Page 78 of A Sin So Pure

“Does the Unseelie King always listen to his subordinates?” I ask, a lightning strike of confidence pushing me to test him.

My hands come to rest on my hips; the Unseelie King’s eyes—pupil-less voids in the dim light—flick between my hips and the other end of the booth. An unspoken order that I ignore.

“Sit.”

The one word wavers my confidence; devoid of all amusement, his voice commands obedience. My hands drop back to my sides, and I slide into the booth across from him—then the playful spark in his eyes is back.

“I don’t mean to offend, Your Majesty, but I willnotbe?—”

“I came to apologize,” he says. My breath catches in my throat when he cuts me off. “Not about using you for intelligence, that is my right as king and part of the vetting process for all who come into power here. But I do hold aminusculesliver of guilt for causing any trouble between you and Pride. I won’t be asking you about her any longer. We’ve come to a mutual understanding.”

My lips twist. “Why didn’t you say that when we saw you earlier?”

“I didn’t think it was the proper place for this conversation.”

“Okay.”

“Well?”

I blink. “Pardon?”

“Do you accept my apology?”

I give him an awkward, tight-lipped smile. “Consider it behind us.”

“Good.”

My skin grows clammy as we sit and stare at each other.

“Are you going to leave now, or did you need something else?” I ask tentatively.

His white brows hit his hairline, and I swear I can almost make out a hint of pink on the apples of his cheeks. Silas throws back the last sips of his drink before gracefully getting up from the booth. He pauses, tapping the table with his ringed knuckles, shadows curling around the appendages.

“I hope you can find it within yourself to think of me as more of a friend than a king going forward,” he says, slowlydisappearing into the inky tendrils. “If things progress the way I think they will, then we’ll all be seeing a lot more of each other.”

20

NORA

The wind is brisk, a sharp whip against my cheek.

I wait outside the iron-spiked gates of Silas’s palace, realizing that autumn has begun to pack up shop, and winter is rounding the corner with a flurry.

My nose gets a brief reprieve from the cold as I flick on my lighter, the flame burning through the end of the cigarette I’ve got pinched between gloved fingers. The sharp scent of smoke usually calms me, but lately, it’s been a reminder of the burned rubble we left across the Veil.

In some moments, it’s a good thing, like fresh coal thrown into my fire, but in others, it’s a heavy weight on my shoulders.

“Silas will arrive shortly. I suggest you finish that before he gets here,” a deep voice calls.

I close my eyes, already feeling the migraine pinch across the side of my skull. A fake smile spreads across my cheeks.

“Wrath.”

“Pride.”

Wrath doesn’t smile back as he greets me. I don’t think he was partial to me before I came into power, but afterwards, it became clear I’m not his favorite.

He isn’t mine either.

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