Page 79 of Daggermouth

“Your father,” Shadera said, a statement rather than a question.

“Maximus Serel is a monster,” Lira confirmed, and Greyson felt a chill at the simple declaration. “And he’s using all of us as pieces in whatever game he’s playing. So perhaps we can set aside our mutual distaste long enough to ensure we all survive it.”

Silence fell over the kitchen. Shadera studied Lira for a long moment, her expression smooth, unreadable.

“You said there were other things you needed to talk about. What are they?” Shadera finally asked.

Lira glanced at Greyson, as if gaging his reaction before answering. “The Vow ceremony is in four days, tonight’s dinner is meant to test you. It’s for my father to see how far he can push you before you snap so he will know your limits publicly. Do not show him anything.” Greyson saw the nervous tic in her jaw before she spoke the next words. “You’re about to step into a world that is crueler than you could ever imagine. Talk to Greyson. Talk to each other. Make sure you understand what to expect so you are not blindsided.”

Shadera’s back straightened. “What do you mean?”

“You two need to talk, really talk.” Lira pushed away from the counter, lifting the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll have appropriate clothing delivered before dinner.” She paused for only a beat, looking to Greyson. “Walk me out, brother?”

Greyson nodded once, escorting Lira toward the door without looking back at Shadera. He waited, biting his tongue until they had stepped outside the door and it closed behind him.

“Why would you say that to her?” he snapped, turning to Lira as they waited for the elevator. “Do you realize how angry she is going to be? And it’s not subtle anger, Li. It’s ‘slice my throat while I sleep and stab me in the heart’ kind of anger.”

Lira didn’t turn to look at him until the elevator doors slid open and she stepped inside. Greyson put his hand on the frame, forcing the doors to stay open until she gave him an answer.

“It doesn’t matter how much I hate her, Grey, she deserves to know what happens to the women here after the Vow and she needs to hear it coming from you. If you want her on our side, if you want her to trust us, you have to tell her. If you don’t, there will be no chance of her ever telling us anything.”

Greyson stared at her for a long moment. He knew she was right. Knew that the truth would be easier to swallow coming from him—but it was a truth he still hadn’t accepted himself. His hand fell from the doors’ pathway and Lira disappeared behind them as they swept shut. His reflection stared back at him in the glass, and for one breath he considered running.

Chapter eighteen

Thank You

Shaderastoodbeforethemirror, turning the mask in her hands. Beautiful and macabre. A Daggermouth symbol brought into the heart of her enemy’s world. She hated that she loved it.

Her fingers traced the contours of the cheekbones, the hollow of the eyes, the curve where the nose would be. It was exquisite craftsmanship, far more detailed than anything she’d expected them to give to her.

A gift. She’d never been given anything before. Everything in the Boundary always came at a price. She supposed that this would too.

“Fuck,” she muttered to her reflection.

In the Boundary, faces were weapons, identities were armor. To cover yourself was to admit fear, to tell the world that you were a coward. But here, in this prison, she had no choice.

She lifted it to her face, the cold material sending a shiver down her spine as it made contact with her skin. The weight of it surprised her—heavier than expected. The edges suctioned to her skin, holding it snuggly in place. It fit perfectly, but wearing any Heart mask felt like surrender. Foreign. Invasive. Like betrayal.

She didn’t bother looking at her reflection, not now. Not with what she would see staring back at her.

Shaderaadjustedhermaskfor the third time as Chapman held the car door open, the black town car idling at the building’s private entrance. She caught her reflection in the car’s tinted window—death staring back at her, silver-traced and elegant. At least if she had to wear their mark, she would wear it as a threat.

Chapman had looked appropriately horrified when she’d emerged from her room wearing it, his eyes darting to Greyson as if expecting him to object. But Greyson had merely nodded once, something like satisfaction glinting in his eyes before he donned his own. A matched set of nightmares, ready for their public debut.

“It suits you,” Greyson said from behind his mask, the familiar obsidian hiding whatever expression might have accompanied the words as he gestured for her to enter first.

Shadera didn’t respond, just slid into the back seat, the leather cool and supple beneath her. Another luxury that made her skin crawl with the knowledge of what such excess cost the rings. She shifted to the far side, maintaining as much distance as possible between them as Greyson followed, settling into the seat beside her.

Chapman closed the door behind him, then took his place in the driver’s seat. He was a thin man but strong, older than she’d expected for a Heart servant, with methodical movements that spoke of military training. Cardinal born, Greyson had said. Not a slave. She wasn’t convinced there was a difference when it came to Heart service.

The partition between them and Chapman was half raised, creating an intimate bubble that felt suddenly too small for the two of them. Shadera felt her lungs constricting, her chest tightening.

Her eyes tracked their route as the car pulled away from the building, cataloging landmarks, intersections, security checkpoints. Three turns to the main boulevard. Four security checkpoints between here and the outer Heart perimeter. Two surveillance drone hubs visible on rooftops. All information she could use if—when—she found her chance to escape. Information Jaeger and Jameson could use to plan their next strikes.

The thought of Jameson sent a pang through her chest. He would be frantic by now, thinking her dead or worse. And here she sat, in a luxury car beside the Executioner, wearing a Heart mask like some prized pet. Shame burned hot beneath her skin.

“Where are we going?” she asked, keeping her voice neutral.