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His hesitation, the way his eyes flitted around, trying to find an escape, told her everything she needed to know. But she wanted to hear him say it, needed to hear it. “Answer me! Did you know?!” she shrieked.
“Yes.” The single word was said with so much remorse. But it didn’t matter. He had known. He had let this happen. Anthea’s heart felt like it had been ripped out of her chest. The feeling of betrayal was suffocating. She steadied herself, taking a deep breath to quell the growing storm inside her?—
“When, Endreth? When did you know?”
“Before I told you about the dragons,” he admitted. “The first time, in my study.”
That was months ago. Before the ship, before the private alcove in the Cattleya court. All this time—he knew. She felt as if the air had been sucked out of her lungs. “Was it even true? Your story about the dragons possibly knowing how to send me back. Was that true?!”
Endreth lowered his gaze and slowly shook his head.
Anthea felt stupid—used. Tears streamed down her face, as she pressed her hands to her mouth to stifle a sob. The prince stepped closer, reaching out as if to comfort her, but she backed away, glaring at him through her tears.
“Don’t you dare touch me,” she hissed.
“Please . . . I didn’t want any of this to happen to you.”
Didn’t want—Anthea turned her watery gaze to him. “But you let it happen anyway,” she said, her voice trembling with pain and betrayal. “You know what? I could have expected this from Aegonar. But you? You played it so well: acted as if you cared—What kind of monster are you that you could pretend so easily?”
Endreth’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, a tremor running through them. “I am weak,” he burst out, his voice breaking. “I am so damn weak. I know that . . . okay. I was selfish. I wanted you, and when you offered yourself—I . . . I wanted you. But I am supposed to be a prince—the Crimson court is more important than my selfish desires. My loyalty to them, to my people—it should have come first.” Endreth’s voice trembled, his eyes were filled with anguish. “I am sorry, Anthea. I know I hurt you . . . I . . . I never should have let anything happen between us.”
“But my capture, that still should have happened?”
He held her eyes, at least he didn’t hide his gaze now. “At the time, it was believed to be the best course of action,” he stated.
“I trusted you. I let you in. And you . . . You used it. You used me.”
He took a step closer, his hands coming to rest on her arms, the touch gentle, as if he feared she would shatter under his grasp. “I know, Anthea, please . . . tell me how to make this right. When you jumped from that window?—”
“Just go,” she whispered, voice breaking. “Just leave me alone.” She drew back, out of his reach, wrapping her arms around her middle as though to ward off his words, his touch, the sincerity in his gaze.
“I know I messed up. And I know saying sorry will not make it right, but I am. I am sorry for breaking your trust. For everything.”
“Get out!” Anthea pointed to the door.
Endreth gave her a long, pained look before he finally turned and left the room.
She slumped back against the wall, feeling utterly drained. She didn’t know what to think, what to feel. She wished she could just close her eyes and wake up back in her own world. But she couldn’t—and now, she didn’t know if there was even a way for her to get back at all.
32
“Vaelor and Aegonar are waiting for you.”
Anthea hesitated, her emotions from two nights ago still raw. “What about Endreth? Will he be . . .?” she asked. They had left her alone for two days. The elf who had brought her food had asked each morning if she wanted to go out. But Anthea hadn’t been ready to face the world quite yet. Everything felt raw and numb all at the same time. Her mind had played a movie of her time in the Crimson court—how had she missed this? How hadn’t she realized?
Eldrion’s face hardened slightly. “Endreth is keeping his distance for now,” he replied curtly, not elaborating any further.
She wasn’t sure if she was ready to confront the heirs of the Nephrite and Crimson courts. She glanced at the elven warrior patiently waiting by the door. So different from his usual approach of just dragging her to where he wanted her to go. She couldn’t hide in this room forever. The prophecy—if it was even real, the elves seemed to think that it involved her?—
“Okay, let’s go.”
“Is that all? No more questions from you today?” the warrior asked, his brows raised.
“I have about a hundred. But let’s just get it over with.”
Eldrion studied her for a moment longer, before nodding.
The two of them walked in silence, weaving through corridors adorned with glittering gems and ascending two flights of stairs. Finally, they reached dark gray double doors.
