“No,” he bites out. “That’s what we’ve been doing, and our people are being slaughtered. The longer we wait, the weaker we get, the less chance we have of withstanding whatever eventually comes through those gates.”
I wrap my arms around myself in an effort to hold everything together, though it offers little reprieve. I’m already scattered, choking on that raging beat of chest-cinching anxiety.
There’s onlyoneoption I can see ... and to pull it off, it’s going to take every last ounce of courage I can scrape together. I’m going to have to lie to myself.Deceivemyself. Force myself into doing something I’d hoped I could avoid for the rest of my life.
I’m going to have to become somebody different. Someone bold and heartless.
Fearless.
“Why did you drag me to the Conclave?” I ask, glancing back up into his distant, rocky stare.
“To open your fucking eyes, Orlaith. The world out there is so much bigger thanthis,” he growls with a sweep of his hand, gesturing around my room. My entireuniverse. “I needed to prepare you for the worst case scenario.”
There are still words left on his tongue; I can sense them sitting there, ready to be flung.
“And?”
“And your tower may be high, but you of all people should know it’s usually the tallest flowers that get targeted with a pair of clippers,” he says with callous precision. “I figured you’d appreciate the heads up.”
The blow is brutal, meant to wound and cleave me from the safety of my shell. Meant to leave me feelingexposed.
Right now, the last thing I need is a bitter reminder of howexposedI am. I already feel it all the way to my bones.
My fists bunch and I bite my bottom lip so hard I taste blood.
Rhordyn’s nostrils flare.
His eyes grow dark and stormy, scouring me in a way that leaves me feeling naked despite my clothes and the thick shield of my hair.
“Anything else?” he drudges out through clenched teeth.
“Yeah,” I snap, wanting him gone. Hating the indifference in his eyes when all I need is a hug—for someone to tell me everything’s going to be okay.
A pretty lie to solder my spine.
“One last question.” I dig my hand down the front of my top and retrieve the vial, chewing up the space between us in three short strides. “Why are you such adick?”
His eyes widen.
I slam the vial at his chest so hard it would wind a regular person, but Rhordyn’s no regular man. I’m reminded of that as I move to tug my hand away.
Not fast enough.
He grabs the vial, snatches my wrist like it’s a wielded weapon, and pulls me so close I’m assaulted by the eddy of his icy breath—held at knifepoint by his rapier eyes.
“Who taught you that word?” His voice is a blade that cuts me in all the wrong ways. Leaves raw, tender trails down my body, where they meet between my legs and make me throb.
I swallow thickly.
Technically, I learned the word from one of his guards, though I doubt now is the right time to mention that. So I shrug, feigning immunity, draping a casual bravado over my wrought reality. “I’m not as innocent as you think I am.”
He laughs, brutal and unapologetic. “One day you’ll look back on this moment and realize how wrong you were.”
Incorrect.
It will be the other way around, but he’ll see that soon enough.
He drops my arm and spins, then lumbers through the doorway, pausing on the threshold of the stairs—the light spilling off a flaming wall-torch half-gilding him into a statue of dark, arrogant beauty. “You’re no longer required to attend the ball,” he announces over his shoulder, the words presented like a bowl of gruel.
