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“I don’t either, but we don’t have a choice,” I tell him.
This is our only chance to end this.
Remy nods, the movement slow and reluctant. I can see him running through possibilities, alternatives, as he helps me into my cloak, but there isn’t one. We need things to look as normal as possible.
Pumpkin’s sounds of protest follow us out the door and down the hall, like he knows I’m going somewhere without him. He’ll get over it when he spends his day amongst Gisele’s baubles, though.
Remy’s entire body seizes when we reach the courtyard. The tall, broad figure of Damian is standing at the carriage door, dressed as a footman with a wicked gleam in his eye.
“No,” he growls, his gaze locked on to Damian’s.
It only makes my sadisticbrothergrin.
I don’t want to give Damian any excuse to hurt Remy, so I feign a nonchalance I don’t remotely feel, stretching up on my tiptoes to press a kiss to the corner of my husband’s mouth.
“See you soon, Husband Dearest,” I say, curling my mouth to form a smile.
He forces a grin out as well, grabbing my arm to wrench me back to him when I step away.
His hands skate up my neck, pulling me closer to press his lips against mine. His kiss is brief, but tender, holding every bit of the goodbye he isn’t saying out loud.
When he pulls away, his words are a whisper against my skin, echoing through me.
“Yes, you will.” He says it like an order and a promise all wrapped into one. “Be careful.”
I nod, meeting his eyes for several short breaths before turning around and entering the carriage at last.
Damian’s bitter scowl cuts off my line of sight to Remy as the brute follows me into the carriage and closes the door. He hits the back panel with his fist, an instruction for the driver to leave.
I remind myself that this plan will work. That this won’t be the last time I see my husband.
But I can’t shake the feeling that I’m lying, and for a change, I’m not even doing it particularly well.
CHAPTERFIFTY-EIGHT
ZAINA
When we left Jokith with a plan to take Madame down, I never actually imagined that we would wind up here, mere hours from being free of her.
If this works.
I’m certainly not the only one who is anxious. Khijhana’s tail twitches, either because she’s mirroring my mood or registering Einar’s concern for me.
Even my husband has lost a bit of his usual calm.
After silently pacing the length of the room for several minutes—something he manages in approximately three long strides—Einar finally takes a seat on the sofa. We’re locked away in the small, hidden room adjacent to the queen’s parlor where she will hold afternoon tea in a few short hours.
A gilded frame on the wall offers a screened view of the area where the maids are cleaning and setting up for later. Our silence is vital to keeping our presence a secret, and we can’t afford to speak above a whisper.
Einar pulls me down into his lap, sighing into my neck. I wrap an arm around him, pulling him closer and running my fingers through his hair, tracing the length of his braids in soothing patterns.
His concern isn’t only for me. He sent the twin guards, who are like family to him, off with Jean. Neither Helga nor Gunnar wanted to leave him, and he didn’t want them to go.
But though they are committed to his safety, they are committed to his happiness as well. He needs us both to be free of Madame, and we needed this subterfuge to work for even a chance at that.
So they went.
It was harder than I expected it to be, watching them leave. We’ve grown closer in the months since we left home, andsands, they’re my family now, too.
