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Except for my complicity in the events leading up to it.
Like Baxter, he’s sure to despise me once he knows.
“That’s enough,” Lucien says to the other man. “She’s spent, and this emotional outpouring is only going to incapacitate her further. But I will say this: whatever you’re holding over Adelaide isn’t enough to change my opinion about her.”
“It can wait until the queen is removed from the throne.” Baxter massages his forehead and exhales. “I let my need for revenge cloud my judgment.”
“I suspect there’s more to it, but that’ll be dealt with later on.”
Lucien carries me from the wine cellar. and I cling to him, knowing it’ll be one of the last times I get to experience this. Only a sliver of surprise remains when I think on Baxter’s sudden change of heart. I was convinced he wanted the hatter to hate me, but without taking the responsibility of telling why.
Instead, he shut me down.
If I wasn’t so drained from him invading my mind and reliving the dreaded memory, I’d be tempted to march back there and confront him on the matter. However, Lucien’s presence brings me out of my musings and into his embrace. I turn my face toward the soft material of his waistcoat, snuggling against him.
For as long as he’ll allow it.
A yawn sneaks up on me, and I cover my mouth. “Are you taking me upstairs for a nap?”
“No. I’m taking you upstairs for a fuck,thena nap.” He tightens his hold on me with every word spoken. “I don’t know what the hell Baxter was thinking when he dove into your psyche like that. Although I don’t possess his abilities, it can’t be good for you to have so many shields removed at the same time.”
“I asked him to. Please, don’t blame Baxter.”
Lucien stops abruptly and drops his chin to stare at me. “You’re defending him? After he tortured you?”
“Whether they’re good or evil, those memories are mine. Within them is the truth of who I am, and I need to know. Maybe it’d be best if we didn’t…”
“If we didn't, what?” His eyes narrow to pinpricks, but I can still see the anger blazing in their depths. “Answer me, little bird.”
I bite my lip, and his heartbeat accelerates. Is it due to anticipation or desire? “We both know the person locked in my head has done some dastardly things, things I’m sure I’ll regret and wish I could change. But the fact is that I can’t. She and I are the same person, and her wrongdoings will fall on me. Don’t you see?”
He remains quiet, and tiny remnants of his thoughts flicker across his features. A muscle in his jaw ticks. The lines around his mouth deepen. But the biggest tell is the way his pulse begins to hammer between his ribs.
I restrain myself from comforting him by fisting my hand and pressing it to my chest. Lucien doesn’t need me to sway him one way or the other. Even so, I want to prepare him for my betrayal as best I can, prior to him learning about it. Not that I think it’ll save our relationship, but I hope it’ll prevent him from trying to kill me.
Because if he does, I won’t hesitate to use my magic to defend myself.
Unless he can create a powerful illusion, he’ll die.
“What I see,” he says, his words careful and measured, “is that your lack of memories created such a significant change in you that even Baxter doesn’t hate you as much as he thinks. There was a time he refused to speak your name or your mother’s. And that rule applied to anyone who spent time around him. But now? The man struggles to keep your name from his mouth. And his hands off of you.”
“He doesn’twantto want me,” I whisper, immediately smashing the hope building in my heart. “Is that it?”
“I’d bet my treasured hat collection on it.”
Despite everything, the image of Lucien surrounded by various hats brings a smile to my face. I cup his cheek with a sigh. “Of course you have a collection. You millinophile.”
He makes a chastising noise by clicking his tongue. “You should know better than to insult me.”
“It’s not. It’s someone who has an excessive love of hat—”
“Pussy. You’re correct. It’s not an insult.”
Laughter bubbles in my throat and spills from me, filling the room. Lucien winks, and my smile deepens. As does my affection for him.
“That’s better,” he says, brushing my cheek with his fingertips. “I hate to see you cry, little bird. Unless it’s because of my cock. That is perfectly acceptable. Mandatory, even.”
I shake my head at him. “You’re incorrigible.”
