Page 48 of We Are the Match
But she is nothing like Helen, anxious, furious, damaged Helen with glass in her beautiful hair and distant, ravaged eyes.
Helen of the island, Helen of the gods.
Helen, tied up in my bed.
Helen, whom I intend to destroy.
“I look forward to our partnership,” I say. I sit down beside her before her companions have the chance to, which draws a raised eyebrow from Hana.
“You have confidence, child,” she says, glancing at my bandaged hand. “Zarek doesn’t like that, I’m assuming?”
“He and I ... have different approaches,” I tell Hana. “By the way, Helen wishes very dearly that she could be here. But she is a bit ... tied up currently.” Her eyebrow lifts higher.
“Oh,” she says. “Oh.The princess has finally taken a lover, and decided to do sonow, right before a marriage? And what is it about you that has so compelled her, when she has been locked up in her little tower these many years?”
I shrug one shoulder, the weight of Hana’s suspicion landing heavy on me.
“I am not here on her behalf,” I tell Hana. “Or on Zarek’s. I am here forme.”
This is a better story than a brand-new fixer: a story of wanting Helen. Of crossing whomever I need to in order to have her. Of course, it’s not entirely false, even if it is not true in the way that Hana might think.
Hana smiles, ever so slightly. “I wondered if you would be honest with me,” she says. “Or if you would try to play the game.”
From the queen.
And is there anyone else in the world of the Families as regal as Hana?
Helen.But Helen is back in my apartment, writhing in the ropes I left her in.My Helen.
“You don’t strike me as the type to start a war,” I tell Hana, my throat suddenly dry at the image of Helen spread on my bed. “You seem more like the type to finish one.”
Hana smiles again, full red lips pressed together. “Flattery will get you nowhere, my dear,” she says. “But come. Tell me what it is you wish to know.” She steeples her fingers, hands resting on her chest as she reclines against her lounge chair. “I am being interrogated, am I not?”
“No,” I say. “I want the kind of help you’re known for.”
Her round blue eyes narrow. “My help?” Her words drip with honey and violence, and the look she gives me is skeptical. “Zarekwants my help? Or Helen?”
A shiver snakes down my spine.
“Helen and ... Helen and I would like your help. With a sensitive matter,” I say. “Regarding an upcoming alliance.”
“Ah,” she says. The wind whispers against us, gentle and warmer than this morning, just lifting her dark-brown hair. “Yes, of course. The marriage.”
“The marriage is an alliance, of course,” I tell her. “But we—I need to know if all parties can be trusted.”
“Are you asking me to learn something useful about Milos?” Hana asks, her voice gentle. “Something Zarek does not know?”
“Of course not.” I tilt my head, my gaze raking down her face. “I know you already havethat. I’m asking about his brother Marcus.”
Something in her expression settles, and I can see it: the slight loosening of her shoulders, the way her steepled fingers relax against her chest. I have pacified her, passed the first part of her test, at least.
“What would you like?” she asks. “Do you have a preference if it is real or falsified?”
Marcus is the kind of man with blood on his hands going back years and years. Connections or not, he will be easy to find dirt on. And Hana is a master of her craft.
“I want whatever you can find,” I tell her.
“Well, you are in luck, child,” she says. “I do so like to be helpful when it comes to marriages. Come,” she says as she shrugs off her silk wrap. She is wearing nothing but some lace briefs beneath it, and she descends topless into the pool.
