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“In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have coddled her so much. It would have been better for her if she was forced into reality, but instead, she just spiraled and declined.”
I listened attentively, trying to reconcile the fae I’d encountered under the table at the ball with the one he was describing. I had dismissed her panic as a response to what was unfolding around us, but Zen painted a different picture. It sounded like Cyndella had always been this way, even before the night of the attack.
“It was difficult to get her the help she needed when she wouldn’t let the healers in or go to the infirmary. I tried everything until I finally had to resort to sneaking concoctions into her food in order to get her to sleep.”
I pursed my lips, reserving judgement, but Zen seemed to see it, anyway.
“I know how that sounds,” he grumbled. “And I wasn’t happy about doing it. But she wasn’t sleeping, which was only enhancing her delusions. She was convinced the food was poisoned and refused to touch anything unless I was there eating with her. I had business to conduct in the kingdom and a full overhaul to complete. Taking care of Cyndella was a full-time job.”
My fingers tightened around his, the anguish mounting in his words. “Endora suggested I have her committed temporarily, sent away to a facility which specialized in cases specifically like Cyndella’s.”
I bit on my lower lip, wondering why he hadn’t, but again, he answered my question without my asking.
“I almost had Endora removed from the kingdom for her suggestion.”
Timidly, I cocked my head. “May I ask why? If Cyndella was in such desperate need of help you couldn’t give her, was it such a bad idea to turn her over to medical professionals who could?”
Zen scowled, his head turning fully toward me now. “I keep forgetting that you remember nothing of your life before here, but I must assume that you have a family somewhere, those who love and miss you, those who would do anything for you.”
Do I, though?
I smothered the urge to shudder, the unbidden memory resurfacing despite my best efforts to keep it down.
“Our father died when we were both teenagers, thrusting my mother into the role of queen alone. Although I was being groomed to be king, she had the crux of the responsibility until I came of age and was able to fully take on the role at twenty-five. Cyndella and I were often alone, left to entertain one another. We didn’t attend school like other children, of course, our lessons prepared by tutors.”
I had no recollection of going to school myself, but I didn’t offer this bit of empathy.
“Our bond is deeper than most siblings, I suppose, but Cyndella is my responsibility. She is more than the princess. She is my sister. It’s my job to take care of her—to stand by her no matter what a pain in the ass she can be at times.”
I did understand that, his need to save his blood. He had already shown the same propensity for saving me, and he barely knew me at all.
The SUV slowed as we neared the center of the city, Landon locating a parking spot near a shade of huge, hanging oak trees that blocked the mostly faded sun.
Dozens wandered through a courtyard park, couples chattering as they sat on park benches, watching over ice cream-devouring children who played on swing sets nearby.
“But Cyndella must be recovering,” I offered, ignoring the mounting anxiety inside when the vehicle stopped. “She went to that party.”
“I suspect that Endora put a spell on her and gave her a concoction, too,” Zen muttered, turning away. “She knew it was important for Cyndella to show herself there to show a united front for Silverhold.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say. I couldn’t fathom the responsibilities thrust upon Zen, the balance of power and family that kept him constantly on his toes.
“And that party set her back a year at least,” Zen sighed as Landon turned off the car and Calliver slipped out of the passenger side to let us out of the backseat. “She won’t come out of her room at all now.”
Zen waved them off, and the guards stood outside on the sidewalk instead, waiting for instructions.
“So you might say I have a pretty good sense for females,” he continued, and I realized that I was trapped now. He had me exactly where he wanted me, in a closed space and alone, unable to make any more excuses as he pivoted his head and stared straight into my eyes. “I know something’s bothering you today, Mirielle. What is going on?”
I considered brushing him off, but I also knew enough about Zen by now to know that we weren’t going anywhere until I told him the truth.
His hand clenched mine, and he stared at me urgingly. “For us to make this work, we can’t keep things from each other.”
“But how can we make this work?” I blurted out.
He drew back like I’d slapped him. “What?”
“I mean…” I drew in a breath. “I mean, how can we possibly go forward with… with whatever we’re doing here, Zen?”
His grip on my fingers loosened, and I realized I was speaking my mind poorly.
