Mael finally moves, pushing off the wall slowly. “Presumptions, as always,” he says, dismissing her accusations with forced indifference.
Anxiety vibrates through my blood, curling beneath my skin. Maybe I should have listened to Eva more closely. But the truth is that I am also to blame, alone with a man in my room, drinking wine, and trading intimacies. What utter stupidity.
Eva exhales sharply, pacing now, her fingers threading into her dark curls as if trying to anchor herself.
After a long moment, Mael exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “My mind is as blank as Raylane’s.” The words are flat, stripped of any true conviction. “But the situation speaks for itself, doesn’t it?”
His gaze flicks to my hair, to the single red streak that damns me.
Eva studies it, her fingers brushing over the crimson streak, but this time, there’s no detached precision. Her hand trembles slightly before she pulls it away.
“It couldn’t have been more than a kiss,” she murmurs. “It’s barely visible.” Her voice is softer now, but it doesn’t feel reassuring. It feels like a death sentence. A breath later, she straightens, locking herself back into sharp control. Her eyes cut to Mael. “What did Ryker say?”
I exhale through my nose. The sound of his name rubs against my skin like wet gravel.
“I’d like to know that too,” I say, turning to Mael.
His jaw tightens. He lifts his head slightly, just enough for the firelight to catch the fresh bloom of bruises along his jaw.
“We talked,” he says dryly.
I wince.
“He’s not in the happiest mood.”
“Of course,” I say. “The Archpriest is dead. Ryker has to focus on the realm before dealing with this. I mean?—”
“He said that order and justice must prevail in these uncertain times.” Mael’s voice is soft, but no less damning.
“Justice?” I blink. For whom?
“She’s being sent to Rust Hollow,” Eva finishes, disbelieving.
Mael nods slightly. “He ordered you confined to your rooms, under the supervision of a new duenna, until each Church is ready to present its Champion. Once the kingdom’s attention turns to the Trial, he hopes the matter will be handled quietly.”
The words punch straight through me, and a flicker of something sharp rises just beneath my skin: hurt, edged with anger. Hurt that Ryker would fall in line with the Church’s demands. And anger that he hasn’t come to tell me himself.
But I have spent enough time in Rust Hollow to know what awaits me there. The bony curve of women’s shoulders beneath threadbare dresses. The scarred flesh of those strong enough to survive the lashings. The sharp iron scent of blood after yet another desperate girl attempts escape. The hollow stares of souls already surrendered. The place where my mother died.
A future that I will not accept.
“I’d rather run,” I blurt out. “And if they kill me in pursuit, so be it.”
“Raylane,”Eva snaps.
“That’s why I got you to come,” Mael mumbles to Eva, raking a hand through his hair again. “You’re the only one who can talk sense into her.”
Eva presses her lips together, thinking. “There is another option, which might be worse than Rust Hollow, but should be considered.”
I frown. “What?”
“Marriage,” Eva says, as if the word alone is an answer. “Once you’re wed, the curse disappears.” The room stills.
My stomach knots. “But marrying Ryker won’t help,” I argue. “Even if he could bring himself to do it. I would have to marry?—”
My gaze flicks to Mael.
He stands frozen. Not blank, as before, but rigid, as if something heavy has just settled onto his shoulders.
