Page 21 of Obsession & Oath

Which is theonlyreason that I pay attention.

“Do you think we’re all destined to become our parents?”

Dante has taken to sitting on the floor with his back pressed against the bars. I’ve taken to mirroring him, slightly to the side. If I crane my neck to the left, I can make out his sharp profile.

“I think I’d look pretty ridiculous with a beard.”

The problem is, when Dante laughs, I stop thinking about paying attention for a moment. I just listen to the warmth of the tone, the freedom of it, the satisfaction of knowing that I caused it.

It’s a similar feeling that has begun to arise every time the door down the corridor opens for the fourth time every day. The warmth of settling into a routine with someone who seems just as trapped as I am.

There’s an odd sense of camaraderie in it.

“If anyone could pull it off, I would think you could,” Dante replies with a half smile.

He’s quieter and softer today. He came earlier and stayed far longer than he usually does.

Something’s clearly bothering him. But I don’t care to ask.

Only…

For the sake of my quest to gather information…

“What’s up with you today?”

His head turns to look at me. “Who said there was anything wrong?”

“You’ve not corrected my pronunciation once.”

“Well, you’re getting surprisingly good.”

I bite at my lower lip, considering how far I can push him. With a sigh, I lean back against the bars and close my eyes. “For the record, I don’t care. It’s just this is the only real conversation I get all day, and it sucks when you’re all mopey.”

“I’m sorry, princess. I’ll do my best to be happier for you.” The sarcasm doesn’t seem to bite as hard as it used to.

“Much appreciated.”

He sighs good-naturedly, and we sit in silence for a moment. I know better than to push him when he’s like this, and eventually, my patience is rewarded.

“My mother wants me married.”

“Congratulations.”

“Could you go back to insulting me in Italian?”

“Son of a bitch.”

“Thanks,” the smile sticks around a little longer this time. I ignore the satisfaction fluttering in my stomach. “That’s why she wants me at this ball tomorrow. To find a wife.”

Suddenly, several of his previous tirades make an awful lot more sense.

“You don’t want to get married?” I hedge.

“I’d like to fall in love,” he reasons back. “Eventually, I mean. Marriage seems like an impossible thing to me without it. But I doubt any of my mother’s bachelorettes have any real interest in me beyond the family name.”

“Don’t forget the castle.”

“And the castle.”

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