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I don’t budge. A knot squeezes in my chest. “She said you did.”
“Then she lies.” He scoffs and wrinkles his brow. Shadows carve deep lines across his forehead. “I did not speak with her. Did I contemplate it after that discussion? Yes, I did. Then I considered that perhaps she was using you as well to climb in rank —”
“She’d never do that.” The response snaps out, and I can only blink at him. I have no excuse for saying it. No reason to still care. No reason to feel onesliverof protectiveness over her.
So why do I?
“Regardless.” He waves a hand as if shooing away an insect. “If she had been, as I suspected then, you would have deserved the trickery for treating her with the same selfish disregard. So I decided to leave you to your own consequences to teach you a lesson of wit and desire.” He holds my gaze a moment longer and shakes his head. “Come now, Kirran. She’s half-human. Humans lie. You know this.”
I grind my teeth so hard my jaw aches. “I know that she repeated theexactwords you used.”
For the first time in the conversation, uncertainty pulls at his face. Just as quickly, he holds out both palms, giving a bewildered shrug. “I can’t explain that, Kirran. Perhaps she overheard us. Or maybe one of her friends did.”
My gut clenches at the prospect. If she heard us speaking and thought it was true — and as poorly as she viewed herself back then, of course she’d think it was true — then maybe that was why. Maybe that explains everything.
“But you asked me if I spoke with her, and the answer is no. I never saw her, spoke with her, or anything of the like.” He squares his shoulders. “Now. You will return to the ball and resume your search for a bride. You have three nights only, Kirran. Don’t waste tonight excavating or fantasizing about the past. Choose a woman and get on with your life. If you need some help determining what to look for, I’d be glad to introduce you to some of the most advantageous matches. Or, if you’d rather I choose for you, I can manage that as well.”
Without another word, he spins on his heel and strides back into the amber glow beyond the doors. I take a moment to steady my breathing and brace myself to see her again, then head the other way, toward the balcony where I left her.
Naturally, she’s not there anymore.
I return to the ballroom, ascend the dais, and sweep my gaze over the area. With no coves or inlets, I can see everyone in attendance, including the seductresses in red and gold. Everyone except Reena, Harran, and Alia.
She’s gone.
I shouldn’t care. It shouldn’t matter. I should be relieved she’s out of the ballroom, that I’m in no danger of coming into close proximity with her again tonight. I should put the past behind me, bury it in the grave it belongs in, and forget she exists. Forget her excuses, her lies, her voice, her face, the way her hand felt in mine, the way she used to giggle against my kiss whenever I joined her in our garden meeting spot and spun her around.
I should let her go. Let it all go. I want to. So much of me wants to.
But I can’t.
Seven years of telling myself I don’t need answers, of carving her betrayal into my heart until I finally felt nothing — all unraveled in one moment by seeing tears in her eyes.
All because she looked at me as ifI’dhurther.
* * *
The remaining hours of the masquerade pass in torturous strides. I can’t focus on anyone else who comes over to speak with me. It likely doesn’t matter. They’re all there for the same reason anyway. I do notice the gold-clad woman from earlier with Zeccar’s wife, finally connecting her in my mind as his daughter. Sovanna, he’d said. And the woman in the red dress stands too long with Alia’s stepmother to be anything but one of hers. Whether it’s Devikka or Vallda, I’m not sure. The fact that I remember their names and still dislike all three members of that family grates on my nerves.
At the first stroke of twelve, I spin to leave. By the third stroke, I’m out in the hallway, in the dim light. By the final stroke, I can’t hear the hubbub beyond my footsteps. Several turns later, my door stands before me.
The thud of it behind me settles something in my gut. I lean back against the thick wood and exhale.
My room sprawls out before me. A reprieve or a prison. Perhaps both.
The only light shines in from the lamps in the garden below. Closing the curtains requires me going over to the windows, and if I go to the windows, I’ll search for her among the flowers and bushes. Not worth risking it. I don’t bother with anything else, just undress by the muted glow, slip into my more comfortable trousers and a loose shirt, and slump under the covers.
My bed is at once too soft and too lumpy. I stare at the canopy above me, cleared of the cobwebs but still enchanted to mimic a starry sky. Having slept under the stars more than a few times during the war, it’s close enough to the real thing to disorient me. I could trick myself, pretend I’m still there. Where life ripples with tension and can explode into violence at any moment but at least makes sense. Where pomp is stripped away and only survival matters.
But here… What matters here? Impressing the council members? Indulging flattery? Gossip? Feigning interest in those who seek to use me for their own benefit?
The last time I was here, I had my brothers. Guards I considered friends. Cousins. And best of all, a sweet, beautiful girl who always listened and tried to understand and so often offered a new way to view things.
Now, there is only the yawning coldness of a room I’ve both outgrown and feel so very small inside of.
And forest curse it, I can’t get her face out of my head. Whether I close my eyes or stare at the false stars, I see her. Those eyes, glittering with tears, aching with — with what? Betrayal? Confusion?
The bitter hurt and frustration in her voice singe my nerves.
