Destonne put a hand to his chest and shook his head. A trickle of blood streamed down his temple from the crown. “Mock you? I wouldnever.”
The humour and unwelcome playfulness in his voice made her withdraw and crave time alone with her thoughts and darkness. She was done with his games. All she needed was to retrieve her memories from the Hollow, find Shade, and sort out this prophecy. Then she could leave this place and finally settle somewhere she could call home. Unfortunately, her pactum with Destonne was the only way forward.
“Go away,” Emmery grumbled.
“Sharp words for such a delicate flower.” His eyes glimmered with the promise of trouble. But just because she had to tolerate him didn’t mean she couldn’t strike back.
“You want sharp words?” She turned to him, her eyes molten. “Leave methe fuckalone.”
Amused, he clutched his chest. “Ah, a clean shot through the heart.” Emmery stared at him. Had she missed something?
He stood, brushed the dirt from his trousers, and dipped his head. “As you wish. I’ll update you shortly on the plan.”
Even his fucking bow was patronizing.
As she watched him retreat toward the castle, a line fromThe Nameless Bookwhispered through her mind.When right and wrong fail, the truth does not falter.It was a quote she recited at times when everything blurred to grey. When she’d entirely losther way and sought light at the end of a seemingly infinite, dark tunnel.
In her weeks here, one truth had sunk into her soul: with or without the King’s help, she would fulfill this prophecy, save the people of Karynthia, and find Shade.
And under no circumstance would she falter.
The rose sat beside her for a long while until she reluctantly picked it up and shucked off the thorns with her dagger.
It didn’t have to be a white flag. It could simply be a flower.
That’s what she assured herself as she tucked it beneath her pillow, and fought sleep that night, pretending the rose was from Shade, not the King of Thorns.
CHAPTER FOUR
VESPER
Since he was a young man, Vesper’s distaste for Scarlet Palaces had only grown. Between the dingy wallpaper, the red-lit rooms, and dead-eyed women awaiting their call, they were as unsavoury a place as they came. During his servitude to that bastard, Destonne, he’d been stationed in Malheim to tend to crying children in the filthy streets, investigate robberies, and aid those seeking refuge in the plentiful supply of Bone Ash. But after witnessing so many atrocities, he needed release. Needed an outlet.
At first, he promised himself it would be a one-time thing, a moment of weakness; but as time went on, he frequentedthe Palace more often than he cared to admit. He knew it had become more than a small problem when they greeted him by name at the door, even with his alias and his hood drawn.
He’d lost count of how many times he’d assured himself he would stop. The desire grew like an itch under his skin and burrowed into his brain like a worm into soil. He wanted to stop, he just … couldn’t. Not yet.
Thank the gods his father couldn’t see him now.
Though he’d fled to Malheim and sought his usual room in the Scarlet Palace, today’s visit felt different. He lay sprawled on the bed in only his undershorts, Nefeli tucked against him. She fanned her golden hair across the pillow then skimmed her hand up and down his torso. His skin pebbled under her fingertips, but also pointed to an unnamed, roaring desire that touch couldn’t fill. And it remained empty. Always empty.
With each heavy breath, her full breasts rose and fell, her nipples peaked. A small smile tugged at his mouth when she giggled. He fucking loved that sound. If he could make her laugh or smile at least once in his time with her, it was a good day.
In the past, he’d sampled the other Scarlet men and women, but Nefeli was who he preferred by far, enough that he’d permanently reserved her. He’d proposed the arrangement long ago, and though he was sure her Master had stolen the choice from her, she never seemed displeased by their time together.
In some deranged pocket of his mind, he believed he’d saved her, though he knew it was utter nonsense. At least this way she couldn’t be overworked or hurt by some creep, and every time he took her to bed, he always gave her the choice to participate. He swore he’d always give her that choice.
Once Scarlets took the blood bond, only their death could sever it, since their oaths were transferable if their Master passed away. Nefeli’s former Master was a particularly nasty man: tall, thin, and weasel faced with pale greasy hair andan insatiable hunger for slate. He’d died suddenly a couple months back, but the ownership was passed to his handsier son, preoccupied with the Scarlets to the point of obsession. They were his investments after all and gods forbid he think of them as people. And Vesper didn’t fucking trust the guy. In fact, he took every opportunity he could to glare at the prick.
Vesper drew himself from his thoughts as he ran his tongue along his bottom lip. He could still taste her there. Still hear her soft sounds in his head. His eyes followed the curves of her body, the deep slope of her waist that fit perfectly in his hands, her creamy skin, and the long sultry legs he’d become intimately acquainted with, particularly slung over his shoulders. She was undoubtedly gorgeous and he should have been swept away by his time with her, but it just wasn’t what he needed. Was it the lack of connection? No,fuck. He couldn’t explain it, but there was always something missing.
One of her hands threaded through his hair and her other gripped his forearm. As she drew him closer, her eyes locked on his battered knuckles lit only by the dim light peeping through the shrouded window.
Her brows drew together as she ran her fingertip along the raw skin atop his hand where Briar had meticulously plucked out the mirror shards.
“I thought your cheek was bad. What happened?” she breathed.
He shivered from her featherlight touch. “Had a bit of an accident.” The lie rolled easily off his tongue.