Page 36 of Between Smoke and Shadow
“Good,” he says. He steps a fraction closer, dipping his head slightly. I force myself to be still as he continues. “I would also like you to hear my apology.”
“Your apology?” I repeat, stammering.
“Yes,” he says. “I am sorry for how I’ve hurt you.”
“You’ve never hurt me, Prince Harrick.” My entire being vibrates with reckless energy, waiting for the moment he finally drops this act and kills me.
“Not on purpose, no,” he says softly. “But you suffer because of my family, because of my betrothed. I am disgusted at how they treat you, and even more at how little I do to stop it.”
“I am a servant, Prince Harrick,” I say. His name tastes strange in my mouth, leaving a buzzing sensation on my lips. “You owe me nothing.”
He doesn’t respond. His eyes continue to roam my face, a strange sadness falling over his own. I never expected to see pity on an elite’s face, let alone the prince’s.
“Now, the repayment,” I say. I push back the thought of training here again, of the likelihood this is an elaborate trap. “You want to see my eyes. Am I allowed to ask why?”
“With me, you are allowed to ask anything,” he says. “I may not be able to answer, but I promise you won’t be punished for asking.”
“You make a lot of promises,” I say.
“Only ones I can keep,” he returns. His lips quirk upward. I’ve seen him smile in public and while dancing with Viana, but this is different. This is a small, not-quite smile, and it’s directed at no one but me. He goes on, “I want to see your eyes because people tend to hide them. Especially from people like me. I haven’t seen many, but I’ve seen yours, and they were nice. I’d like to see them again.”
It’s hard to imagine any elites hiding their eyes from him. I know Viana would crumble from happiness if Harrick asked her to remove her mask. But perhaps that’s too vulnerable for her. Perhaps he’s afraid he won’t resist the urge, and he’ll accidentally kill his queen.
With a hard swallow, I untie my mask. I hold it between both hands, keeping it close to my chest. I tell myself I’ll throw it backon if he starts draining my magic, but I don’t think that’s even possible.
Like last time, I don’t look Harrick in the eyes. I study his lips and his nose and his hairline as he watches me. His lips are set in a hard line, and his nose is perfectly straight. There’s a freckle near his left temple, and another one on his right jaw, barely visible through his scruff.
“Rune,” he whispers, so quietly I almost miss it. And yet, the hum of his voice shoots electricity through my blood and across my cheeks. So beautiful and gentle it’s almost cruel. He takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger, pressing gently against my skin. “Will you look at me?”
He can force me if I say no, but that’s not why I do it.
I look at him, and I wish I could say it’s because I’m afraid. That’s part of it, of course. I know he can force me if I resist, but that fear isn’t the full truth. I meet Harrick’s gaze, not because I’m terrified beyond logic, but because Iwantto believe he won’t hurt me. I’m so desperate for his kindness, I might just die for it.
Harrick stares down at me, jaw tight and brows furrowed. I’m trembling against his touch, studying the infinite colors in his eyes. Without anything between us, I can see all the different shades of violet. They aren’t nearly as dark as I thought. There are flecks of lavender and plum, of lilac and nightwater.
I was right, of course. Theyarebeautiful.
Harrick’s thumb grazes over my skin, partway up my jawline. Without permission, a sharp gasp breaks from my lips. So shameful. So pathetically needy.
Harrick freezes at the sound. For a split moment, his eyes are more black than violet, and his hand tightens against my jaw. And then, he’s stepping away, leaving a foot of cold air between us.
I think he wanted to kill me, I realize.
At the very least, he was horrified that Ienjoyedhis touch. I should explain that I’m simply not used to softness. Not from a man, not from anyone. It’s been cycles since I’ve known anything other than brutality and cruelty. I was startled by his affection, that’s all, and I couldn’t help but react.
Instead of explaining, I remain silent, face boiling from the inside out.
Finally, he clears his throat. “I’ll walk you back to your quarters. Don’t forget to meet me tomorrow.”
“I won’t,” I say. My gaze remains on the floor.
As we walk, my entire body vibrates with humiliation and self-hatred. His family destroys people like me for sport. Caleah is already paying that price, and if our escape plan fails, our entire faction will too. In that split second, my loneliness made melikesomething I should hate. I was leaning into Harrick’s touch, craving his gentleness, forgetting that he was—and only ever will be—the enemy.
TWELVE
HARRICK
She’d look good taking my cock.
