“She’s the Queen, Pandora,” he snaps.
“And you’re a prince, aren’t you?” I shove at his chest. “Doesn’t that meananything? Why do you work for her? What do you do all day? What happened to your family? What about your sister? You never even talk about her!”
He gives me a hard, silent stare, a blazing fire burning in the depths of his pupils, but I don’t back down, don’t look away, insistent on answers this time.
He turns his head with a sharp hiss. “My sister,” he says voice low and lethal. “Is a lot like you.” His hand tightens around my throat as he brings his gaze back to me. “Brave. Proud. Reckless. Meddling and… fuckingnaive,” he snarls, and I flinch.
“She’s exactly why I have to be so careful, why I have to do every vile thing that’s asked of me, why I—we,” he corrects, tapping his thumb against my neck. “Have to stay in line so I can get her out of the stupid fucking situation she got herself into.”
I blink at him. “What situation?” He remains silent and unmoving. “Does Morin…have your sister?” He nods once. “What, like locked away?” He shuts his eyes and supplies another nod. My mouth dries. “And you intend to…”
“Get her back.”
I push against his arm, and he lets me loose. I pace the chambers, wringing my hands. “But surely she can’t just keep her locked away like that—“
He lets out a bitter laugh. “She’s the Queen, Pandora, and she has every right to after what she did.”
“What did she do?”
He sighs, but I’m pretty sure I already know based on what Vera’s told me. Sitri’s sister thought Morin was responsible for their parent’s deaths. I halt my pacing. “Did she try to kill Morin?” Another disgruntled breath, which I take as acknowledgment. “Because of what she did to your parents?” Sitri pinches at his nose, another confirmation. “Will Morin have her head then?”
He shakes his head wearily. “I don’t think so. Enjoys lauding her over me too much.”
“How are you going to get her back?”
He chews at his lip. “Pet…these aren’t your problems to worry about.”
“Vera deserves to know Imenand is alive.”
“No,” he says firmly. “This whole thing is a fucking mess as it is. I don’t need anyone else involved. It will only put them at risk, especially if they try to take matters into their own hands like Imen did...I’m going to get her back,” he says voice firm with resolve. “But as of right now, my hands are tied. I have to do as ordered. We have to,” he corrects as he bitterly waves a hand in my direction.
I stare at him for a long moment. Finally…he’s giving me something. I turn away, muttering a curse as my pacing grows more frantic. Not only do I understand…but I respect it. Hell, isn’t that why I’m here? There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to save my sister. Of course, I don’t want to do anything that puts his sister at risk. Any feeble argument I had about not attending this rite crumbles all around me.
Which means…I’m going to have to go.My dread blossoms, expanding rapidly under my ribcage. “Fuck,” I whisper, digging my nails into my forehead. “This is a nightmare. I’ve had nightmares about this exact thing.”
He chuckles softly, and I shoot him an incredulous glare. He steps in front of me to halt my pacing. “It’s not as bad as whatever you’re imagining.”
I groan into my palms, and he grips my shoulder with a comforting squeeze. “It’s going to be fine. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” I swallow thickly. “I need to go,” he announces, his hands clapping back to his sides.
“What time is the Rite?”
“Midnight.”
I keep my gaze pointed at my twisting fingers. He’s halfway to the door when I look up, a new anxiety tightening around my throat. “Try not to get stabbed,” I say weakly.
I expect a jab in return, a smart retort but his face is somber, eyes hollow as he turns back. “I promise.”
I spend a gooddeal of the day pacing his chambers, the daemon ratcheting up to an almost unbearable level. The sun has already fallen when I hear the jangle of the doorknob. I can’t help myself from running in from the bedroom and scanning him for injuries. Once I’ve assured myself there are none, I expel a breath and slump down on the sofa.
A sheen of sweat has accumulated across my brow. My head is pounding from how tightly my jaws have been clenched. I rub at my temples. I was so worked up the daemon expelled, creating a notable fissure on the bottom of his wall. I moved one of the chests over to cover it. My eyes wander over there now. I force them away, not wanting to draw attention to it.
I’d spent a good deal of time studying my naked body in the mirror, an act that was difficult enough for me as it is, let alone with the knowledge that I would soon be displayed for everyone to see.
His brows knit as he examines me. The storm brewing inside of me likely blatant. The clock says ten. Two more hours to go. “I would like a drink,” I declare.
He surveys me silently and nods. “Let’s go.”
“We’re only going to make an appearance. In and out,” he assures me on our way to the kitchens.
