Page 31 of Her Dark Reflection

‘I hope you don’t expect to charm the king with that mouth.’ He leaned back in the chair, appearing utterly at ease. ‘I’m here to help. We both want the same thing, after all. And there is clearly someone around who has an opposing interest.’

‘I don’t need your help.’

‘Don’t be a fool. You almost died.’

I wanted to deny it, but my body still remembered the raging fever, the taste of blood and bile in my mouth, and the screaming pain that had eaten up my leg. Whatever Senafae had said about it taking several stings to kill someone, it certainly didn’t look like that was the case for me. With a flash of realisation, I remembered Vanaria lurking by my door. ‘There’s another maisera who hates me,’ I admitted slowly. ‘She tried to have me thrown out of the palace by framing me for stealing.’

‘What’s her name?’

‘Why do you need her name? What will you do?’ He didn’t answer, but as he held my gaze, I felt a grogginess creep into me, making my thoughts wandering and sloshy. He’d asked me something. What had he asked me? A name. I wasn’t going to tell him. Aether’s teeth, I wanted to run my fingers through his hair. But she deserved whatever happened to her. Whoever she was. Vera-something. Rosach? She’d put a crazy beetle in my bed. One with teeth. And venom. Not Vera, Vanaria. Vanaria Rosach.

I didn’t realise I’d said the name aloud until he broke eye contact with me and the grogginess drained away, leaving me feeling a little woozy and nauseated. He rose to his feet and looked as though he was about to leave as my mind caught up.

‘What the fuck was that?!’ I demanded in a voice that sounded like it was being squeezed out of me. I swung my legs out of bed and stood shakily in the flimsy linen gown I’d been given by a nurse. He reached out to steady me and I smacked his hand away, squaring up to him. ‘Did you use magic on me?’ I was no longer worried about someone finding him here. The knowledge that he could do something like that, could toy with my head without so much as fluttering an eyelid, shook me to the core. ‘How dare you, you… you brute! How dare you manipulate me and force me to speak against my will!’

He simply snorted, looking not the least bit intimidated. ‘I don’t have time to beg for your confidence. I needed a name, and I took it. Next time, be more forthcoming with your information and I won’t have to do it again.’

‘You had no right! Don’teverdo that again, do you hear me?Don’t just stand there and smirk at me.’

‘Forgive me, anger is ravishing on you.’

Fury cracked through me. Before I could think better of it, I raised my arm and swung at him with an open hand, aiming for his cheek, but he caught my wrist mid-air. I tried to yank it away, but his grip was as hard and unforgiving as stone.

Rage rolled across his face. A cold rush of fear doused my anger as he yanked me against him, leaning down.

‘You don’t like my smirk? How about I treat you to my wrath in all its glory?’ he growled.

‘Let go of me,’ I demanded as I squirmed in his grip. For a few dangerous moments I was aware of what I toyed with, of the strength of his body, of the strange energy that clung to him, making my hair stand on end like static. Then he released me, and I stumbled a few steps backwards.

‘Learn to mind your wishes. You wanted me angry and then were unhappy when you got what you asked for,’ he said, the picture of calm once again.

But he was wrong. Seeing the slip in his endlessly unruffled façade was thrilling. His temper was a damn sight better than his indifference, and the satisfaction of having provoked some sort of reaction quenched my anger and instead sparked a different kind of heat that burned like an ember low in my pelvis. I wanted to know if I could wring more of that fire from him. I composed myself, plucked a strand of my hair from his shirt, and patted him on the chest.

‘Do that again, and our deal is off. You can take your damn glamour and I’ll turn you in for unsanctioned magic use.’ My voice was quiet, but for once he looked as though he was taking me seriously. As he should, because I meant it. Whatever he offered me, the beauty, the path to becoming queen, wasn’t worth the sanctity of my own mind.

After a moment, his mouth twitched in the hint of a smile. ‘Reasonable terms, I suppose. I’ll not touch your mind again,’ he said, inclining his head.

I relaxed a little and perched on the bed to look up at him from beneath my lashes. I was wearing a hideous gown and I was dishevelled from spending the day in bed, but surely, I had the skills to convince him to touch me and feed that delicious excitement that was thrumming through my veins. ‘You should want to keep me on your side, given how quickly I delivered your apple for you. Are you going to give me the next one?’

‘You’re a long way from being ready for the next one. A box of pastries is not a marriage proposal.’ He was looking towards the door instead of at me. So much for fire. Was he a eunuch? Were men more to his taste than women? He knew what I looked like beneath the glamour, but surely that memory wasn’t strong enough to leech all the power from my beauty now.

He flicked his eyes back to me and if he’d noticed the look I was giving him, he didn’t show it. ‘You’ve got some work to do. Don’t think the enchantment will do your job for you. Love is not enough to make you queen.’

I crossed my arms. ‘It isn’t as though I’ve been resting on my laurels. You could congratulate me on what I’ve already achieved instead of just telling me I have more to do.’

‘You’re fishing in the wrong place for compliments. Achieving what you promised is the least I expect of you. I’ll congratulate you when you’re queen.’ He touched a hand briefly to my cheek. ‘Your little rival won’t bother you again. Now, go find your mirror.’

I wanted to say more. I cast around for something, anything, to throw at him, to keep him here a little longer even though all he did was rile me, but he didn’t give me a chance to form more than half a syllable. In a few steps, he was a silhouette, a shadow darting across the room, and then he wasn’t even that. I blew a lock of hair from my eyes. I felt jittery. I hated that he left me feeling like that. I hated that I couldn’t quite pin down our relationship. I turned over the memory of his anger in my mind, feeling smug all over again when I thought of the way his expression had cracked. He may be all smooth lines and apparent indifference, but I had the sense of things beneath the surface that tantalised me. I would burrow beneath that exterior and see what I could find, see if there was anything there that I could leverage.

And when I did, he would regret taunting me.

Thefollowingday,Iwas given permission from the head physician to leave the infirmary and return to my room. She had eyed me like she was waiting for me to collapse at any moment, but I was restless from two days of being confined to a bed and anxious to make sure no one had swept in and turned the king’s attention, so I insisted.

A huge bouquet of red tulips had been delivered to me by a hall boy that morning. They didn’t have a note attached, but I was sure the king had sent them. I was readying to take them back to my room with me when a short, dimpled housemaid with an impeccably styled updo bobbed before me.

‘I’m perfectly capable of carrying a bunch of flowers. I don’t need help to my room,’ I said dismissively.

‘You won’t be returning to the room in the servant’s quarters, miss. You’re to follow me. A footman will pack your belongings for you.’

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