Page 31 of The Shadow Bride

“—or if you everhaveany questions—”

“Iwon’t.”

She rolls her eyes just as Michal enters the shop with a carefully neutral expression. It gives him away entirely, and I want to die all over again because he must’ve overheard thisludicrousconversation. I stifle a groan. Of course he did. He’s a vampire, which means he overheard everything, and I—I stare fervently at the kittens, cheeks blazing, unable to meet his gaze as Odessa says, “She’s all yours, cousin.” Then, sweeping past us to the door: “I’ll be on the ship.Dohurry up, won’t you? This city is tedious at the best of times, let alone after a week of listening to Louise le Blanc and Reid Diggory demonstratetheirunderstanding of certain mechanics—”

“Odessa!”

She merely lifts a shoulder, however—unconcerned—and disappears.

Michal and I stand in awkward silence for several seconds. Or rather,Istand in awkward silence while he stands in what I assume is his best impression of a marble statue—tall and cold and perfect—waiting for me to speak.

“Well?” My voice comes out higher than usual, almost shrill, and I clear my throat hastily. “Did the harbormaster agree to rearrange his departure schedule? Can we leave?”

“Yes.” Michal opens the door, gesturing for me to precede him—which I do, wrapping his cloak tighter to hide the bloodstains down my front. He doesn’t touch me this time. His hands remain clasped firmly behind his back.

“And did—” I clear my throat and start over. “Did you happen to keep my trousseau? Do I have—er, clothing on Requiem?”

“Everything is exactly as you left it.” His gaze drops to my feet, where his too-long hem hides my bare toes. “Though the harbormaster has agreed to wait if you’d like to collect your things from West End. We can retrieve them before we—”

“No.” I shake my head instantly. “My parents can never see me like this.”

He gives me a cool sidelong glance. “Never,” he repeats.

“Well, notnevernever. Just not—not right now.”

He looks away again. “I see.”

“No, you don’t.” Even to my ears, the words sound a touch desperate, but they spill between us before I can stop them, perhaps because I still can’t read his expression; I can’t discern what he’s thinking behind that impassive stare, only that heisthinkingsomething, and I want to know what it is. Is it amusement? Judgment?

Atthatthought, an inexplicable need to defend myself rises. “My parents think I’ve eloped, or otherwise whored myself to a man who is not my betrothed. They think I’ve been compromised. To them, it’s the worst thing that could’ve possibly happened to me, and I—I don’t want to prove them wrong. Not yet, anyway.”

Another beat of silence. Then—

“As you wish.”

He dips his chin without another word, continuing toward the ship, but I snatch his shredded sleeve before he can outpace me, irrationally agitated by his lack of response. It shouldn’t matter what he thinks. I shouldn’tcare, yet I can’t stop myself from saying, “If you have something to say—”

He arches a brow at my hand on his arm. “Oh, I have many things to say, pet, but you aren’t ready to hear them.”

“I told you not to call mepet,” I snap, “and you don’t get to decide when I’m ready to hear things, Michal. I’m not a child. I can handle a few unpleasant words fromyou.”

Despite my bravado, warmth still creeps into my cheeks beneath his full, undivided attention, and when I rescind my hand—flustered—he says, “Fair enough.” He still doesn’t touch me, however. Instead he leans low, his black eyes glittering with something that looks suspiciously like hurt. “How about this? A sadistic witch tortured and killed your sister last year. Your parents know the worst that could happen, and it isn’t you whoring yourself to me.”

He turns abruptly on his heel then.

He leaves me standing there gaping after him like a fish.

It takes several seconds for me to clamp my mouth shut, to bite my tongue and remember I didaskfor those unpleasant words. I wanted to know exactly what he was thinking, and he kindly obliged. Now I have no choice but to chase after him and demand an explanation—for his callous regard, yes, but also for that strange look in his eyes. That slight crack in his wall of ice. “What does that mean? You can’t justproclaimthese things and flee into the night, Michal—”

“It’s dawn.”

“Flee into the dawn, then.” Though I dare not catch his sleeve again, I hurry to step in front of him, blocking his path and searching his face for—well, I don’tknow, exactly. “Do you think I should visit my parents? Do you think I should tell them what happened to me?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think.”

“What if it did?”

The question surprises even me, and I blink up at him, alarmed by my own nerve. This is Michal, after all—ancient and powerful, the cruelest of vampires—and we’ve never exactly been open with each other. Not like this. I resist the urge to squirm beneath his appraisal.

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