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I can practically feel his hot breath on my neck, and I want to vomit. My gaze lands on the king, who is already looking at me with some concern. Fighting for composure, I focus on him and think of our conversation on the way in.
I can't say much for the man personally, but he has served my family for generations.
The king trusts this man against his better judgment, and I know it is a mistake, just as I know I have no way of telling him that without damning us all. Khijha’s body ripples, and I swear she grows another several inches as her lips curl back to display her metallic fangs.
I put a hand on her head, shushing her while my mind goes back in time.
Aika is maturing quickly. Each day she grows nearer to womanhood, my panic grows. I know that I cannot protect her any more than I could protect myself, any more than I protected Rose, but I have to try. I go to Madame's sitting room -- Mother, I correct myself. She refuses to be called anything else by us. Her ‘daughters’.
“Zaina, this is Dvain, Jokith’s most renowned alchemist.” Einar gestures toward the man, but his words sound far away.
Her sitting room is set up more like a throne room from where she holds court for all those who dare to win her favor.
"Whatever price you will fetch for her, I will get it for you another way." I keep my tone neutral as I approach, though sheer panic bubbles at the surface of my façade.
"You had such potential. It’s a shame you turned out to be such a stupid girl." Mother shakes her head. "And such a drama queen, at that. What I barter for your sister will be worth more than money. And honestly, it's one night. Why must you make such an issue out of every little thing?"
I am stunned into silence for a fraction of a second before fury rears its ugly head, edging out the fear I can never seem to move past with this woman.
"Little thing?" The words are barely a whisper.
Madame notices the tiniest shift in a person's emotions, and my anger is no small thing right now. She fixes me with a brutal stare that dares me to go on, and I belatedly tried to collect myself, but I can't seem to stop the words from pouring forth.
“My Lady.” Dvain steps forward, a grin stretching over his vulgar mouth. “What a pleasure to meet you in person. I’ve read so much about you from your aunt’s letters, it feels like I know you already.”
"What did you get in exchange for me?" I had only ever dared ask that question one time, and she had been vague.
But this time, she smiles, like the memory makes her happy even now.
"For you, my dear, insolent, wretched girl, I received something no amount of money could buy. Loyalty."
I had never truly understood what Madame meant that day, and she had refused to explain any more. But I think of how it has taken one of the world's most renowned alchemists seventeen years to find a cure for a poison he has access to the source of.
And whatever Einar is paying him, I know that money is no object for this vile creature, nor much of a motivator. No, he takes his rewards in an entirely different fashion, one that the king I have come to know would die before offering him.
Dvain stretches out a hand for mine, and Khijha’s jaw opens wider in a hiss. His beady eyes narrow ever so slightly, his mustache twitching under his sharp, long nose as he chuckles under his breath.
“Does it?” I force the words out, breathing as much calm into them as I can muster while placing a comforting hand on Khijhana instead. “Sorry for my cat. She’s not too fond of strangers.”
Einar shoots me a look, but I ignore it. I ignore everything and will myself to imagine scenes of the death I promised myself I would give this perverted monster. Instead of the way he’d robbed me of whatever innocence I’d had left. Instead of the way he cut into my flesh, one shallow, stinging slice after another.
He had taken everything from me that night, things I can never get back.
Dvain breaks his eye contact and turns back to Einar, patting him on the back in congratulations for the match.
I let out a shaky, silent breath when they are no longer looking at me.
What the hell do I do now?
Chapter Forty-Five
Einar leans over the small table with Dvain while Gunnar stands guard at the door. Every part of me wants to run or slit the man's throat, but that’s not what I’m here for. Not yet.
I approach the men, standing at the opposite side of the table from them. They’re examining several vials and notes and some of Dvain’s personal journals.
“So, no more of the petals have fallen?” he asks, and Einar shakes his head.
I paste a look of polite confusion on my face to cover the torrent of emotions I am only barely controlling. Because seeing this man again, unexpectedly, is its own sort of hell. And then there are the petals.
