Page 21

SILIA

The room Tarron brought me to was not the usual one I would stay in when Diana and I would visit. This room was on the opposite side of the palace and much, much larger.

The second I walk in, I’m engulfed in scents of vanilla and floral soap. I take a moment to soak in the unexpectedly sweet atmosphere as I continue to gaze around the room. It has a feminine touch to it, as if it had been prepared for my arrival.

The ceilings are at least twenty feet high, with large pillars in each corner identical to the ones in the throne room. A giant bed with four pillar-sized black posts lies in the center of the room, with a beautiful red and charcoal grey rug underneath. The room is dark—almost too dark, save for the roaring fireplace that lines almost an entire wall and the curtains that are slightly drawn, allowing a small glimmer of light to seep in.

Once I’m through the threshold, I spin back around and lock my door. Lars’s request is still itching the back of my mind.

Keep your door unlocked.

After making sure the lock clicks in place, I walk to the bed and fall back on it, closing my eyes.

The look on Erebus’ face as he told me Lars is his stepson replays in the forefront of my vision. I still don’t understand how that is even possible, and why Lars has lied about almost everything. He had told me he could explain, and that it was not what it looks like, but my trust in him has almost fully expired.

He lied. He’s a liar.

Yet, the invisible string tying us together pulls me to him still. A part of me does want him to come to my room and tell me everything is not true and that he really is just a man hired by my father to train me. But that is just a fantasy, and this is my reality.

I wonder what he’s doing right now.

No, absolutely not. I need to stop. I need a break from him.

I rise from the bed and walk to the massive bathroom. Just as I expected, there are black marble floors, a white clawfoot bathtub, a huge shower…with a bench that looks eerily similar to Lars’s back in Eza. This has to be a coincidence, right?

I pull out a towel from under the sink and place it on the countertop, then walk to the tub and turn on the faucet. Steamy, hot water pours from the spout, and my body almost melts at the sight of it. It’s been days since I’ve had a proper bath.

On the stool next to the tub is an array of bath salts and body washes. There are four bottles, Rose, Vanilla, Coffee, and Amber . I pick up the coffee scent and inhale, giving a low moan at the delicious-smelling soap. This will do nicely.

Just as I set the bottle back down, a fifth one appears out of thin air. I jump back a little at the sudden appearance of the black bottle. This one has a white label that reads Sandalwood and Jasmine . I pick up the tiny black bottle and roll it around in my hand. On the back, there’s more writing.

In a small script, just barely legible, the line reads:

“ So you no longer need to steal my tunic .”

This has to be a sick joke.

I scoff and slam the bottle back onto the stool. The nerve! I whip my head around to survey the bathroom. Could Lars be in my room without my knowing? I even check under the sink again, but there’s nothing, not a soul in here except my own.

I don’t have time for his games.

I strip my clothes and step into the hot water just as the tub fills, and then I pour the contents of the coffee-scented soap into the bath water. As I sink into the tub, I close my eyes and try to clear my mind. Lazily, I hum a tune to myself as I sink deeper and deeper, allowing my muscles to finally relax after a tense few days.

After a few moments of blissful silence, I grab the shampoo sitting next to the array of body washes and I scrub my scalp. I’m only thirty seconds into washing my hair before I realize I’ve made a terrible mistake.

Sandalwood and jasmine flood my nose, “What the—"I quickly dunk my head under the water to wash it out. Even my subconscious gravitates towards him, because I know for a fact that I did not grab that bottle. Great, now I’ll smell like him for at least the next few days.

After my hair is void of the Lars-scented soap, I reach over for the black bottle and chuck it across the bathroom. No more fooling me, stupid bottle.

Two hours later, on the dot, there’s a knock at my door. I look over myself one last time in the mirror before answering it.

There had been only a single dress in the wardrobe, an emerald, floor-length gown that cut deep down the middle, exposing a sliver of my chest and the top of my abdomen. The emerald fades to black at the bottom, twinning my stained fingertips. The fabric is a mix of silk and tulle, creating a beautiful contrast in the firelight. It would almost certainly be see-through if it weren’t for the silk slip underneath the tulle. I won't lie, I feel beautiful in this dress. I’ve never seen one made in this style before.

Also in the wardrobe, there had been a pair of black, elbow-length gloves to go with the dress. They fit snugly on my arms as I pull them all the way up and pick off any lint left behind from the body of the dress.

I decide to leave my hair down and just tuck the front strands behind my ears. I feel too dressed up to attend a dinner. My intimate life in Eza now seems plain in comparison to Daqet's lavish lifestyle.

I run my gloved hands down the front of my dress and nod to myself in the mirror.

Ready.

“Ready?” echoes in my head.

Shit, I must have sent that thought into the eather. “I wasn’t talking to you. Get out of my head.” I roll my eyes and walk to the door.

All I get in response is a soft chuckle. I open the door to find Tarron dressed in an expensive-looking button-up shirt and bejeweled cape. His shoes curl up at the tips, coiling around a few times. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a shoe like it before. His foot taps impatiently as he holds his arm out for me to take.

It’s comical watching him try to escort me. He is almost half my height, and I would have to bend down to link arms with him.

Seemingly realizing our dynamic, he lowers his arm and clears his throat. “This way, Your Highness.”

We enter the familiar dining room, and the air drops a few degrees as my eyes connect with Lars. I quickly look away and take in the seating arrangement. Erebus sits at the head of the table, Lars to his right, and Odious to his left.

A right-hand seat for a right-hand man.

Diana is seated next to Odious, and Tarron makes his way to the other end of the table, at least ten seats away from us.

The room is dark and ominous, the only lighting coming from the enormous chandelier hanging in the middle of the room. There must be a hundred candles in it. The light doesn’t reach every inch of the room, and I swear I can see movement in the pitch-black corners. I let a shiver run over my body as I make my way to the table.

“Ah, our final guest.” Erebus rises to his feet, and everyone follows suit. He lifts his wine glass and gestures to the chair directly next to Lars. I stand there for a moment, unsure if I can even conjure enough patience to sit next to him for a whole meal.

Erebus lets out a low, calculating chuckle as he speaks to Lars under his breath. “Where are your manners, boy? Pull out the chair for your lady.”

Lars glares at Erebus out of the corner of his eye and pulls my chair back. The sound of the chair scraping against the wood floors sends an echo through the dining room that makes me want to rip my ears off. If I didn’t feel awkward before, I definitely do now.

I take my seat, making sure to avoid eye contact with Lars as he scoots me in, and everyone sits back down. I glance around and realize that two people are missing from the table.

“Where is Rein?” He is a guest, too. Why is he not here like the rest of us?

Erebus scoffs and takes a sip of his wine before answering. “Your captain? He is in the below, dear. He is a trespasser.”

I dart my gaze to Diana, silently pleading with her to talk some sense into him. Rein is not a trespasser. We all came in together, and if he is in the below, then Lars and I should be as well.

Diana’s gaze only meets mine for a split second before she looks down in her lap, fumbling with her napkin. But to my surprise, she clears her throat and looks back up at Erebus. “Uncle, couldn’t we invite him to dinner? He does not belong in a prison cell.”

“He killed two of my guards, severing their heads completely from their bodies, and ruined very expensive paintings of mine. He is exactly where he belongs.” Erebus claps his hands, and a dozen of his staff rush out of the doors leading from the kitchen, rolling in carts of various meats, vegetables, and side dishes.

After Erebus’ gruesome description, Diana looks a few shades paler, and she pushes away her plate. A moment later, Odious subtly reaches over and pushes her plate back in front of her and offers a small smile. She gives a curt nod and places her hands in her lap again. I swear I can see the color returning to her face tenfold, even a blush creeping up her neck.

Dozens of thoughts begin to swirl in my mind as I watch this scene play out. It almost looks as if he is taking care of Diana. I know this cannot be a reality. Not only is Odious working with Erebus, but he has said nothing but nasty things to Lars and I since our arrival. I almost want to reach over and shake Diana for allowing herself to show an ounce of anything but loathing for him.

Then again, it has been more than a week since she has been here. There are endless reasons she could be acting the way she is. I know my Diana, and she is not a stupid girl. If she is allowing these small acts of kindness from him, there must be a reason.

The staff dumps turkey breast, mashed potatoes, and peas on everyone’s plate, and I eye it suspiciously. It doesn’t look very appetizing, but the smell almost makes my mouth water. I wouldn’t put it past Erebus to poison the food and just take us all out in one swoop. But since apparently, animals had stolen what little food we had left last night, any meal is welcome.

“I see you received my gift. You smell delectable.”

Of course, he cannot afford me one moment of peace.

Without a glance his way, I reply to Lars in the eather. “It was an accident. Please refrain from making things appear in my room again.”

I cut my turkey and shove it in my mouth as I sense that familiar golden cloud in my mind’s eye.

“The shower bench is a nice touch, don’t you think?”

I choke a little on the turkey and set my silverware down. “I’m staying in your room?”

Why did I expect anything different?

“I was apparently kicked out of my room when I left. Tell me, is the décor to your taste? Sadly, the drapes do not match your eyes, but I am sure arrangements could be made.”

The detail about the drapes unlock a memory about Lars’s room back in Eza. His drapes are a deep emerald. Did he do that on purpose?

“I don’t need green curtains, Lars. I know what color my own eyes are. Stop being a creep.”

“I will not. They’re my favorite color.”

My body betrays me as heat floods my face, and I take a generous gulp of wine to calm myself down. I want to tell him his golden-brown eyes are my favorite color too.

“ Careful Little Flame. You’re burning up.”

I clear my throat and kick him underneath the table. All I get in response is a wave of amusement from him.

It makes me sick to my stomach.

Lars reaches to my lap and takes the fabric of my dress between his fingers. I wonder what his obsession with my clothing is. He does this every time I’m sitting next to him.

“ You did not follow my instructions. Your door was locked .”

“Erebus, where is Aunt Viktoria?” Lars’s fingers abruptly stop rubbing the fabric of my dress when I ask this question. I realize I won’t be able to convince Erebus to let Rein up for dinner, so I decide to drop the topic for now. I could just find my way into the prison and try to free Rein myself.

“What’s wrong, Lars? Afraid of Mommy?”

Lars withdraws his hand from my lap and places both hands on the table. The warmth previously circling my body has also dissipated, replaced by a cold hollowness.

“She is…preoccupied.” Erebus’ teeth scrape against his fork as he rips a chunk of meat from it.

“What is she doing that would cause her to miss dinner? I, for one, would love to see her.” Lies, I despise Erebus and Viktoria both.

She is no aunt to me. She’d just so happened to marry my uncle. My real aunt would never make this palace seem so cold and disconnected. Aunt Eria and I had always read together and baked various desserts in the palace’s massive kitchen. She would even travel to Eza to bring Diana and me different treats she’d found traveling the country.

That was, until she’d suddenly died, and Erebus had married Viktoria. Lars’s mother , I remind myself.

“Well, if you insist, dear niece.” Erebus waves his hand to Lars. “Lars, go fetch your mother.”

Anxiety is the only emotion flowing from Lars as he bows his head and sighs. “I don’t think tonight is a good night, Erebus.”

Diana sets her glass down and turns to Odious. “Could you get her? I haven’t seen her since I was so graciously kidnapped .” She looks to Lars as she emphasizes the word kidnapped. Odd.

“No.” Lars shoots to his feet. “I will get her.”

He pushes his chair back, his hand brushing against the back of my arm as he rounds the table and exits the dining room.

I’m in no mood for games anymore. This dinner is full of fake smiles and forced polite conversation. What the Hel is everyone tiptoeing around? Since were prisoners here, I may as well have a little fun.

I turn to Odious, resting my elbow on the table to cradle my chin in my palms. I cock my head to the side as I ask, “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

Diana chokes on her wine, which she’s drinking an awful lot of tonight, and covers her mouth with a napkin.

Odious finishes chewing and swallows his food before answering. “I see my brother has divulged in our childhood to you. Yes, I suppose I ought to be dead.” Odious raises his arms and gestures up and down his body. “But alas, I have risen.”

He moves his arms back to the table and mimics my gesture, head resting in his hands. “I thought you would be prettier.”

I scoff and raise my wine glass to my mouth, muttering into the cup before I sip. “Fuck off.”

Odious chuckles and turns to Erebus. “I like her. Why did you keep her hidden away from me for so long?”

Erebus throws a death glare at Odious and sets his utensils down with a clatter. “Quiet, boy. You talk too much. Eat your dinner.”

Odious grimaces, stacking vegetables and mashed potatoes on his fork and shoving them into his mouth.

A few awkward moments of fork-scraping and sipping go by before the dining room doors creak back open.

We all turn to look at the door to find Aunt Viktoria, arms linked with Lars as he escorts her into the room. Now that I see them side by side, I feel stupid for not making the connection sooner. They look identical. The Dolos family sure does have strong genes. They have matching white hair, the same high cheekbones, and twin full lips. They even possess the same heavy eye bags, despite those being a new appearance on Lars.

Diana and Odious rise and then move down a seat, allowing Aunt Viktoria to sit on Erebus’ left.

Lars pulls out her chair and guides her to sit, then scoots it in.

“Viktoria, welcome to dinner! I am so pleased you could spare a few moments of your evening to join us.” Erebus grabs her hand and squeezes it, but their whole exchange feels unsettling. I spot her hand flinch ever so slightly as he lowers his. No one else seems to notice, so I keep this bit of information to myself in hopes of asking Diana later.

I open my mouth to greet her, but my voice comes up short as her gaze shifts to meet mine. Her eyes look completely glazed over, and she wears no expression on her face, not even a look of concern as she flinched.

She breaks our locked gaze and peers down at their connected hands, then forces a sad excuse of a smile. “Thank you, dear. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

She removes her hand from her husband’s and places it in her lap as the staff rush over with their carts and begin piling up a new plate with food.

“Hello, Aunt Viktoria, it’s good to see you.” I finally work the words out of my mouth.

It’s not good to see her. Not only because she’d been cold and distant to me ever since she came into the family, but because it is genuinely hard to look at her.

Something is off.

“Is she well?” I ask Lars in the eather, figuring he would know the answer.

“She’s quite well. Can’t you see?” The harsh, bitter response from Lars takes me by surprise.

I turn to face him, not caring if anyone is looking, and I see beads of sweat beginning to form on his forehead as he intently focuses on the plate in front of him.

“She is not well. What is wrong with her? She looks like she’s going to pass out.” She truly does. Her skin is paler than the last time I saw her, and the deep blue veins on her face are more visible than before.

“She’s fine. Drop it. It is not your concern.”

Anger rolls off of him, and I ball my fists in my lap. If he wants to act that way, so be it. I’m the one who is supposed to be angry at him, anyway. He’s the one that kept secrets from me! He doesn’t get to treat me this way.

For the rest of the dinner, I don’t even look in Lars’s direction, even when he returns his fingers to my dress and caresses the fabric. Or when he silently pleads in the eather that he’s sorry for snapping at me and asks me to let him in, to say anything to him.

He can fuck off. I’m over all of this, over my fucked-up uncle, over Odious making snide remarks every five seconds. Over my feelings for Lars.

I’m finding Rein and coming up with an escape plan tonight .