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Slipping out of the car, I take a deep breath of fresh air. I’m not free, but I’m outside, even if it’s just for a moment. The six hour drive brought us into windy conditions, and the clouds are gathered now, threatening to dump onto my head. Happy fucking birthday.

“Oh, Drizella?” Lana calls out of the now open window after I’ve taken a few steps.

Turning to look at her over my shoulder, I can see the evil in her eyes. “You’re twenty-six now. Cinder can legally execute you after she has her fun with you,” she says. The double meaning makes me shudder. There’s been a gleam of attraction in my step-sister’s eyes that I don’t think I noticed before.

I don’t know when it developed, but I loathe it. There are days I wish she had let my body scar from the damage and atrocities the guards leveled on me, instead of allowing the healers into my cell to ensure my skin would heal perfectly. “I’m aware,” I rasp, pitching my voice so she’ll hear it, even with the wind pulling my words away.

Lana is hanging out of the car as she speaks to me, and inclines her head when she hears my words. “Perfect. Happy birthday, my lovey. Off you go,” she says, repeating my words back.

The ick factor is high right now. I do not want to be her anything. Swallowing hard, I start walking toward the steel entrance.

My hair is up in a braided bun, but I can feel the wind pulling strands of hair from it, begging it to play. I wish I could, but I’m a dour diplomat for the queen today.

There’s a doorbell that I never noticed by the heavy door, so as the wind almost topples me over, I press it. This weather is insane today. Figures that it would be on my birthday. I’m having a hard time remembering a single happy birthday since my mother married Marcus Tremaine. It’s possible I’ve never had one at all.

The door begins to open, forcing me to step back. My dress swirls around my ankles, that shade of blue that will always be the worst color in the Rolodex of blues.

“May I help you?” asks a woman that I don’t know. She’s in a gray skirt and white shirt, and it makes me wonder if she’s one of the secretaries. Cinder cleaned house at the reform camp, so I wouldn’t be surprised if I don’t recognize a single person.

“Yes, I’m Drizella Tremaine, and I’m here to speak to the Warden on behalf of the Queen,” I explain. The woman takes in my outfit, and her eyes flit over to the official looking sedan with all of the windows blacked out. Lana closed her window at some point, so there’s no way for the woman to know who else is inside.

“Oh… Is he expecting you?” she asks, her face draining of color. It’s almost as if she’s trying to figure out what to do next. “Is anyone coming in with you?”

“It’s just me,” I tell her carefully, really hoping that Lana will stay in the damned car. She promised Cinder that she would. This is going to be hard enough as it is, coming back from the dead.

Cinder took great glee in telling me about how Andrya and my men grieved for me. Gods, I don’t even know if I can call them mine anymore. So much has changed since the last time I stood in front of this door.

“Yes, Ma’am. I’m his secretary, and I’ll take you to him. Please follow me, then,” she murmurs, opening the door wide to admit me. Stepping inside reminds me of the terror of the unknown that I had when I was here for the first time almost a year and a half ago.

It’s incredible how much can happen in that amount of time.

The clicking of my heels on the tile draws stares as I walk across FRC to the Warden’s office. My navy dress skims across the floor, another reason why I need heels, so I won’t trip on it. Cinder despises clumsiness, so she taught me how to be aware of my surroundings in her own twisted way. Whether it’s dark or bright in a room, I have cat-like reflexes, but they cost me a lot of bumps, and bruises, and once she threw me into the soldiers barracks just outside of town.

Holding back a shiver at the memories that threaten to wash over me, I package them away. I can survive anything for thirty seconds at a time. And then I’ll start the timer in my head again.

The secretary frowns as she sees that Grayson is standing outside of his office talking to someone. Cinder mentioned that I may have trouble convincing him because he’s become extra grumpy lately. Barking at assets, ruling with an iron fist, and he’s been leaving his office less. I imagine the latter is because it’s four months into the next rotation of assets, and the Queen is demanding audits to see how things are going.

She’s a master of twisting the facts, and one of the reasons my hands are shaking with anxiety and terror. I’m worried they’ll hate me. Sure, Cinder charged them secretly with treason, but the true reason is that she doesn’t want to see me happy. My lot is to forever be under her thumb, so she can watch me writhe in distress and humiliation.

Everything that happened really was because I exist.

Steeling my spine, I force myself to breathe. My anxiety is getting better because I can hold only the small amount of good memories I do have. I can do this because there’s no other choice.

“Warden, there’s a Miss Drizella Tremaine here to see you,” the secretary says.

“Don’t be silly,” Grayson snaps at her, glancing up. The woman shrugs, pointing at me. Eyes moving to me, the man pales. I almost take a step forward to catch him in case he falls over, but that’s ridiculous. Due to his size, we’d only collapse together. “Oh, I see.”

“Hello, Warden. I’m here about the Queen’s business today,” I tell him. There’s a small wrinkle between his eyes as he listens to me. His feet are planted to keep him upright, but anyone else would just see the gruff, fair, burly Warden. I see more, though. I always have. “Can we speak in private?”

“Yes, I expect that we’ll need to,” he murmurs. “I’m unavailable for a bit, Laura. Please ensure that no one disturbs us. I don’t care if you have to sit outside of this door and shoo people away. Is that understood?”

“But…” Grayson levels a death stare at Laura, who takes a quick step away from him. He has changed. He wasn’t quite this quick to react before. “I’ll go grab a chair.”

Laura scurries away, and Grayson strides into his office, leaving me to follow. My heart is pounding at the thought of being in a room with him. What will he say? It’ll break my heart when he tells me that he and the other four people who have my heart, hate me.

My foot snags on the carpet, but I lift it quickly so it’s not obvious that I almost tripped. I remember my lessons well, and I can’t fuck this up. Grayson needs to accept my proposal.

“Close the door behind you, please, Drizella,” the Warden says as he makes his way to his desk.