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She stares at me and then yawns.
“You’re a fucking hypocrite,” she says, her mouth roaring mid-yawn.
“But it’s morning,” I say. “And I’ve got a lot to do down at the shop. I’m just getting my day started.”
She shakes her head, possibly seeing through my lie.
I hope she won’t probe, asking for the information I’m keeping from her and myself. Yesterday at the shop, I learned something that should elate me but doesn’t.
“That’s a load of shit,” she replies. “You don’t need to do early mornings anymore. You’ve got me now.”
I chuckle, amused at how she insists on keeping up this ruse even while we’re together.
She has become incredibly helpful as a business partner, to say nothing of the sex. But it’s all just a role she’s playing—an act she’s putting on. This can’t go on for much longer.
“Hanna, we’re alone. The servants aren’t awake. You don’t have to bother with that.”
At this, she brings herself up from bed, standing beside me. I can vaguely see her reflection in the window.
“You think I’m not being genuine?” she asks. “If you’re that worried about it, we’ll face it together. Fake marriage or not.”
I realize, with a start, that I want to knock her back down to the bed and take her, and I wonder whether they’re my real feelings or something I manufactured for the ease and convenience of this marriage. It’s so hard to know what’s an act anymore.
How much of this is a lie?
“What aren’t you telling me?” Hanna asks, scrunching up her nose.
She reaches up to grab my face, turning it toward her own. I feel my eyes shifting away from hers, the temptation to lie reaching critical levels.
But I’m not going to lie. I don’t know why it bothers me so much, just admitting it to myself.
Even though it will probably cause our separation, I have to tell her what I discovered.
“I have a spy on New Solas,” I say. “I’ve been keeping eyes on the city while we’ve been away, in anticipation of our mutual mission.”
“Vrask,” she replies, interrupting me before I can finish.
Her eyes are still dim and unaware. I should be recounting the weather forecast to her, or explaining my culture.
I shake my head.
“Not Vrask, no. Somebody else. A trusted confidante.”
She studies me, as though somehow distrustful of my words, but too tired and unmotivated to challenge me.
“Anyway, my source has pinpointed Zathex’s exact location,” I continue. “For a while, we were blind, but Zathex made a dumb mistake, and it’s going to cost him.”
I feel that this is where I should smile. After all, this is supposed to be good news. I can finally fuck over the asshole that ruined me, and she can find her revenge for all the ways he abused her.
And I’m happy for her. She’s finally getting everything she asked for… finally finding peace knowing that soon, her would-be captor will be dead.
So I smile. Because I should be smiling for both of us. But somehow, it doesn’t feel genuine.
“It’s finally going to be over, Hanna,” I say. “We’re going to put an end to that bastard. However you want to end it, he’s within my grasp.”
And I allow myself to feel what I know I should be feeling at the moment.
Now that we have him cornered, there’s nowhere he can run. I’m determined to bring an end to him, solidifying once and for all the power of my words, and the legitimacy of my work. I’m never going to have to deal with hardship like what he put me through ever again.
