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Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Endreth’s expression changed. The hard lines of his face softened ever so slightly, the coldness in his eyes giving way to something more complex, more human.
“You think you have me figured out,” he said quietly.
“I think I have an idea.”
Endreth’s hand moved.
She flinched, her body responding before her mind could.
His hand froze mid-air before moving to pinch the bridge of his nose.
She had given away her fear, her vulnerability, laid it bare before him. Anthea expected him to seize upon her momentary weakness, to push further. To once again remind her of her place, of the power he held over her.
But Endreth didn’t move closer. Instead, the prince turned away from her, his body stiff as he moved back toward the table.
Anthea watched him lean over it, both hands flat on its surface as if seeking support from the inanimate object. His shoulders were tense, head slightly bowed, the silver threads in his white tunic sparkling under the light of the two moons.
Time seemed to stretch, each second an eternity as she waited.
Anthea didn’t dare to breathe.
After a painfully long moment, he finally straightened, turning back toward her. His eyes met hers again, and she saw a newfound determination in them.
“Fine,” he stated simply. “What do you want, Anthea?”
“I want a say in my part of your schemes.”
Endreth stared at her, his eyes reflecting the moonlight, transforming the azure into something akin to an icy blue. He remained silent, his fingers drumming rhythmically on the table, creating an almost hypnotic beat that filled the silence of the room.
“And,” she continued, “I want a detailed list of terms and conditions regarding my perceived role as a slave—a list of liberties you can take.” Drawing in a deep breath, she added, “I want to know why you keep testing my immunity . . ., I-I want to—” She could feel a lump forming in her throat, but she pushed it down, continuing her tirade. “I want to choose the books I can read.” Her words were a rapid-fire spray, spilling out before she could overthink, or he could interrupt. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, the need to get everything out battling with the need to breathe. “I want answers. Real answers.” Her hands clenched and unclenched, the words tumbling out in a rush. “And, I want . . . I need to get out of here sometimes. I can’t stay locked up in this castle anymore. I can’t breathe.”
“You ask too much.” The prince took a step back, creating more distance between them.
“You’ve been very selective with the information you’ve given me. I’ve heard only the narrative that suits your needs. I know nothing about the humans in Isluma, the real situation here. You’ve crafted a deceitful tale, and I am done playing along.”
“I have made a promise to keep you safe. And I cannot do so if you are roaming outside the castle’s walls. The outside world is not within my control.”
“And if you were to accompany me?”
Endreth gave her a long look, studying her for a moment before responding, “Then we would need to maintain appearances,” his tone was curt. “And I am certain you would not appreciate the implications of that.”
Anthea met his gaze without flinching, holding his icy stare with determination. She was ready to push back, to fight for her rights?—
“But,” he began, an exhale escaping his lips, the sound almost resembling a sigh of resignation, “I can grant you unrestricted access to the library of the Crimson castle.”
She blinked. A surge of triumph coursed through her veins, and she fought the urge to smile, to celebrate this small victory.
“As for your terms and conditions,” Endreth continued, his voice hardened with resolve, “we can discuss them, and perhaps . . . negotiate.”
Anthea was about to ask him when, but her words died in her throat. The look in his eyes told her that he had not finished speaking.
“I also promise to answer your questions,” he added, the edges of his mouth tightening in what could only be described as a grimace. “Truthfully and without any manipulations. But,” his gaze hardened, the warning evident, “I expect you to hold up your end of the bargain. You must play your part in the court, and not use this knowledge to undermine the Crimson court.”
Drawing herself to her full height, she extended her hand toward him.
“I’ll cooperate and behave . . . for now.” She held his gaze steadily.
He watched her, his gaze assessing, dissecting. Then, as if making a decision, he moved, and crossed the room in a few long strides.
