She’s still telling the truth. Am I asking the wrong questions?
“Why did you faint?” I try. Her eyes snap to mine.
“What princesswouldn’tfaint in the midst of battle? They had tidesdamned bombs!” Clever girl. Evading the question.
“That’s not what I asked. Why didyoufaint?”
“I don’t want to tell you.”
I summon another boom of thunder, and the princess whimpers. She averts her gaze, cheeks reddening.
“I’m afraid of thunderstorms,” she finally whispers.
My brows furrow. Truth.
“Why?”
“It’s none of your business!” she snaps. “I’m not answering any more questions. Kill me if you must.”
My mind reels. She hasn’t lied once. She didn’t know about the Rebellion attack, isn’t working with them,andshe’s terrified of my power.
I loosen my grip, and she winces. Her wrists are red and chafed beneath the edges of the rope.
Fuck. I’ve hurt her. And apparently for no reason.
Tearing my hands away, I clamber off. I help her sit up, but she twists out of my grasp as soon as she’s upright.
Her eyes widen when I unsheathe a dagger from my belt, and she tries to scoot away. The shard of guilt returns, sharper this time, digging beneath my ribs. Wordlessly, I grab her arms and slice through the rope binding her wrists.
As soon as she’s free, her fingers reach for her necklace, a simple teardrop pendant, and her shoulders sag with relief when she touches it.
Her gaze burns into me, but I can’t stop staring at her bruised wrists. Skies, I didn’t realize I’d tied the ropethattightly. The darkening welts are stark against her pale skin. I open my mouth, ready to apologize, but the words die on my tongue.Sorry, I tied you up. I thought you were working with the Rebellion and conspired against medoesn’t seem right. Or enough.
Instead, I rise and offer a hand. It’s no surprise when she ignores it, standing on shaky legs like a newborn fawn.
“We need to decide what to do next.”
She glares at me, full lips turned down in a frightful scowl. All right, an apology is definitely warranted. I open my mouth—
—and a loudcrackechoes in the forest behind me. I whirl, sword halfway unsheathed. Could more rebels have found us already?
A beat.
Nothing happens. No other energy signatures in the vicinity.
Brows furrowed, I sheathe my sword and turn back—
—right into Mayah’s waiting palm. She slaps me across the face so hard, my head twists sideways.
Jabbing a finger into my chest, she hisses, “You willnottouch meagain.”
I’m completely frozen, stunned into silence by this woman who has somehow managed to land asecondblow on me in less than thirty minutes. I scan her face, lingering on her ferocious pout and blazing eyes.
Skies, she’s gorgeous—even more so when she’s pissed.
My eyes drop to her finger, still jammed into my chest.
My cock twitches.
