Page 39 of Ravenrose

To her credit, her eyes stay locked on mine. She’s so focused on holding my stare that she doesn’t notice my hand drifting to the knife at my waist.

Not until the blade is at her throat.

Her composure fractures the instant the blade presses against her skin, her eyes widening as she draws a sharp intake of breath.

Keeping the knife at her throat, I rip the gag out of her mouth with my other hand. Not removing it entirely, but holding the cloth out just enough to allow her to speak. The back of my fist burns where it grazes the skin of her cheek. The glare she gives me is full of undiluted hatred.

I lean in, my voice low and threatening in her ear. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t end you right now, Princess.” Slowly, I increase the pressure of the knife against her throat until I’m certain she feels the sharp bite of the blade as it breaks her skin. Warm crimson trickles down her neck in a single bead of blood.

Holding the blade there, I wait patiently for her response. Not letting up the pressure, but not pushing any further. I can’t help but think, Just a little more… and this would all be over.

I’m expecting fear, panic, begging even, but something in her eyes shifts. It’s as if the sharp prick of pain has cracked something inside her. For a split second, her mask falters, emotion breaking through, the look in her green eyes raw and unguarded.

It catches me off guard, and I tighten my grip on the blade on instinct.

And then, just like that, it’s gone. Her gaze is distant, as if she’s seeing something else—as if she’s gone elsewhere.

My brow furrows, and tension radiates through my body. The blade lifts from her skin ever-so-slightly. When the focus returns to her eyes, I’m hit with the aftermath of whatever it is she just saw in her head.

Grief.

I recognize it—all too familiar with it myself.

She swallows hard beneath my blade, and I wait for the inevitable collapse.

The tears. The begging. The breaking.

I brace myself, near certain I’m about to watch her fall apart.

Sure enough, tears gather, glassing her eyes, but she refuses to let them fall, forcing them back until her eyes are rimmed red. But the grief in her doesn’t fade; instead, it hardens, its edges sharpening into something far more dangerous—something unyielding.

Her evergreen eyes stare up into mine before she finally speaks.

“No.” She lifts her chin higher, exposing more of her neck, and my jaw ticks. “Stop hesitating and do it already.”

Shadows creep into my gaze, and my jaw tightens. I release the gag; the taut cloth snaps back harshly against her mouth—cutting off her ability to speak—and my eyes drop to where my knife still ghosts the skin of her throat.

She looks away, her gaze lifting skyward—to the small opening meant to act as a vent. I follow it through the small hole in the cloth, finding the light of a handful of stars.

I drop my gaze, staring at her now. She takes in the stars with an unreadable expression on her face. Those dim little lights are the last thing she sees before her eyes flutter closed.

And she waits.

My grip on the blade doesn’t waver as I study her face. There’s no trace of the raw emotions from just before, the ones I was never meant to see. Her face is blank, an eerie calm settling over her as she makes peace with her plight. She steadies her breath, her throat working up against my blade when she swallows; another bead of crimson falls free. She breathes in deep and releases it slowly, savoring each breath she takes, very well aware that any of them could be her last.

Do it already.

I tighten my grip on the blade’s handle again. Every instinct is practically screaming at me to kill her. It would be so easy; just one more ounce of pressure, one subtle flick of my wrist, and I could be rid of what is undoubtedly a nightmare waiting to happen.

But after several breaths, my hand doesn’t move and I find myself studying her face again. When the cold bite of steel neither cuts nor retreats, the princess’ eyes open, and our eyes lock. Frustration, hatred, defiance, and curiosity—all of it crashing together until we’re left at a standstill that neither of us is willing to break.

“See, I told you—amusing.” A voice wafting in from the front of the tent sets us both free.

A low growl erupts from my throat when I’m forced to drop my blade, taking several steps back while turning to face Theo.

He’s just standing there, watching the two of us with a wide grin.

With the knife gone from her throat, I hear the princess release a breath of relief—or is it disappointment? I can’t say for sure.