Page 4 of Blood On His Lips

That no matter how my temper snapped and strained, no matter how I struggled to suppress my crueler impulses, if I broke and bled darkness all overhim, he would only laugh and bathe in my blood and desire.

Numair turned to me, impotent fury in his gaze. “I hate this.”

“How do you think I feel?” I kept my voice soft, steady, aware that though Numair knew me, loved me, I would always have to shroud that other side of myself from him.

He was everything that was good, shining, gentle, and he—he thought I was the same. A little rough around the edges, a little damaged, but he thought his love would one day heal me when I was brave enough to fully accept it. I couldn’t bear to break his heart with the truth.

I couldn’t be healed.

Did Iwantto be?

I was the daughter of a High Lord, and soon to be the consort of an Old One. Gentleness should have no place in my psyche. Not if I wanted to survive, to walk the city as a Lord rather than a slave.

“Well,” Juliette said, stretching her legs. “I guess this shit is inevitable. Bargaining for protection was the first step. If he won’t leave you alone, then you have to make sure he at least doesn’t set you up to fail.”

I rested my hands on my thighs and leaned my head back. “I don’t want to play Court games.”

What you want—

Enough already, Darkan.

“Guess what my sister would say,” Juliette said. “Stop whining, bitch.”

“Youwould say that. You just said it.”

Numair threw Juliette an irritated glance. “We’ll figure this out together, Rinne.”

She rolled her eyes. “Lavendre would tellyouto stop coddling the little princess. Aerinne doesn’t have a choice. We’re in this until the bastard cuts her loose, and our best hope is that the eventual outcome doesn’t mean a painful death.”

“As opposed to a not painful death?” My voice was dry. Numair glared at me. I loathed that Juliette was right, though. “You know what’s salt in the wound? That we have to go play nice with the other Houses at a fucking faire.” With everything that had gone on, I’d forgotten about it until now. Surreal. “Whoever came up with that twisted idea is a sadist. I bet on Baroun.”

Juliette’s expression darkened to match mine. “Games, treats, innocent family fun. . .he’s clearly a sadist. There has to be a catch.”

We agreed.

Numair gave us a look torn between amusement and long-suffering aggravation. “You two will make interesting mothers.”

We hissed at him. My nails sharpened further, distracting me, the nail beds aching. That they kept doing that was a sign of Fae maturation I’d thought I was too human to experience.

“At least the Prince isn’t making Aerinne give a speech, or kiss Baroun’s cheek at the ribbon cutting,” Juliette added.

“Stop the carriage. It’s time for that vomit.”

We smirked but fell silent as the carriage drove down the boulevard leading through Montague District at a brisk clip. Despite the official ceasefire, no one trusted the truce.

We were right not to trust it.

ChapterTwo

As we beganto cross through the main square, I straightened.

Night muted the blinding white stone of the boulevard and pretentious matchy-matchy buildings, but made it harder to watch for an attack.

The carriage clopped around a rectangular garden, and more gardens lined the path, the flowers all of the same height, color, and planted in precise intervals like rows of little White Guards.

Only Montague would try to control even the plant life.

I eyed every arched threshold and pillar and stone retaining wall someone could hide behind. The rooftops were sloped black shingles, providing cover for an archer or assassin.

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