Chap

Then who, little beact?” its tates a step toward me. “Are you implying the invitation sent itselfy

I shake my head frantically.

“Someone must have done it.”

“Who cares enough about you to do something like that?” His body is too close to mine–close enough that grabbing my cheeks and digging his fingers into them takes no effort. “Look at me.”

“I don’t know, I don’t know who did this,”

He studies me—I know he is. I know he’s reveling in the moisture that fills my eyes, though I refuse to let it fall. I will never give him my tears.

“Let’s say I believe you.” His voice is velvet. “What would you do for them?”

“Anything,” I say without thinking.

“Anything?” He doesn’t need a second confirmation. “Then let me into your mind.”

“I don’t know how to do that.” His grip on my cheeks doesn’t ease and it hurts. “I can’t give you that if I don’t know how.b” /b

His jaw tightens, and I can see a muscle twitch.

“You’ll give up the stupid idea of visiting Ciro’s vi.”

“Is that what you want?”

“For now.”

“I won’t visit Ciro’s vi.”

He releases my face and I don’t get a chance to add anything before he turns around and walks out of the hall toward the main entrance. I run after him, not caring if I stain or tear the hem of my dress. We step out onto thending that leads to the main stairs. I rub my arms with my hands, hoping to warm myself despite the cold air of early February.

Or maybe it’s just the fear that’s seeped into my bones.

The servant was being generous calling that carriage–it’s more like a battered cart pulled by an old horse. My father and brother are the first I see, seated in the front holding the reins, and then my eyes go to the back, where my mother and Abigail sit covered by a nket. Despite that, they have radiant smiles on their faces. I don’t wait for them to stoppletely before rushing down the steps to meet them. I throw myself into my mother’s arms as soon as I can and inhale the scent of home, which I hadn’t realized had its own fragrance.

“Mama…”

I feel her hand patting my back as she sniffles. We pull away from each other, her eyes teary, mine overwhelmed with emotion.

“My precious girl… you look radiant.”

I suppress a sadugh. Abigail ims my attention with a hug, and I return it instantly. I hug her small body tightly and y with her copper curls. It feels like she’s grown while I’ve been away–or maybe it’s my imagination and everything’s just the same.

“iYou /ilook like a princess, ra.”

b1/3 /b

“Notisenar you’re the preve

Her honey colored pyes shine with sweltement 1 pinch her cheek, earning a gap toothed gri

Attend he’s taking care of you property”

recognize sitas‘ voice and turn to him, throwing myself into his strong arms, which don’t hesitate to hold me tight. He spins me in the air, and I no longer feel cold–only the warmth of being reunited with my family. His raspyugh echines in my ear, and I don’t know how long passes before I feel the ground under my feet again and his hand ruffles my hair like I’m still a little girl.

“You look good,” he notes.

“I’m fine.”

“I’m d, because if not…”

A throat clears, cutting the conversation. We turn toward the terrifying Cassian, who watches all of us with those analytical, cold eyes that miss nothing. My father, whom I haven’t even spoken to yet, squeezes my hand and then, as head of the family, steps forward to shake Cassian’s hand.

“Thank you for inviting us. That was very kind of you. I know this isn’t very conventional, but my wife and I are truly grateful.”

Cassian’s hands are gloved in leather as he shakes my father’s hand, as if touching his skin would be unthinkable. I notice tension bin /bhis posture–more than usual–and I assume he’s making a great effort not to voice one of his typical remarks about the human race.

“If you’lle in, the castle servants will show you to your rooms and dinner will be sent up. You must be hungry.”

My father says something in response, but it’s what my brother whispers in my ear that grabs my full attention.

“Will it be human food or are they serving us dripping raw meat?”

I’m about to warn him that Cassian can hear everything when he proves it himself.

“I believe your sister has noints about the food I provide her.”

Ss presses his lips together, and everything about him oozes the same hatred I feel for Cassian–though, is that really true? Cassian heads back inside to give us some privacy. My father hugs me and kisses my cheeks, tells me how much he misses me and how empty the house feels without me. I don’t know why, but my mind can’t fully believe my absence is felt anywhere. After all, can someone who is empty really fill anything with their presence?

The airing from our mouths turns into little clouds of vapor, and that bes the main reason we end up going inside. Honestly, if ! could, I’d send them back to Ravag. I’m terrified that they’re here, and no amount of warmth in my heart from seeing them can outweigh the cold in my bones from the fear of what might happen in a ce filled with threats.

“Please follow me,” one of the servants says.

My mother’s fingers intertwine with mine.

“Come with us. You have so much to tell.”

I pat her hand.

“You should rest. It’s been a long journey. We’ll talk then.”

She looks hesitant, and in everyone’s eyes is a question they don’t dare ask: Why aren’t you as happy as we expected? They don’t bknow /bbthis/b. visit isn’t normal. It never should’ve happened–and that frightens me. Finally, my father talks some sense into my mother and they bwalk /b

wway, climbing the exile up and disappearing into the many w

I heart to my chambers, wondering if I should seek out Castian to talk about all that I don’t need to think Inng he’s already found me. He’s

teaning apaine the wall across from hy door, ese knee bent, arms crossed. The ck shirt clings to his body, outlining every muerte and making him took like the threat he is. With his strength, he could crush my bones without effort. Then again, he wouldn’t need to touch me

remember the pile of flesh and organs he reduced that poor girl to at the ball. What did he do? Just fick his hand in the air. That’s all that

separates me from bing a heap of blood and tissue at his feet.

“What are you doing here?”

“What a way to speak to someone who just did you a favor.”

“I don’t consider it a favor,” I reply.

True–it’s a gift.”

I close thest few steps to my door, lean back against it, and face him.

“Two days,” he adds.

“What?”

“Two days is the time I gift you with your family, ra.”

“Will there be consequences?”

“A giftes without consequences–usually.”

“Why? Why are you giving me time with my family?”

I feel a lump forming in my throat–emotions I don’t want to let out, not in front of him. He uncrosses his arms, sighs with a hint of resignation, and takes a few steps toward me, closing the distance. I feel a third presence in the hallway: an electric tension filling the space

between our bodies.

“Because the rest of your time will be mine.”

I look into his features and find doubts that mirror my own. We’re falling apart–and that cannot happen. As if he sees the same thing I do, he turns and disappears down the hallway, running from feelings disguised as hatred–but that are looking less and less like hate. Or maybe it’s a furious passion, one no one will win–and that, without a doubt, will hurt us both.

bAD /b

Comment