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The queen smiled through her tears and even released a chuckle. “Attagirl.” Her arm circled her daughter’s shoulders, and they walked together back to the castle.
I trailed behind, realizing that Harlow was right, that her mother’s relief masked her need for revenge.
“Where’s Father?” Harlow asked.
“He left yesterday to search for you. Hasn’t returned.”
“Is there a way we could send a missive?”
“I’ll send word to HeartHolme. Hopefully they can get him the message.”
We stopped in front of the castle, and Queen Rolfe only had eyes for her daughter, who had inherited her soft features and the color of her hair. I seemed to be forgotten—until Harlow looked at me.
The queen followed her gaze and stared at me, and instantly, that warmth was replaced by a coldness that rivaled the storm we’d just faced. But she said nothing, her sharp gaze piercing me like the sword in her belt. She didn’t order the guards to take me away. Had no retaliation whatsoever.
Harlow was the one who stepped forward, and the pissed-off look on her face matched the swelling anger in her heart. “As Princess of Delacroix, I sentence you to a five-year imprisonment in our dungeon, punishment for your deceit and malice.”
The guards started to converge, but my eyes were locked on hers, shocked that she’d lied to me—and did it so effortlessly. “All we have in this world is our word, and yours is now worthless.”
“I won’t kill you.”
“But you promised me something—”
“You’ll have your ship once your sentence is completed. My word is ironclad, but you failed to hash out the details. You feared my father, when you should have feared me. I’m my father’s daughter—and I’ve inherited his vengeance, his rage, and his malice.”
I let the guards take me, looking into her beautiful face with a mixture of anger and respect.
“Now you know exactly how I felt when you used me—like a fool.” She gestured to the guards. “Take him away.”
19
HARLOW
Once I had a shower and a full meal, I felt like myself again. My hair was soft and shiny, and the clothes I wore were clean and dry. Sunlight came through my open window, the comforts of home surrounding me after a cruel journey.
My mother tapped her knuckles against the open door before she stepped inside. “Feel better?”
“A lotbetter.”
She sat on the couch beside me, her smile warm but her eyes broken. “I was so worried…” Her hand rested on mine.
I turned my palm and grabbed her fingers. “I know.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No.”
“Did he…?” She didn’t finish the question.
“No.”
She breathed a sigh of relief, her eyes on the ground. “Then what did he want?”
“He made a deal with the Teeth. I was his bargaining chip.”
“What did he want from them?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
