She may as well have slapped me in the face. ‘Ingra –’
But she’s not finished. ‘When did things start between the two of you, anyway?’
I feel the ghost of a lash across my back. ‘Not long after the whipping.’
Ingra lets out a harsh, hollow laugh. ‘All this time I assumed he was some courtier, your Emmeric. The son of a rich noble. Not theCrown Prince. Really, Elva, I think you might have taken the phrasesleeping with the enemya little too literally.’
Heat blooms across my face. ‘Hal’s not my enemy.’
‘Oh, I’msorry,’ Ingra snaps. ‘What wouldyoucall the current ruler of the empire that conquered your homeland and enslaved your people?’
I try to keep my voice level. ‘It was his grandfather who did those things, not him.’
‘He’s a Castellion, Elva. They’re one and the same. Fine, maybe he didn’tdoit, but I don’t see him trying toundoit.’
‘Heistrying to. I promise you, hewillfree the serfs.’
‘When?’
‘Just as soon as he can persuade his advisers and convince the court.’
‘And when will that be? A few months shy ofnever?’
‘He wants things to change,’ I protest weakly. ‘But his position is already threatened. He doesn’t have the support –’
‘Listento yourself,’ Ingra cries. ‘How can you possibly defend him?’
‘Because you’ve got him all wrong. He’s nothing like his family. He’s …gentle.’
‘Face it, Elva. Youbelongto him. You’re his property.’
‘No, I’m not,’ I say quietly.
Her eyes widen, then narrow. ‘You mean …’
‘Yes.’
‘You’refree? You’re free and you’re stillhere? What iswrongwith you?’
I cringe away from the acidity in her voice. What answer do I give? I’m here because of Hal. Because my parents are dead and Obsidia is empty without them. Because it’s my best chance of finding my sister. And because …
‘I couldn’t leave you,’ I say quietly.
I’ve known Ingra for almost as long as I knew Astrid. She’s always reminded me of her – bold and bright and fearless. And she’s always protected me. In many ways, she’s my sister, too.
‘You couldn’t leave me,’ she repeats, nodding slowly. ‘So you decided to … what? Get me killed instead?’
A wave of guilt slams into me. ‘That’s not going to happen.’
Ingra rolls her eyes. ‘Sure, sure. Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it. Only, it seems I can trust you about as far as I can throw you.’
The words cut deep. I’m certain they’ll scar worse than the whip.
‘Tell me,’ she continues, her tone part derision, part disgust, ‘was he grateful, the emperor, when he heard how you saved his life?’
I say nothing.
Ingra frowns slightly, confused by my silence. Then her brows shoot upward as the realization dawns. ‘Of course,’ she half whispers. ‘You haven’t told him. Because telling him would mean telling himeverything. And you can’t do that, can you, Elva?’
