Page 146 of A Sin So Pure

“Welcome to my humble abode.”

His eyes track me as I enter the room; it’s toasty, a healthy fire crackling in a fireplace. I don’t waste time inspecting the rest of the room—I don’t need to see his bed nor the bathroom—the fire is what I need.

I collapse onto the floor in front of the flames, the rug scratching against my shins. I fumble the smokes box one handed, but manage to get one out and cast the box aside. My cigarette doesn’t take long to catch flame when I fit it through the grate of the fireplace. Pulling it to my lips, I take a deep drag, and let a different kind of burn work its way through me.

“I’ve always thought that was an archaic way of proving one’s loyalty.”

Smoke unfurls from my parted lips as I release my breath. I tilt my head over my shoulder—Silas stands above me, staring intently at my exposed back. At my scars.

Everyone knows.

I shift on my knees. My back falls against the coffee table and my legs stretch out in front of me; I turn the table into armor, defending my scars from curious eyes.

“The pain was worth the reward,” I say.

“Was it?”

Those black eyes, so observant, make my skin itch.

I turn back to the fire.

“At the time,” I say.

The only sound between us is the rustling of Silas’s cotton pajamas as he sits next to me, back leaning against the coffee table like mine. He pulls his legs to his chest, arms bandingaround his shins. He lets a rosy cheek fall to his kneecap, the action squishing his mouth into a frown.

“What do you need escape from?” he asks.

“I had an enlightening conversation with Benevolence,” I say through another drag of smoke.

“You went to the revelry?”

“I was invited,” I say. I pause for another sip of alcohol. The liquid sloshes in the bottle when I place it between us on the rug. My vision starts to fuzz around the edges, giving me hope that I may be able to sleep tonight. “He thinks his father has nefarious plans for us on this trip.”

Silas hums. “Wrath and I expected as much. Our own plan was never without risk.”

“There’s abutwaiting at the end of that sentence.”

“Of course, there is.” Silas smiles. “Butwe’re already here. If he pulls anything, I’ll handle it.”

“You’llhandle it?”

“Mhm,” he hums. “I’m the king. That’s what I do. And I’m the one who brought us here. Everyone’s safety is my responsibility.”

“Fair,” I say, but internally I scoff.

Will my safety matter to him past tomorrow?

My cigarette is on its last leg; I suck as much life from it as I can before flicking it above the grate and into the fire. The flames pop at the disruption. Embers float into the chimney like snow flurries.

“But all that wouldn’t rattle the Pride I’ve come to know… What else happened?” Silas asks, though he has the decency to have his eyes trained on the fire.

The flames are calming, an array of red, yellow, orange, and where it’s hottest, blinding white.

“I can’t tell you,” I say.

“Okay,” he says, reaching for the liquor. He takes a swing and coughs. “That’s terrible.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty shit.”

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