“You were going to poison everyone at the Festival. And then what? Rule Arbinj and Tundrayn with your captain by your side?” Itsk. “Shame he’s dead. You could’ve ruled together—how romantic.”
Her expression morphs into a snarl when I mention her dead lover.
“You seem more upset to have caught me with another man than you are about the fact that I plotted to murder your family and seize the throne,” she hisses, a mockery of a smile unfurling across her lips. “Poor baby commander. Can’t handle a little heartbreak?”
Her words, sharper than any blade, twist into my still-bleeding heart.
Another rumble of thunder sounds out, but she meets my gaze this time. I grit my teeth, hands clenching into tight, vibrating fists. I don’t trust myself to speak without shouting.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To the border,” I lie.
“Are you going to kill me?”
“Maybe. I haven’t decided.”
She swallows hard.
“What did you do with his body?” she whispers. Vicious, seething rage billows up my throat until I’m overcome with the urge to throttle her.
I don’t know where the captain’s corpse ended up.
And neither will she.
The thought sends a wave of grim satisfaction through me.
Another cruel remark is poised on my tongue when the carriage jolts to a stop.
Chapter Forty-Three
Ishouldn’tnoticeherwintryscent. I shouldn’t breathe deeper as I draw closer to her. I hate that I do.
Her body trembles as I loom over her in the cramped space, a deep flush painting her neck and cheeks. Treacherous desire swirls in my gut. My body doesn’t seem to give a damn that she’s a liar. A waterwielding spy with no qualms about mass murder.
A perfect match to you, some traitorous voice whispers in the deepest recesses of my mind.Shut the fuck up, I snarl back.
Knee braced beside her thigh, I uncuff one wrist. Her skin is red and chafed. My hands falter. I hadn’t meant to secure the cuff so tightly.
It doesn’t matter.
Pursing my lips, I retrieve another iron cuff from my pocket and clasp it around her wrist. I repeat the process with her other wrist, then bind both hands together with a length of rope, all the while, ignoring her icy glare.
Her feet skid across the carriage floor as I drag her down into the sunlit clearing. She squints against the sudden onslaught of light.
“You said we’re going to the border,” she snaps. Her glare turns glacial.
“So eager to meet your fate?”
I nod toward the carriage driver—I’d already threatened him with a painful death should he breathe a word of my prisoner—then tighten my grip around the waterwielder’s upper arm, dragging her through the forest. She’s unbalanced with her hands bound in front of her, wobbling with every other step.
“Where are we going?” she grits out. Anger that she has no right to laces her voice. Did she ever speak to her captain with such cold disdain?
“Shut up.”
“I swear by the Tides, if you—”
My restraint snaps.
