His eyes darken to a deep, stormy gray. “No, Orlaith. You’ll be attending the ball.”
I suck a sharp breath, as if I’ve just been struck.
Attending?What’s the use? Nobody needs to see me. And I certainly don’t need to see them.
“Why?” I lash the word, but he doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink.
“Because you’re anenigma.The girl who survived a Vruk raid at the tender age of two.”
“What’s that got to do wi—”
“You keep to yourself when newcomers enter the castle grounds, and refuse to be involved with the monthly Tribunal.”
Here we go.
“That’s not true. I used to attend.”Sort of.
“Twice.And if I’m not mistaken, you spent most of the time sticking to the shadows.”
The shadows were more friendly than the stares.
Thewhispers.
My knuckles protest from the bunch of my hands. “I have no troubles to publicly voice, no interest in what everyone has to say, and therefore no reason to attend the Tribunal. Simple as that. I certainly shouldn’t bepunishedfor it.”
His brows kick up, eyes narrow. “No interest, you say?”
“Zero.” I practically snarl the word, watching the muscle in his jaw feather the moment it leaves my lips.
“Well,” he bites out. “So you don’t choke on that lie, I’ll offer you a chaser of truth. You’re almost twenty-one. I’ve not seen any effort to overcome your fears, and my string of patience is thinning. Fast. You don’t want to find out what happens when it snaps.”
A vision of me being hurtled over my Safety Line springs to life, and my blood chills, becoming so cold even the fire crackling at my back struggles to thaw my icy composure.
Definitely should have walked out the moment he entered the room.
“As I said, you’re an enigma. And peoplefearenigmas, Orlaith. They start twisting things to make sense of it all. The last thing I need is further discord in my Territory.” He leans forward and plants his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together. “I need them to see you’rejustyou. Nothing more.”
A weight lands in my stomach; almost has me vomiting honey buns all over the table.
Just me.
Right.
Gaze falling to my plate, I swallow the smear of bile coating the back of my tongue. “I hate crowds.”
Though the words come out a murmur, they’re clipped—aimed to fend off the circling predator.
The statement isn’t entirely true. I like crowds, so long as I’m watching from a distance.
But he’s asking that I beinvolved.
“I’m giving you plenty of notice. You don’t have to stay at the ball for long, but you will be there.”
He might as well be hurtling me into the forest to fend for myself, letting the ancient foliage chew me alive. Something he also has the power to do.
At the end of the day, I’m his ward.
I’m the one imposing onhislife, not the other way around, so I should really make an effort to be more pliable. Attending a ball isn’t going to kill me, but getting tossed over my Safety Line might.
