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Besides, this is the only sure way to keep tabs on her. She can’t move that chain without waking me up, and I won’t be sleeping nearly as soundly as I was the first time she ran off. Whatever semblance of peace I found at her side is gone now.
She scrambles sideways with a clink of her chain. “What are you doing?”
“Going to bed,” I sigh.
“Here?”
“It is my bed,” I remind her. “And big enough to fit the kitchen staff in, so I don’t think it will be an issue to sleep a few feet away from each other. Do you?” I challenge. Somehow, her discomfort at sharing the bed makes me feel a little less out of control of this whole mess.
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she takes a deep breath and asks a question of her own.
“Why did you bring me here instead of a dungeon?”
I notice that she doesn’t say ‘the’ dungeon, and I know it’s because she’s already explored my castle at length. Alfhild doesn’t have dungeons. The justice of my ancestors was swift and decisive. They didn’t bother with the nuisance of keeping prisoners.
My grandfather did build a prison off-grounds. He insisted there was no reason to have our enemies within castle walls, but I don’t tell her any of that.
“Wouldn’t that have been preferable for you?” The way she pushes the matter, it almost sounds like she would prefer to be in a cell.
Surely she isn’t accusing me of keeping her here for her body, when we didn’t even have that relationship before I knew she was a traitor.
Well, not for very long, anyway,I amend, blinking against the onslaught of images of Zaina in my arms when I thought she had finally let her guard down.
“And risk you escaping?” I finally answer her. “Besides, I risked Khijhana’s wrath enough for one day.” I still despise Zaina, but I’m tired enough that some of the fury has ebbed away into a number sort of disdain.
“So you’d rather sleep next to me?” Her voice is incredulous. “Aren’t you worried I’ll try to murder you in your sleep?”
The thought did actually occur to me, but I don’t give her the satisfaction of admitting it. “I’ve taken the liberty of removing the weapons from the room, so no, not particularly.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Like I would need a weapon if I wanted to kill you.”
At least she’s feeling comfortable enough to be herself now. I roll onto my side and tilt my head as though I’m merely curious. “Doyou want to kill me?”
“Right now, I do,” she mutters darkly, crossing her arms.
“Well then I guess I’ll just have to rely on my own ability to defend myself against one chained-up woman.” I say it mostly because I want her to be half as furious as I have been, and needling at her pride is the only sure way I know to do that.
It works. Her eyes blaze, and she gives me a look that makes me wonder for a moment if she was being serious about wanting to kill me. But I don’t think that’s her end game.
I think about questioning her more, but I haven’t slept in over twenty hours as it is, and there’s nothing I need to know before tomorrow morning. Judging by the bluish circles under her eyes, I won’t be able to get many coherent answers out of her tonight anyway.
I switch the oil lamp off, and somehow the darkness makes the weight of the lies and silence between us even more suffocating. But I don’t break it. I wouldn’t even know what to say if I did.
The minutes tick by, Khijhana’s occasional snore the only sound punctuating the endless quiet. I know Zaina isn’t sleeping any more than I am. Even in the barely-there glow of the moonlight, I can see how tensely she sits.
I wonder how she has mastered this kind of stillness. She doesn’t fidget, or even shift enough to tug on her chain.
Was she always like this? We didn’t actually spend much time together in our several months of marriage. It’s odd that she didn’t try to seek me out more when she was clearly sent here to gain my trust.Then again, the long game she played was clearly a success.
Bitterness nearly chokes me at the memory of our last night here. Before I can stop myself, I hear myself saying, “I have one more question.”
“And here I thought you said you weren’t going to torture me,” she says drily, her lucid voice confirming that she is wide awake.
“I don’t recall ever promising that,” I say.
She sighs, like either she knows I’m bluffing or honestly doesn't care anymore. I tell myself there is no reason for that last thought to bother me.
“What is it?” Her tone is as resigned as the sigh was.
