Page 59 of Taken By the Shadow Prince

She blows out a breath. “I’m sorry if you thought thatdistractionmeant something different than it did.” Her words are fucking punches to the chest. “Perhaps I wasn’t clear enough.”

Another punch.

“Oh, come on,” I say, trying so badly to keep my voice hard, to not let it turn brittle and break. “Youtalkto me. Laugh with me. Smile at me.”

“And those aren’t things thatIdo, Armin!” Her words sound stretched, stressed. As if she’s trying to get the point across and I am simply not getting it.

“What, exactly, is your point?”

“Mypointis that you’ve made me weak. All those things have turned me into a girl who will fail in your realm—who will die. And I refuse to die—not because of you.” She jerks her chin toward the door. “Leave, Armin. I refuse to be this girl. It’s going to ruin me.”

“You blame me.”

“Of course I blame you. It’s not a fucking coincidence.”

I don’t know if I’m mad or if my heart is bleeding out. I don’t know. I do, however, know that this is the worst kind of torture, of cruelty, that I have ever experienced.

Mavey is certainly wrong if she thinks she won’t survive in Atheya.

I stop when I’m at the door. “I didn’t change you, Mavey. I just made you happy, for once in your life. You are still the same girl—the same cruel girl. I won’t let you accuse me of changing the one thing I love.”

And then I leave.

Because if Mavey wants to punish herself with loneliness, then fine. I’m no stranger to punishing myself.

Weak.

What a fucking joke, that she thinks she’s weaker now than she was when we first met.

No.

No, weak is hiding your words. Weak is refusing to smile, much less laugh. Weak is hiding your feelings, your thoughts, the things that make you who you are. Weak is bowing to the demon who holds your puppet strings instead of cutting them off.

Mavey was far weaker before I met her. The girl I teased out of her is the strong one, the one who will make it in Atheya.

But she has chosen not to be her.

And I donotmake her decisions for her. I do notforceher into things, despite what she may think.

So if she wants me gone, then fine. I won’t force her to keep me around. She can choose to wallow alone rather than to share the weight, lift her shoulders, and be all the stronger for it.

No, I won’t force her to choose me.

Even if it’s a punishment for us both.

When I get to my rooms, the first thing I do is head for the bar that I’ve had stocked since I arrived. The bottles used to be for late nights on the terrace with Mavey, but now I suppose one will work just fine for sinking into a tub without her.

I refuse to think about her—or what’s going to happen between us now. How can I possibly fix that? Should I even try? Or should I make her come to me, after she’s figured out how fucked everything she said to me was?

I sincerely doubt there’s a right decision. I wonder if there ever is, or if life is simply full of wrong ones that you have to make. Perhaps there are only wrong decisions and you have to choose the least of all evils.

I use my magic to fill the tub with warm water and to strip me of my clothes, then sink into it with the bottle of liquor in my hand.

Those thoughts tell me exactly what I already know—I need to get drunk.

And it would probably be best if I stayed that way.

Chapter 33

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