Page 82

Toggling them open, I’m rewarded with Silla’s smile. Damn, I could get used to being favored with it.

“Since I was eight,” she says absently.

Eyes darkening, I find I want to know everything about this. Except I’m not her psychiatrist, and pushing too hard could ruin any good will I’m garnering.

“That’s a very long time to be afraid,” I say instead, my voice sounding rough from the anger I’m feeling.

Shrugging, Silla looks around the greenhouse as she walks and I follow.

“Eventually you get used to the clawing anxiety,” she tells me. None of this makes me feel better, and I want to beat the shit out of myself.

I know Andrya is repentant of what happened, but she doesn’t know how to talk to Silla. She stayed with her the entire time the girl was in the wall, and Ayden mentioned to me that his twin isn’t sleeping well.

“Do you get used to it, or do you allow it to change you?” I ask. “I’m used to being a psychopathic narcissist, but should I continue to be?”

Turning to face me, Silla places her hand on her hip, tossing her hair. Here, she’s more relaxed, and a part of me wishes she could always be like this.

How the hell did this girl end up here? There are many people who deserve to be indentured to the queen for the rest of their lives for their crimes, but I can usually recognize them. That’s not the case with Silla.

“You can be whatever you want,” she tells me with a shrug. “Be a gaslighting asshole, don’t be. Choose a side, and follow the path to stay there. I’ll always bear the scars of my childhood, I can’t change that.”

I want to touch her so fucking bad, so I indulge in the need, rubbing the end of her hair. Godsdamnit, it’s exactly as soft as I thought it would be.

“You have a family. Did no one protect you?” I ask. Unfortunately, my aunt wasn't able to protect me from becoming who I am. She tried her best to raise me, but my father did some serious damage before he died.

“They’re the ones who did this,” Silla chuckles without mirth, moving away.

I allow her the illusion of space as she walks through the greenhouse. The Warden asked that black roses be planted and grown here too, and I’ve heard rumors that they’re sent into the city to be sold.

I don’t know how true this is, except Ayden said that there’s a rose called The Criminal’s Redemption that costs a pretty penny now being sold. The Warden is a smart man, and the Queen is known to cut costs as a form of punishment. Ayden helped cultivate this pretty flower, marketed it, and brought in the prison’s own form of income.

It’s also why we all throw in our weight when the auditors or Queen’s staff shows up. Many of the FRC staff’s survival depends on this place continuing to thrive and exist.

I would really like to keep my head on my shoulders.

“Are these… why roses?” Silla asks, leaning over to sniff them carefully.

“They are. Be careful what you smell in the greenhouse, it’s also where we grow our plants for our poisons,” I tell her truthfully. As she looks up at me startled, I shrug. “It’s why I’m here so often. If you want to help me take care of them, I wouldn’t be against that. It would mean you’d be able to be outside more often.”

I don’t know why I’m offering, but if she agrees, it’ll mean I’ll have a real chance to get to know her. She clearly enjoys spending time already with Ayden if she was in his room, and Andrya will have to figure things out with Silla.

“I would really like to be outside more,” she breathes, straightening, her head leaning back to let the sunlight hit her face.

Typically the light is filtered a bit more when the skylights are closed, but for now Silla can soak up the fresh air.

“Any buts?” I ask, waiting to hear that she doesn’t want to spend time with me.

“Are you waiting for me to say that I don’t want to spend time with you?” Silla asks, facing me. “I don’t know you outside of a cruel, beautiful man who stands at the front of a classroom and makes people dance to his own special tune.”

“You think I’m beautiful?” I ask, latching on the compliment, lifting my hand to caress her jaw with my thumb.

“You know good and well that you are,” Silla scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Eyes like emeralds, muscles upon muscles, but just plain cruel. Did you hold a magnifying glass up to ants to see if they’d burn?”

“No, that was always Ayden,” I immediately deny. She shrugs, and I realize he may have told her a bit about this. It’s not my story to tell, I won’t. The Fucked Up Trio, as much as we like to tear the wings from others, protect each other. “I like to see how far I can push others before they break. Everyone has a price, and they’ll push past their own morals and expectations if it means it’ll save themselves.”

“Pretty words for distasteful actions.” Silla sighs. “There’s no love lost between you three and the rest of the world, and the way you behave is selfish and petty.”

“We’re bored,” I reveal. “The three of us have been here for five years, teaching the same shit on a different day. So we found ways to spice things up, keep my balls drained, and keep the Queen happy. It always felt like a win.”