It was the most repulsive, unflattering garment I had ever seen— and I couldn’t be more pleased.
The pants were fitted like deep brown leather leggings, but I didn’t want to stare at her ass all day, so I insisted on a matching knee-length skirt over the top. Her shirt was white, high-necked, and long-sleeved, and the entire bodice puffed out, giving no indication of her shape.
It took everything in me not to laugh at her scowling face as she came closer. Then I noticed the dark circles under her eyes. She looked awful—exhausted—and suddenly my overly modest outfit wasn’t so funny anymore.
“What the fuck am I wearing, Titus?” she scathed.
I inhaled slowly and looked at her through my own eyes one last time, because I knew I would not be allowed that luxury again. The High Lord did not bleed. He did not ache. He did not care. So I pulled the mask into place, sealing the fracture she had carved into me, and sharpened my voice into something that would keep her at a distance. Cruelty was safer than the truth.
“You requested pants, remember? So, I think what you meant to say wasthank you,” I snapped back.
I sighed internally. This was going to be a long day.
“Yes, thank you, Your Excellency, for making me look like a cupcake. I do not deserve your generosity,” she said, dripping with sarcasm, and bent at the waist in an exaggerated bow.
“Better,” I replied with a contemplative grin. Then, because I couldn’t help myself, I added, “You look like shit. Not the clothes— your face. Did you not sleep well?”
I tried to tread lightly. I didn’t want to give her any indication that I practically stalked her all night through fire-gazing.
She gasped like she’d never been so insulted. Good. The mask was working.
“If you must know, no, I did not sleep well. So do please excuse my hideous human face, Your Majesty,” she replied with the same sarcastic disdain.
As much as I hated being mean to her, I couldn’t deny how entertaining it was to fuck with her. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but she was extra fiery today and I fucking loved it.
“Does your room not meet your standards, human?” I asked, keeping it rude—yet I couldn’t fully hide the trace of sincerity that slipped through. It didn’t go unnoticed.
She cocked a brow and folded her arms like she was about to serve me another helping of her scorching, hot sarcasm, but then it was almost like she disarmed. She turned away.
Fuck. There actuallywassomething wrong with her room, and she definitely wasn’t going to tell me.
I needed a way to remedy it without taking off the mask, so I continued.
“Well, I can’t have you looking like that. You are to be my mate— no matter how temporary. I need you to keep up your appearance or I’ll be embarrassed to be seen with you. So if there’s something preventing you from sleeping, human, it’s best for both of us if you tell me.”
She looked at me like I’d just insulted the Guardians themselves.
I was pleased my cruelty was working. By the end of this trip, she was going to despise me.
A small part of me stung at the thought.
Then she turned her back fully, arms still crossed. She glanced over her shoulder and said simply, “the lights.”
I blinked, taken aback and confused. “Have you not figured out how to turn them off? You just sayoff. Or is that too difficult for your inferior, human brain?”
“It’s not the light,” she said. “It’s the sound. All those fireflies trapped in those glass balls—it sounds like they’re screaming for help.”
She was clearly ignoring my offensive remarks now.
The firefly lights were my father’s doing. I always thought they were ugly. My mother hated them too. All this time, I’d assumed shehated them simply because they were ugly—but now I wondered if she heard what Delilah could hear.
If recognizing another trapped being resonated with her somehow.
My chest tightened. My mother, in many ways, had been a prisoner.
Suddenly I wasn’t in the mood to play this game. “Let’s get going,” I commanded coldly.
We approached Draxxinar, who was still struggling to get saddled by the keepers.
