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“And what is up with those scars, alright? I’m asking and you better answer. I can’t believe youliedto me —”
“Godsfuck, Zora,” he snaps. “It was my choice. I knew the gravity of what would happen.” He clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck, his jaw ticking. “As for the illusion, I just…” he chews on his lip, his anger fading into shame. “It’s a long story.”
I stare at his tattoos. “Are any of them real?”
He nods. “A few, yeah.”
“From being a Boss.”
He presses his lips together and looks down.
My mind swirls with too many questions.If he’s not a Boss…“Who are you?”
He draws in a breath to steady himself, then he stands and gestures to Ferris. “We need to get rid of this body.”
I get to my feet. “Do not ignore me.”
“I have to when you ask me questions I can’t answer,” he snarls. His eyes flash with color. “Ask me a better question.”
My shoulders tense. “There is no better question. You’re a stranger, but we have a connection. It’s not right that you’re hiding so much when you know basically everything about me.”
The Prince bends and forces Ferris’s body over his shoulder. He stands with a whoosh of breath, his biceps bulging from the man’s weight. “Don’t you want to know what I saw?” He shoves past me and out of the tent.
I stay on his heels. “Yes. I do.”But dammit I also need him to quit being so evasive.
“Ferris took your brother and…” The Prince moves to a large chamber at the front of the hall.
My gut twists as I see other bodies piled inside. “And?”
He drops Ferris in, then strides away to leave. “And the last time Ferris saw your brother, he was alive.”
I stop in my tracks. “How old was he?”
The Prince keeps walking, and I’m forced to catch up. He tugs open the door and charges down the tunnel.
“Hey, can you slow the fuck down? This is important to me,” I hiss, grabbing his forearm and tugging him to a halt.
He swivels around, his eyes full of so much darkness that I take a large step back. His fists ball, and for a moment, I don’t see The Prince. I see the rage of Ferris when the man first came into the tent.
The Prince closes his eyes. He lies a hand over his heart, his lips moving as he whispers each count of his pulse. The anger melts from him, and the next moment his eyes open, they’re normal. He steps to me and takes one of my hands, his expression so vastly different, I can’t help but gawk. “He was young. Maybe only 10.”
I nod and look away. “He’s three years older than me. He was 5 when he was taken.”
The Prince tucks my hair behind my ear.
“Are you telling me that disgusting pig had my brother for five years?” I ask. Bile rises in my throat as The Prince’s expression darkens. He doesn’t need to say it. I already know. It’s written in the pain The Prince wears.
At the same time, it won’t be real until I know everything, and I can’t help my brother if pieces of his story keep getting lost in translation or lost altogether. “I want to know,” I whisper.
The Prince tugs on my chin making me look at him. He levels his gaze with mine, his expression firm. “No, Zora. You don’t.”
My hands shake, and my ring finger ticks. I glance around the tunnel, finding it suddenly too narrow. “Talis,” I breathe. “He knows something. I need to speak with him.”
“If Talis can help, he will.” The Prince drops his hand from my face and nods to the room. “But for tonight, we need to rest. It’s been a long day.”
We trail to the room, both of us solemn.
Why does finally getting answers feel like nothing more than failure?I swallow as I crawl onto my made-up cot, brushing my dirty feet off on the rug.Maybe because every answer seems to only lead to more questions.
