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He shows the first sign of emotion at my words, the chill in his eyes turning to a burning fury. “And here I was going to say thatI’moffendedthat you lied to me and damned my entire castle to a slow, painful death, running away with another man in the process.”
“How do you know there was another man?” It’s all I can do to keep my voice from trembling at the idea that Damian is out there somewhere, ruining everything I worked for and endangering everyone I am trying to protect.
I don’t bother correcting Einar on the rest, even though I never technically lied about anything and the idea of me running away with Damian makes every inch of my skin crawl.
Einar snorts in disbelief, but I don’t miss the betrayal pinching the corners of his eyes. It stabs me like a rusty knife to the gut, but I remind myself it’s better that he is kept in the dark. His pain is far preferable to his death.
“Why would I tell you anything when you have made an artform of withholding information from me?”
“Because you need answers. And I will give you one, in return for each one I receive.” It’s incredibly unfair in the light of everything I have done, but so much more is at stake than he understands.
“Bargaining when you’re in chains?” His tone is bitter.
“Well, I don’t break easily with torture, so this way saves you time and effort.”
He blinks like my familiarity with torture surprises him, and it’s an unwelcome reminder of the differences in our lives, our childhoods. Even if this hadn’t happened, even if I hadn’t betrayed him, I still would have been the poor village girl from the Eastern Islands who was stolen and damaged and used, and he would have been a king.
I swallow back the emotion I can’t afford to feel, waiting for him to respond.
“Fine,” he bites out. At least it is proving to be no trouble at all, keeping him at odds with me. The thought stings unexpectedly, even when I know it should be a relief. “But I will start.”
I wave my hand for him to go on, not quite trusting my voice to speak yet.
“Who sent you here?”
I will the blood to stay in my face, forcing my features into what I can only hope is neutrality. Of course, he would start with the one question I least want to answer. Which means Gideon likely returned, and he has the rose back. Otherwise, he would be asking about that.
I have a handful of stilted heartbeats to weigh my options.
Tell him that Madame is Ulla, and risk him flying off the handle and endangering himself. Refuse to answer, and risk his life anyway if Damian is off tattling to Madame right now.
Lying would be the most rational thing to do, but I can’t seem to force the falsehood past my lips. I have betrayed him so much already. Some small, unreasonable part of me doesn’t want to become the person he thinks I am.
“She goes by Madame,” I say at last. “She told you she was my aunt, and she forces me to call her my mother, but she is neither of those things.”
“Then who or what is she?” Einar asks.
I take a deep breath.
“She is the woman who stole me as a child.”
Chapter Thirteen
Zaina
Einar takes a moment to stew on what I said, his brows furrowing, while his narrow gaze assesses me. I hate the way it hurts to see him doubting me, but there is nothing I can do about that now.
Instead of asking for more information about my kidnapping, or even addressing it at all, his next question is about something else entirely.
“Why would she send you here, after a flower that few people know exists?”
“It’s my turn now,” I say instead of answering. I need time to think my way out of that question. “How did you know I was with a man?”
Hurt flashes in Einar’s eyes. “There were larger footsteps next to yours in the snow.”
So he had been the one to find me, which means, at the very least, that Damian didn’t bring me back here.
“But you didn’t see him...or his body?”
