Page 119 of Devious Knight

If I doubt myself, I can’t work. I won’t have the vision to create. That’s how doubt works.

I’ve sat here for the last few hours looking over my notes. That’s it. I haven’t been able to sort through my materials or the design plans.

I keep hearing Parker saying that there’s nothing about me that makes me stand out from the crowd.

What a shitty thing to say. But what if he’s right and he was just being professional?

Art is all I have, so I don’t want anyone, especially him, to take it from me.

But what if I’m bitter because of that? Because he’s right?

I don’t fucking know. That’s the part I hate. I don’t know if I’m right about him or if he’s right about me and it’s messing with me. I feel like I’m playing a game of tug of war with savage dogs and wild cats.

I want to blame Kade. If he hadn’t destroyed my sculpture, I’d be outside Parker’s control and on my way to Cambridge in a little over two weeks’ time.

But this feels like it stopped being about Kade from the moment Parker told me Aleksander wanted him to exclude the incident. Everything else we spoke about was to do with his requests. None of that was to do with Kade.

That felt more personal to me.

If I’m right about Parker—which I feel I am—and he wants me gone, then it suggests more guilt on his part toward Mom.

As horrible as that feeling is, knowing it is worth something to me.

It just fucking hurts that I can’t do anything. Once again, my hands are tied behind my back.

No one—not even Dad—is going to help me based on a gut feeling. And I can’t go accusing the Lord Chancellor of murder when I have no proof.

God, this is torture. No wonder I can’t do anything.

When I gaze down at my notepad, a sudden wave of grief floods me.

“Damn it…” My chest caves, and I slump against the table with my head in my hands, a quiet sob building in my chest.

I mustn’t cry. When I did last week, it was terrible. I don’t want to go back to the dark side of grief, but I don’t think I ever left.

I will still be trapped in the dark until the truth comes out. As it stands now, I don’t think it ever will. Parker will be allowed to walk free and progress in life while my mother’s soul continues to cry out to me.

Despite my attempts to hold myself together, a tear slides down my cheek. Another follows, and darkness swarms my mind like a cloud of thick black smoke.

Just when it’s about to swallow me whole, a warm hand rests on my back.

At first, I think I imagined it, but then fingers flutter over my skin. I lift my head, look over my shoulder, and I find Kade standing behind me.

I wondered how I’d feel when I next saw him. Now that he’s right here, the blame I expected to feel is nowhere to be found.

Instead, my thoughts have switched to his touch. The simple, warm touch is the only thing that’s pulled me away from the turmoil of conflicting emotions pulling me under. If only for a few seconds.

I straighten, and he touches my face, swiping away my tears with his thumb.

“What happened to you, Lolita?” Those piercing blue eyes bore into me, but it’s the first time they’ve been free of malice.

I shake my head. “I… can’t. I…”

I bring my hands to my cheeks and look away from him, but he guides my face back to meet his gaze.

He leans on the table, getting close and looking at me as if he’s trying to search my mind. “Someone hurt you. Someone who isn’t me.”

We stare at each other in silence until another wayward tear rolls down my cheek.

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