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Chapter Ten
Aika
Mother took the news about Einar just as I imagined she would. One of her soldier playthings walks past me into the room as I leave. Horror crosses his features before he schools his expression to something more seductive.
Poor bastard.
It’s rarely good to be attractive in her employ.
Since she has forbidden me from leaving the estate again tonight, I decide to walk the grounds instead. I need the air and the space to sort through my earlier conversation with Remy.
Even if he was bluffing, if he’s bold enough to threaten to turn me in without evidence unless I help him, then that probably wasn’t the last time I will hear about it.
Not to mention the fact that his end goal is to get to Madame.
I tug on a tendril of hair that’s escaped my bun, trying to sort through it all when my gaze snags on an unexpected bit of movement across the grounds. The stars are clear and bright tonight, enough to outline a man’s shadow leaning against the side of the mausoleum.
Damian.
He takes a puff of his cigar before disappearing from view.
Naturally, I follow him.
Too many questions still surround Zaina’s death, and his tale is so at odds with the version the king told. I can’t shake the feeling that there is more to Damian’s story, regardless of what he told Mother.
I follow the sound of his steps downward, deeper underground until I’m at the main hallway. Just ahead lies Mother’s throne room, but the small passage to the right leads to Damian’s quarters.
It suits him, dwelling down here in this dungeon of despair and decay.
A faint light under the door tells me that’s where he is, and I don’t bother knocking before letting myself into his room.
“Did you want something, street rat?” he asks from his seat by the fire.
Unwanted and cast off as he was, Damian is the son of a lord, something he never lets me forget.
“Indeed, I do,bastard.” My insult lands more solidly than his did.
His mangled features tighten in response, though he covers it quickly.
Moving over to the chair adjacent to his, I sit on the arm, with all of the casualness of someone who feels at home, even though being in Damian’s room or in his presence is the equivalent to swimming in the sewers with my mouth open.
“I have a few questions for you, ones I would have asked sooner, but I know that you weretied upfor a while. How does it feel to be out of the dungeons and back in the crypt, where you belong?” I bat my eyes in mock innocence. “Don’t you just love how Mother keeps you out here, away from the rest of the household. You know... like a dog?”
Damian stares at me, his cold, dead eyes giving nothing away, until the corner of his mouth lifts slightly.
“Oh, Aika.” He says my name condescendingly, pouring two glasses from a decanter of spirits. “How does it feel to know thatyouwill never truly be a part of her family? That you’ll never be anything more than the dirty orphan Mother brought home one day to replace the daughter she actually wanted. If someone here is the stray, it isn’t me.”
I take the proffered glass before he notices my clenched fists, hating that he’s turned the tables on me. Hating even more that I have no rebuttal for his words.
“And what makes you think that you are any different?”
Damian chuckles, a dry, humorless sound. “Once I prove my loyalty, she has promised to give Melodi to me. Then, I will be her son, in truth.” His expression unnerves me, but I keep my features neutral.
On the inside, my stomach drops and I’m not nearly as calm as I appear to be. I barely resist the urge to shatter the glass against his skull and grind the shards into his ruined flesh for daring to imagine that he could touch Mel, let alone marryher.
The hell he will.
His dark eyes follow my every move, waiting for me to call him on his bluff, or rather, waiting for me to challenge the truth of his words.
