit, she doesn’t cower. The lack of fear has me concerned there are other parts of Lady Bethany I don’t know about—parts that feel confident enough to threaten someone of my experience.
She tilts her head to look up at me. “Oh, you ill-advised woman. Even if you had the General’s position of Cyrus’ right hand, you still wouldn’t scare me. Because, you see…” she leans in to whisper as if it’s not just us two in this massive library, “Cyrus isn’t the most powerful one here.I am. I can easily make your death look accidental. And I have far more allies than you do, that no one would contest it.”
A cold current trickles down my spine, and as she steps back I finally see it in her. The conviction. The boldness of someone far more sinister than what her appearance seems to convey. Despite the frilly light pink dress adorning her small frame, I imagine the blood staining her skin. Her fabrics. Yet the way she watches me feels as if even if she were soaked in it, she wouldn’t be bothered. Too locked in on her prey—on me.
“Now,” she says with a tilt of her head, “you may leave.”
Watching the predator prowling within her gaze, I slowly step away, careful not to turn my back to her. As I grab the doorknob, she announces, “General, she is free to go. Escort her back to her room.”
Once Devin returns me to my room, I have maybe thirty minutes to deconstruct everything that happened before it’s time to leave for dinner. I can avoid Aelia, I’m sure. But Lyra? After we created a blood pact and feeling like she’s the only woman I can truly trust? Knowing her stubbornness, she won’t allow me to just fade into the background, never to speak to her again.
There’s been a gnawing guilt in my gut since I kissed Cyrus yesterday. One that won’t let up and only bites harder when I see Lyra. The way she speaks of him, how her eyes glimmer. She’s smitten with him. And now knowing I might have some sort of history with Cyrus? That he might actually not have the door completely closed on whatever we had? I’m not sure how I’m going to share that information when I’m still processing it myself.
But completely cutting her off feels worse.
I stare in the mirror, desperate to find a way to tell Lyra without tipping off Lady Bethany or Devin. Knowing their expectations of me, they won’t allow me to slip. They’ll have their eyes on me all night. I can’t speak to her…but Icanwrite.
I scramble for a previous letter from Cyrus and open it. Using my dagger, I slice off the half with his writing. Not having a quill handy, I draw blood from my ankle. Carefully, slowly, I etch a short letter on the paper in my own blood.
Can’t talk.
Your room tonight.
Forty-Seven
- LYRA -
We all shuffle out into the hallway dressed in glittering gowns. I slow when we near Marcella’s room. The rest of the women move around us as we wait, but the door doesn’t open. I lean forward and knock. “Marcella? Hello? Are you coming out?”
We wait for a few seconds as the women begin to disappear around the corner at the end of the hallway.
“Come, we don’t want to be late. Perhaps she’s already in the dining room,” Aelia whispers and tugs my arm.
I try the knob and find it locked. Frowning, I shake my head. I don’t think she would leave without us. But with Aelia’s second tug, I relent and follow. We quicken our pace until we’ve caught up with the rest of the group and gather near the double doors into the dining room. We spill inside, our gowns glittering in the candlelight. Food is already set at the table, and I scan the room to find that only the armored guards line the room.
No Marcella.
Lady Bethany waits for us at the bottom of the stairs as we descend, her gaze sweeping over the group of women and lingering on the two of us before it’s gone.
“I don’t see her…” I murmur to Aelia right as we part ways around the long dining table to take our usual spots.What if whatever happened to Willow, happened to her?Aelia tosses me a slight shrug from across the table. Though, as I grab the back of my chair to pull it out, I see her out of the corner of my eye.
Marcella.
She’s dressed in a ruby red gown, hugging her hips and bust and billowing out onto the marbled floors. Her heels click on each tile,demanding attention. However, her eyes scan the table. Looking everywhere but at me.
