A shadow cuts across her face. “Fine. Forget it. I knew I was being foolish anyway.”
She whips around and slams her back on the bars, sliding all the way down until she’s sitting.
I groan, rubbing my face. Ireallydon’t have time for this. But she was right in her anger toward me. My curtness was uncalled for.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, hunching down so my voice has less distance to travel, well aware that we’ve already drawn the attention of everyone and that a prince bowing to a prisoner is likely only making it worse. “What is it you wanted to say?”
“Nothing,” she says, arms folding. “I was being stupid. Like always.”
I wince, wondering what she means by that. “I don’t think you’re stupid. I think you’re…exhausted and desperate.”
She huffs a humorless laugh. “You have no idea.”
I can feel every prisoners' eyes upon us, making my hair stand on end. There's no telling who among them could slip to my father of our rendezvous. I have to keep up an act that I inherited but never even wanted.
"You’ll eat when we deem you worthy of a meal!” My voice rumbles like thunder rattling every cell in this wing. I resist the urge to glance over my shoulder to make sure everyone overheard, and instead direct a soft whisper to my aunt. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. And I’m sorry I haven’t checked in on you. The king has returned, and it took me awhile to find—"
Her neck snaps, eyes flicking to mine. "That abomination will never be anything close to resembling aking, and if saying as such costs me another finger, then so be it."
I frown. “I wouldn’t—" Seeing her unconvinced expression, I realize my words will do me no good. They mean very little to a woman behind bars who’s been promised her release. "I didn’t want to speak to you until I learned where he was keeping your boys."
She blanches. In the blink of an eye, all signs of the warrior she once was disappears and her face softens with the tenderness of a hopeful mother.
"What of my sons? Are they with him? Are they…please tell me, are they alive?"
A gaping fissure cracks my chest. I want to tell her everything, but her increasing volume is becoming problematic.
I slam my palms against the bars for a show of theatrics and shout, “You are in the presence of your prince, and you will be silent, prisoner!” While the bars still reverberate through the room, and the hushed whispers of the other prisoners fill the air like smoke, I murmur hurriedly, “They’re alive."
She keeps her face hidden from the others, keeps her tone low now. "How do you know? Have you seen them?”
"Not yet. But I promise you, my intel is good. I know where they’re being held. And soon you'll be reunited. Just…try to be patient, for just a little longer."
"Patient?” I can hear the disdain oozing in her voice. “Don't talk to me about being patient. You promised days ago that you’d get me and my sons out of here before the Hunt, but that’s only what? A few days away? What good is patience when all it earns me is broken promises?"
“My promise hasn’t been broken. I just understand the importance of timing.”
Her head shifts, not quite looking up at me, but I can tell I’ve gotten her attention.
I would lose my cool if I wasn’t so painfully familiar with being misunderstood by everyone.
Foxdoesn't know me. She doesn't know that I spent the first thirteen years of my life in a small human community until the noctis came and slaughtered everyone, including my own mother.
When my aunt looks at me, all she sees is my wicked nature and thirst for blood. I can’t prove to her I’m any different with my words alone.
“The morning of the Hunt,” I say softly. “That’s when I’ll come. After they’ve taken all the others to the Shadowthorn, I’ll come for you and then we’ll grab your boys and run.” Her head jerks, her eyes searching mine as if she’s waiting for me to tell her more. But we’ve drawn too much attention already. "I can't say anything else, and we can't talk like this again."
When I turn around, leaving her spinning to clutch the iron bars as she watches me walk away, every eye in the room is upon me.
Just to be sure that no one misconstrues what’s happened here, I remind them who is in charge and who they should fear. "The next person I find staring my way will lose their eyes and be forced to eat them."
It does the trick. Almost every prisoner turns their back to me so quickly that their collective movements summon a gust of wind.
That is, everyone except Charlotte—a woman who already knows me more than I'd like. A woman who has already seen farther into my soul than I'm comfortable with.
I almost don't even see her at first, tucked away in the shadows of her dark cell. But I feel her amber gaze, bright and warm like a late-spring sun, searing into my own. It had felt the same way when we were in the throne room.
She’s leaning against the wall with her slender arms crossed. At first glance, she seems frail. And perhaps some would classify her momentary breakdown earlier as something akin to weakness, but I know better.
