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“You’re a monster,” Mia bit out.
“No. I merely gave birth to one.” The corner of her pink lips lifted. “Five, actually.”
Mia’s rage was hot, but oddly muted.
Iris grew contemplative. “You defend Grayson so fiercely, but do you even know the things he’s done? What he is? He’s a legend. A nightmare. His name carries a terror that brings men, women, and children crashing to their knees. In the other kingdoms, his name is whispered for fear of summoning his demonic presence.Thatis who you love.”
Mia’s skin felt too warm. “Grayson is no monster.”
“He’s a killer.”
“Only because he was forced to become one.” Her chin lifted. “You will never change my opinion of him.”
“You are so naive. It's a miracle Grayson doesn’t already resent you, but someday he will. How could he not? After everything he has suffered for you, he has every right to curse your name. If you died, I think a part of him would be relieved. Because once you were dead, Henri would have no more reason to hurt him.”
Mia stiffened. The words cut deeply, because they followed her own thoughts and fears. He may indeed resent her one day, for all he’d suffered because of her—all he’d had to do. She was his weakness, and everyone grew to despise their weaknesses.
Devastation hit her. Grief tried to drown her. Her head swam with the smell of those flowers.
Iris drew back slightly in her chair. “Are you manipulating Grayson?”
“No.” The answer just fell out of her.
“You have no desire to use him for some purpose?”
“No.”
“Do you love Tyrell?”
“I—I care about him.” Fates, what was wrong with her? Why was she answering these questions?
“Are you manipulating Tyrell?” Iris asked.
Guilt soured in her belly. “Yes.”
The queen leaned forward in her chair. “How are you manipulating him?”
“I—” Mia clamped her mouth shut.
“There’s no use in fighting it,” Iris told her softly. “The faersin in your system will continue to lower your inhibitions and you’ll be compelled to answer me honestly. You will want to please me above all else.”
Mia’s stomach dropped. “But . . . I didn’t drink anything.”
“It wasn’t in the tea. It’s coated on the flowers you’re breathing.”
Her eyes darted to the pink flowers on the table. The sickly-sweet scent turned her stomach, and she tried to push out of her chair, but her arms and legs trembled, unable to hold her up.
“Faersin weakens the body along with your mental and emotional defenses,” Iris explained. “At the moment, your body probably feels very heavy. You won’t be able to walk away, even if you wanted to. Which I assure you, you won’t. You’ll want to answer my questions, and you won’t lie to me.”
Panic clutched her chest, but even that felt terrifyingly muted. “But . . . you . . .”
“You think I’ll be impacted?” Iris tapped her nose. “I applied Savint Oil before this meeting. I’m quite unaffected. So, tell me—how are you manipulating Tyrell?”
The supplies under the bed. The escape plan—
“Escape,” Mia whispered. Her voice trembled, but the words still came. “I want . . . to escape.”
“And you thought Tyrell would help you leave the castle?”
