Peonica’s fingers tighten around her goblet. “It’s not what you think.”
“And what am I supposed to think?” I reply sternly, shooting to my feet, everything we were just discussing forgotten as fury surges through me like wildfire. My chest heaves as I storm toward Peonica and grab her by the shoulders.
“Look at my Crimson Tether,” I growl, lowering my head justenough for her to see the two red locks amidst my white waves. “It ruined my life. It killed my mother. It killed yours. And while I wish nothing more than to whip my mother’s killer for what he’s done to her, it isn’t him who's the real evil. It’s the man who brought the curse upon her.”
I tremble with fury. “If you do something wrong, I wouldn’t be able to protect you,” I spit, my voice breaking. “Not until I’ve won. And if I lose…” My words falter, the weight of my own admission dragging my shoulders down. “If I fail, so many will suffer. In this realm and the next. But I need to know that the people I love won’t pay the price for my failure.”
Peonica yanks herself free, breath coming fast. “Not every man is your father and not every love story is a trap.”
My pulse stutters at her harsh reply and I’m suddenly at a loss of words.
Eva clears her throat, breaking the silence. “Well,” she murmurs, “this is a lot before breakfast.” Then she puts her hand on my shoulder. “Ray, don’t be so harsh,” she says quietly. “Peonica’s smarter than that. You know she wouldn’t?—”
I turn on Eva, my voice hard like steel. “I’m not worried about her making a stupid decision. The decision can be madeforher.”
I turn back to Peonica, lowering my voice to a dangerous whisper. “Why would you risk it? Why would you tempt fate by sneaking around with some boy who could force himself on you the moment no one’s looking?”
Peonica flinches, but she doesn’t back down. Instead, she squares her shoulders, something unreadable flashing in her honey-brown eyes.
“Levi isn’t like that,” she snaps.
The name tugs at something half-forgotten. But my rage is too blinding, too loud. “How many women have said the same thing about the boy they liked?” My voice is unsteady, my hands curling into fists. “Maybe even my mother?—”
Peonica lets out a short, bitter laugh, and the sound sends a shiver through me. “No one forced themselves on your mother,” she says.
The words she spits out are not a defense. They’re a statement. Aconviction.
Their meaning lands wrong, and I blink at her, my thoughts grinding to a halt. “How would you know that?”
Peonica hesitates. Just for a second. “Because everyone knows,” her voice steady, but her posture has gone rigid, her eyes flicking away from mine.
My pulse spikes. “And why,” I say slowly, the ground beneath me shifting, “would everyone know that?”
Peonica exhales sharply, as if she wishes she could take it all back, but she doesn’t. “Because she told them,” she says quieter now. “She told everyone.”
My lungs stop working. “She—” The word chokes in my throat, coming out hoarse.
Peonica presses forward, as if she has to get it all out now, as if saying it faster will make it hurt less. “She encouraged all of the cursed women not to be ashamed of their choices, like she wasn’t ashamed of hers,” she says, voice frayed and bitter. “She calledhimthe love of her life. She said she had no regrets, none, about following her heart and leaving her husband.”
Leaving you. She doesn’t say that last part but the unsaid words hang in the room nevertheless.
The world stops turning. The weight of her words settles over us like ash after a fire.
Eva moves first, her hand barely brushing my arm. “That was unnecessarily cruel,” she whispers to Peonica.
The younger girl doesn’t speak. Her lips part, but no words come. For the first time, she looks unsure.
My breath is unsteady. I swipe at my eyes and wave Peonica off before she can speak.
“Don’t.” My voice scrapes out rough, barely holding. I clear my throat once. Twice. I’m about to do it a third time because something thick and thorny is caught there, bitter enough to make my eyes sting when a knock splits through the silence.
Peonica exhales sharply, as if she was about to say something. I don’t let her.
I turn on my heel and yank the door open, revealing a trembling messenger. Kaelzar looms over him with a glare that could curdle milk.
“His Majesty,” the messenger stammers, “requests your presence.”
I hesitate, emotions warring within me. A dozen thoughts flit through my mind—postponing, changing, drying my hair—but all would mean facing my friends. Facing Peonica’s apologies and Eva’s insistence on talking things through.
