Page 20 of Bound in Violet Ink
Stumbling slightly to the nearest chair, my stomach feels as taut as ship rope. “I, uh… I was instructed to heal Kane,” I say quietly, my eyes still gyrating in my skull like I’ve unlearned theability to focus. “Silas said I either come back broken, or I don’t return.” My voice is as cold as these walls, realizing if I mate with Kane, it wouldenragethe Seelie High Master.
Even in this dead, crumbling place, where the walls bleed sorrowful tales, I finally feel the hollow ache of possibility clawing at my ribs. Some part of my mind registers in many ways therehasto be many hidden truths to my identity. Or maybe it’s just the trauma of being confined that finds comfort inbelongingto someone…
Does it matter? Mating Kane could be my ultimate revenge against Silas.
I’ll deal with my identity crisis later, a trauma I can’t begin to unfold right now.
Hope—that bittersweet bitch—is back.
Freya frowns, sitting down near me after locking the door with many bolts and a wooden barrier. “Why?”
“I’m not marriage material for High Lords. I’ve ruined five proposals and four arrangements.” My voice is a little stronger now.
“There will be jealousy, for your information,” she mutters through a quiet sigh. “Kane is highly sought after among the Unseelie.”
“Great, just what I need.”
She snickers. “I’m just warning you. It’s not my role to question himtoomuch, but others will when he’s not around. Ignore it for now until we’re in a better setting where it can be properly addressed.”
It seems the world’s the same, no matter what side of the wall one finds themselves on. Everyone always hated me as soon as I was paired withdesirablesuitors, and then they were sickly sweet when those proposals fell through.
Sitting here is one of the most boring encounters as silence stretches while Freya moves to sit next to the door. No onecomes near, that much I can smell. I can only stare at the same table for so long before the tension of everything presses against my chest with a reminder so firm it could be carved into stone—even if I’m free of Silas, I donotbelong here.
Do I even belonganywhere?
I can’t stop touching the back of my neck… it’s seriously not a birthmark?
I’m busy biting the inside of my cheek when a scent hits me before Kane even enters. Dark spice. Bloodied steel. Something ancient and wild enough to sink teeth into my nerves.
For a moment, before I see him enter the room, I think I may have dreamed everything. That perhaps I read the room wrong and fell victim to Kane’s manipulation, that even his scent could be some trick, some slow, cruel way to unravel me.
When he enters the room, I don’t look at him. The more I think about it, the more positive I am that heismessing with me. Instead, I notice how Freya behaves with him like Lawrence did with Silas. It’s the only thing about Kane that feels familiar to me. That cold dominance. That unstated threat.
“Mockingbird is successful,” he states.
I’m on my feet faster than I’d like to have been. The habit of moving swiftly when a High Lord speaks is a hard one to break. Kane moves slowly toward me, grabbing my arm as he turns to Freya. “Follow closely.”
The touch of his hand sears through the fabric of my sleeve. Having such little space between us is distracting, nearly pressing against such a muscled mass of capability. Once we’re among more of his people, their vicious gazes hotly raking over me, I confirm to myself that no matter what, I’m far from achieving any ounce of safety. “What’s happening?” I grind out, trying to claim some control here.
A few Unseelie look at me like I’ve just done something terrible for speaking to him in such a way. When their gazesflit up to Kane, they immediately face back ahead and focus on something else.
“We’re leaving,” Kane replies, voice pitched so low only I can hear it.
We don’t stop at the corridor opens wider, stone ceilings soaring up into a network of ancient archways. “Why did they look at my like that? I ask once there’s enough distance between us. “I mean, other than the obvious. I feel like I’m missing a social cue and would rather not stand out more than I already do.”
“You asked me a question,” he says without pausing.
“Are people not allowed to ask you questions?”
“No. They ask Freya or Osman.”
“Why?” I ask, pursing my lips out of decorum now that I know this isn’t allowed. Old habits truly die hard. Not even Silas was this strict.
“It’s not how I desire to reign. Not right now, anyway. My presence should command without a single word. It works best among people who are starving for change.”
There’s something about that statement that hits me all at once. He’s a real being, with desires, motives, and strategy. And an ego. My mind immediately aligns him with all the others I met, all the Lords and those that the world reveres from the outside. So many fail to realize they’re just mortals, even if they live longer than humans. They obey their own desires like the rest of us.
I fell to that very enigma from Kane, like I’m a commoner.
