He pauses at the door, glancing at me over his shoulder, “Good luck at the trial tomorrow. I look forward to seeing you again for that walk in the gardens.”
Then he’s gone.
I sag into the chair, finding for the first time hope. Hope that perhaps I can find a new life here. That I may be able to connect and relate to Cyrus more than I would have ever been able to imagine.
Though, his last words to me ring in my head like the dinner bell.
The hope fades as quick as it surfaced—because tomorrow is our first trial.
Thirteen
- MARCELLA -
“Shouldn’t I be…I don’t know? Getting some sleep before the first day of trials tomorrow?” I growl, flicking a glare back and forth between Devin and Cyrus.
Devin responds, “You mentioned being suspicious of Lyra. And those suspicions were unfounded. Are you sure it had nothing to do with the fact you two have never gotten along well?”
I narrow my eyes, but before I can speak, Cyrus says, “Easy, Devin. If she had a feeling, it was only fair we explored it. I trust her.”
Devin narrows his eyes at me. Clearly communicating that though Cyrus trusts me, he doesn’t. Which is fine. I owe him nothing. He’s not the one who might be able to free my brother. And his constant condescending tone toward me has me itching to fix it.
But I couldn’t specifically tell them why I found Lyra suspicious. She saw me take that knife weeks ago and hadn’t reported it. Annoyinglykepttrying to help me in etiquette lessons, andkepttrying to connect with me.
Either she’s a sneaky rat, or she’s just an overbearing, kind fool who doesn’t know when to quit.
But I wouldn’t be the one to condemn her by sharing my suspicions if I wasn’t one hundred percent certain—I hoped they’d find their own facts.
And now that it’s yielded nothing, I’m back to square one.
Perhaps sitting and listening in on conversations isn’t enough. Admittedly, it was probably the easiest way for me to do things, but seeing as it’s been unsuccessful, I might be forced to change my angle to something I’m not particularly looking forward to.
But with tomorrow’s trial, I’ll have no choice.
“Was there anyone else you felt was suspicious?” Cyrus asks me. “Anything odd you noticed or heard?”
I shake my head. “No, honestly?—”
Devin blows out a breath loud enough to interrupt me. When I turn to him, his arms are tight over his chest. “She’s wasting our time.”
“It’s a delicate balance trying to gain insight while not blowing my cover,” I growl at him.
“Well, you’ve never been one for balancing now, have you?” he puffs.
He’s pushing me on purpose, testing my limits. And I’m about to pummel him just to teach him to respect me. As I take a few steps toward him, Cyrus slides between us. Thunder growing in his voice as he warns, “Both of you settle down. Devin, stop antagonizing her. Marcella, how do you anticipate a new strategy?”
I shift my gaze to meet Cyrus’. “I’ll get closer to them. I’ll befriend them. That seems to be the only way I’ll be able to get a sense of who might be here for the wrong reasons.”
“Well, then. I think you’re dismissed for the night. I’d like you to get as much rest as you can before tomorrow,” Cyrus says, and fixes Devin with a look. “And Devin, from here out you’re responsible for Marcella’s well-being. That includes her safety, as well as her succession through the trials. Is that clear?”
I try not to snicker as I look at Devin. Even more so at the tension ticking in his jaw, like he’s fighting to not refuse. But to my surprise, he dips his head firmly and moves to escort me out.
I ask, “Cyrus, what are the trials tomorrow? Can you at least tell me that much?”
“He doesn’t know,” Devin interjects quickly, and brushes past my shoulder until I move for the door.
“Should I be concerned what it is?” I ask, tossing my glance from Devin to Cyrus, then back again.
“No harm shall come to you, Marcella Briarstone,” Cyrus whispers as Devin hurries me out the door and closes it behind us.
