Page 85 of Queens

I sink into the seat opposite him. It’s a folding chair, easy to haul between camps, but it appears to be on its last legs. The wood groans as it takes my weight, and the legs are no longer steady.

Rexton wordlessly slides his plate of food in my direction. I eye it, debating, before grabbing his fork and helping myself.

“Are you upset with me?” I repeat.

I don’t want him to be, but I suspect he is. Should I apologize? That’s probably the socially appropriate thing to do, but it would be a lie. I’m not sorry, not really.

“No, Cassia,” Rexton starts. “I’m not upset.”

I still, my lips pursing. Does he truly mean that? Is he lying? Why would he lie about that? Maybe he’s trying to play some sort of mind game with me. Perhaps he’s trying to trick me into feeling something other than hate for him. He wants to make me emotionally vulnerable.

It would explain his recent compliments. He’s been watching me, probably just as intently as I’ve been watching him. He’s figured out my motives. He knows my dreams and ambitions, and he knows I’ve been struggling to reach them. He’s going to use that against me.

Letting me put my teeth on him is just another way to earn my trust and make me complacent.

I maintain eye contact as I bring his food to my lips, silently letting him know I’m on to him. Whatever he’s planning, I’m not falling for it.

“Stop giving me your crazy eyes.” Rexton gestures toward my face. “It’s unnerving.”

I don’t havecrazy eyes.

Rexton continues. “I was expecting you to panic and push me away after I helped you, not threaten to mark me. You do lean toward the most explosive options, though.”

I shove the remainder of his toast into my mouth, carefully thinking through my response. Rexton thinks he knows me, that he’s got me all figured out. I’m nervous to admit that maybe he does.

I still don’t know anything about him, not anything valuable. He’s playing the game better than I am. He’s winning.

“What would you have done had I marked you?” I ask.

“I’m not entirely sure.”

“You’d be stuck with me for the rest of your life.”

“I’m aware.”

“So why didn’t you stop me?”

It makes no sense. Marks are sacred to demons, and putting your teeth on another is viewed as a wildly intimate action. It’s the human equivalent of an engagement, a promise of forever. Rexton shouldn’t have let me do that to him.

Rexton shrugs. “I didn’t think fighting with you was the right course of action. You needed to feel in control, so I let you.”

Heletme. How generous of him. He didn’t let me do anything. I took control on my own, no thanks to him. He’s taking credit he doesn’t deserve.

“Calm your eyes.”

My head snaps up. “Stop saying that. I don’t have crazy eyes.”

I shove the last bite of his food into my mouth, then push back my chair and storm away. Every step hurts, but I ignore it. I’m making a point, one I hope Rexton has enough brains to understand. His words and observations aren’t appreciated.

His laughter echoes behind me, and I clench my hands into tight fists as I head toward the leadership tent. I was told yesterday afternoon that Raum wishes to speak with me once I’m up and moving, and I assume the leadership tent will be the place to find him.

It’s a five-minute walk there, and my energy is drained by the time I arrive.

The entrance is shut, which means not to enter. I’d typically respect that, but my chest is pulsating and I really fucking need to sit. Besides, I technically have the right to attend Raum’s meetings. I have higher clearance than him.

There’s no sound coming from within the tent, and I quickly realize why as I step inside. Only Raum and Aziel are present, the two glaring at one another from opposite ends of a table. Neither looks in my direction. What have I walked in on?

“Gray wouldn’t be pleased to hear about you glaring at another man,” I say, sinking into the nearest chair. “Neither would Silas, now that I think about it.”