Defeated, I throw on some clothes and head for the kitchen. No drinks this morning. I have a big swim ahead of me.
“Do you really think they’ll just let you swim off the island?” Phaedra asks.
“No one has tried to stop me yet.”
“Maybe they didn’t believe you could actually do it. At first. But I’ve seen Adrian watching more…”
I shrug. “I don’t care if he’s watching me. He’s not going to stop me.”
“What if he lets you go all that way and then follows in a boat and apprehends you. You won’t get far.”
“If he lets me go all that way just to snatch me back after, I’ll fucking kill him.”
She gasps.
“What?”
“That’s just… I don’t know. He’s only following his orders from the king…”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Yeah. The orders of an evil dictator. The same ones that got my best friend killed.”
She looks down at the floor. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I,” I mumble.
But she’s got me thinking. Am I a fool for thinking they’d let me leave here? My backup plan just might need to become my primary.
Instead of heading to the shore for a swim, I walk to the garden. The one I’ve refused to look at again since Adrian first presented it to me.
I hate it.
But he usually comes around this time of day, so I’m hoping he’ll find me out here. Perhaps he’ll believe it’s softening me to him.
I don’t wait long.
The large yellow petals of a flower feel silky soft on my fingers as a voice pierces the air from behind me.
“You love those.”
I take my time turning around, preferring to face the flowers over his face for as long as I can.
He’s wrong. I hate these flowers. They remind me of him.
I curl my lips up softly, without showing teeth, and nod as I face him.
“I miss home,” I lie.
He reaches out a tentative hand, and I work my absolute hardest to make sure the disgust that I feel deep inside my core isn’t showing across my face.
He gazes into my eyes, and we stay like this, suspended in a torturous moment that feels like an eternity. Then he leans in, and I know what he’s going to do. My heart races, and not for the good reasons. Everything inside of me is screaming. I haven’t been kissed in a year, and there’s only one set of lips that I want to touch mine.
It’s not these ones.
My body stiffens as the softness of his mouth meets mine. It’s gentle, restrained. I’m not going to give much enthusiasm beyond standing here and allowing it to happen. I can’t. My blood turns cold as I wait for it to be over, which, thankfully, happens fast.
He pulls back, staring deep into my eyes again with a smile that touches his eyes.
He suspects nothing.
