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“He still destroyed lives.”
Her chest ached, knowing all too well about those destroyed lives.
“He was innocent,” she continued, hearing the hurt in her tone. Angry that it was coming out, she hauled it in. “Innocent, you asshole.”
For the first time, she glimpsed his hesitance.
“About what I said yesterday—”
“And trust me when I say he paid for it ten times when he was stuck in Hellhole with those demons,” she railed on, no longer able to stop. The words felt like a trainwreck rushing out of her, and she could feel her brother’s pain when he had finally been released from his torture. “He’s still paying for it, as are we, and we didn’t even do anything. We were as much in the dark as you were, not knowing that he was innocent until it was too late—agonized and horrified over what he had done. Sapphire suffered the most, but so did the others. We took it like champs, and you guys were just too busy blaming our family as a whole to see it.”
“Pearl—”
“And just because I can be a bitch doesn’t mean I’m made of fucking stone.”
Brown eyes widened. His body leaned toward her unconsciously.
“Pearl—”
“And just because I know how to live life and how to have fun doesn’t mean I don’t know when it’s time to get serious. My mission record is spotless, and I’m not easily manipulated, especially with the Council involved. I’m fucking proud of it and you can’t just dismiss it and make me feel like I’m such a lowlife. It’s foul of you to treatanyonethat way.”
“Pearl—”
“Also, I’m not a child you have to monitor. I know what I’m doing. I’ll get the job done because it’s my task. I’m not the goddamn criminal your grandmother wants to believe I am.”
“Pearl.”
The quiet command in his tone had her bracing.
“What?”
“Ryan wasn’t kidding. Sometimes I say things when I’m stressed. Usually, I end up not saying the right things.”
She blinked, the words sinking in slowly before something else did. She glanced around, recognizing the shimmer of the bubble circling them that prevented outsiders from hearing what they were talking about. Many witches and warlocks used it to keep their conversations private, but the terrible feeling that Henry was using it to keep her from getting embarrassed settled in her heavy stomach.
When he remained silent, she gulped, some of the drunkenness washing off. She also knew she had to get out of here before her indignant, heartfelt—stupid—speech spiraled into humiliation.
“Oh. Yeah, well, I’m glad that’s settled.”
“Pearl—”
“Goodnight, Mr. Lyra.”
“It’s Henry,” he corrected, and the astonishment of it had her almost stumbling. In the blink of an eye, he was there, steadying her and frowning. “Where are you going?”
Away from you. You’re a dangerous man.
“Home. I have some potions to finish.”
“I will—”
“And you willnotescort me home, sir.”
“Henry.”
“Whatever. No escorting. Or I will sock you.”
Pearl woke up with a headache, but also with the knowledge that she had been successful in her plan. Sure, there had been a drunken tirade and her threatening to sock Henry in her righteous anger, but she had a feeling that moment became an even stronger motivator for her to do what needed to be done. She drank a relaxing potion first, then solved her grumbling stomach with some food. Soon she was marching back into the enemy line, armed to the teeth and ready for whatever judgment was hurled her way.
