Those words ...
They’re acid to my bones.
He’s stealing that sadistic thrill from my nightly ritual, replacing it withthis—something equally refined, as if the door were still separating us as he took my offering.
He pauses with his hand wrapped around the handle. “Lilac.”
I shake my head, glazed attention lifting to the back of his head. “What?”
“To match your eyes,” he murmurs before tugging the door open, and then he’s gone.
My lids flutter closed, shuttering me away.
I was bleeding at the breakfast table this morning, and he certainly didn’t demand I dip my leg in a bucket of water.
Is this some sort ofpunishment?His way of forcing me to break my routine? Because that’s what it feels like.
He dealt his blow and left.
There’s a soft knock, and I look up to see Hovard bowed around the doorframe, assessing the space with his marble eyes. “He’s gone?”
“He is.” I clear my throat, watching him inch back in like the ground is littered with hot coals. “And he liked the red.”
Hovard pushes his glasses further down his nose and studies me over the rim of them. “Oh?”
I nod. “And I want the dress cut low in the back and more fitting around the hips.”
His brow pinches, eyes going wide, cheeks sponged red. “But ... but Orlaith, my dear ... you wouldn’t be able to wear your underbones. That would be consideredveryinformal for such an occasion!”
“That’s the point,” I bite, unpinning the rest of Dolcie’s monstrosity from my frame.
If I must attend this ball, I refuse to be stuffed into something impossible to breathe in.
“So long as the neckline sits around my throat, I’m giving you artistic license, Hovard. You’ve always said you’d love to dress me like a doll. Well ... have at it.”
He stares at me for a long moment before he bursts into a foray of movement and chatter and expressive hand gestures that make me smile.
Rhordyn wants to punish me? Well.
Two can play that game.
The sun is sinking, turning ribbons of cloud a soft shade of violet.
Standing amongst the ever-changing masterpiece of color and light, I watch Rhordyn stalk toward the labyrinth of trees that sweep around the castle grounds ...
My Safety Line.
He reaches the far corner where forest meets the plunging cliff and begins his survey of the perimeter—a walk that will trace my Safety Line until he disappears into the forest. Goes places I’ll hopefullynevergo.
Beyond those trees, bad things happen.
Wide, unseeing eyes.
The smell of burning death.
Beasts that tore into—
I clear my throat, hating him for hacking such a huge hole in my routine. Now I’m up here in knots, chewing on excess time, and I doubt he gives a shit.
