“W-what?”Stop stammering, you fool!
“I like this timid, shy version that blushes every time you think I want to fuck you.”
Heat springs to my cheeks as I look away.
He lifts my chin, forcing my eyes back to him. “Shall we play another game?”
“No,” I say, my reply quick.
He ignores me. “You keep pretending that nothing has changed, and I will keep thinking about all the ways I’m going to unravel your lies.”
ChapterFourteen
“I will keep thinkingof all the ways I’m going to unravel your lies.”
Jasce’s words haunt me as I walk through the palace the following day with new determination. Everything changed after Mazaline gave me that painting. If I can find her, then maybe I could go back tomylife.
I doubt she is in Darhavva, but maybe, since this city borders the desert, someone has seen her before. They might even have information about her that would help me.
She was unique with a tattoo beneath her mouth. I have never met anyone else with one like hers.
My purple cotehardie swishes against my legs as I hurry toward the front of the palace. No one says anything to me as I step through the door a few moments later, but I only manage three steps before a burly man moves into place next to me. I steal a glance at him. His weathered face and worn armor suggest experience.
“May I help you?” I ask when he continues walking next to me.
His sharp, attentive eyes sweep our surroundings. “No, My Lady.”
“Well, I don’t require your help,” I say. “So, you may go.”
A smile touches his mouth as he glances over at me. “I am your guard, My Lady.”
My guard?
Fantastic, indeed.
Maybe Jasce will send me a nursemaid next.
“What is your name?”
“Alban,” he says as he follows me into the city.
I take in the people of all shapes and sizes roaming the streets, then the buildings ranging from simple mud huts to towering stone structures.
It’s all so magnificent. So alive!
As I weave my way through the people, I search for signs of Mazaline. I even ask vendors and merchants walking by, but no one knows anyone matching her description. After hours of searching, my hope wilts even though I knew I probably wouldn’t find out anything in a crimson city. But I had to do something.
My stomach growls with hunger, and my legs ache with exhaustion as I stop in front of an alehouse. My guard stands behind me, his alert eyes scanning the alehouse’s interior.
The smell of roasted meat wafts toward me, as if welcoming me to come inside. So, I do.
The heat hits me first, followed by the din of voices and the clatter of plates and goblets. With the dim lighting, it’s hard to see in the crowded space. So, I push my way through the crush of bodies, scanning each one for any sign of familiarity.
Unfortunately, I do not find it.
Someone bumps into me, causing me to stumble and nearly fall. Strong hands grab my arms, steadying me.
“Apologies, Milady,” a deep voice says from behind me.
