Page 8 of Revert
Dying. “On the nature of time.” I watched his reaction closely. While pondering my situation, I couldn’t shake the possibility that I wasn’t the only one who had gone back in time. If my killer also shared knowledge of the upcoming events, I would be in serious jeopardy.
He paused before a faint smirk toyed his lips. “An unusual subject for a princess.”
I didn’t return his amusement with my usual strained smile, in no mood to play our usual game. “I’ve always found time to be deceptive—it slips past unnoticed, until it’s too late to change anything.”
“Or until one stops trying.”
I stiffened. The words almost exactly mirrored what he’d told me just before he drove the sword through my heart. Hisexpression remained impassive, giving nothing away, making me wonder if I was chasing shadows from a life that had already ended.
He seated himself at the table, but I didn’t immediately join him. He noticed my hesitation, and with a faint gesture he commanded me to sit. I shakily obeyed his silent order and settled across from him, spine straight despite the trembling inside me, my mask firmly in place.
Tension had always been one of the courses served during tea, but today it seemed to have been an ingredient folded into every dish. What had once been guarded tedium now felt like navigating a death trap, every word potentially one that would seal my fate. Moments into our seemingly endless meal and I was already counting down the minutes until I could make my escape.
“You seemed shaken this morning,” Prince Castiel observed as he poured a cup of tea from the silver set between us. “I was told you had a…disturbing dream.”
Of course word had reached the monarchy, but I was admittedly surprised it had reached him before his father. I accepted the cup with hands that, miraculously, remained steady. “The kind that lingers.”
“Should I be concerned?”
If anxiety hadn’t had its claws buried deep in me, I might have been tempted to snort.Concernwas not an emotion Prince Castiel extended to anyone—certainly not to me.
I forced myself to meet his gaze. “You have far more important matters to concern yourself with. It was just a dream, but it made me realize that I’ve been far too trusting. I intend to be more discerning moving forward.”
His expression didn’t change. “An admirable trait for a future queen.”
If I survived long enough to wear the crown. Instinctively, I rubbed my hand over my heart, finding solace in each steady beat against my fingertips, a reassurance that I was here, that I wasalive.
Silence stretched between us, taut as a bowstring, yet one that was almost grounding in its familiarity. Prince Castiel was a man of precise habits. He always took his tea plain without cream or sugar, never partook of the sweets from our spread. He methodically buttered a single scone, which he ate while spending our time together reviewing documents while I sat across from him, a decorative fixture in his day.
Once I’d found his blatant indifference infuriating, but over time I’d come to welcome the reprieve it offered from my usual need to perform.
I expected the same ritual today, but to my astonishment, instead of withdrawing into paperwork, he gave me his full attention. For he briefest moment, he looked almost...shy, but the fleeting expression vanished almost immediately, replaced by a slight furrow of his brow that made me wonder if I’d imagined the emotion.
“You’re not going to eat?” The question sounded innocent on the surface, but in my paranoia it felt like a challenge.
I flinched, jostling the table along with my untouched plate of sandwiches and cakes. “I’m afraid I don’t have much of an appetite.”
I bit my lip and lifted the cup, subtly sniffing the tea for any trace of poison, though the test would only be able to detect certain toxins that had a distinctive scent or turned the liquid an unnatural color.
I tried to be discreet, but I could feel the weight of his unblinking gaze on me, tracking every move…making me fear that despite my best efforts, he was already at work uncovering my deception in this timeline.
“It’s not poisoned,” he said.
My hand jerked, sloshing tea over the rim. “Of course not. I was just—” No excuse came. My mind scrambled for something plausible, but found nothing. I silently cursed myself. Barely minutes into our first meeting in this timeline, and I had already given him reason to suspect me.
Left with no other option, I braced myself and took a cautious sip. I swirled the tea on my tongue. The tea tasted as it always did—rich, citrusy, bitter—but I detected no unusual flavor, nor did I feel any abnormal change in my body.
He continued watching me, my rigid posture doing little to escape his keen observation. “If it would ease your mind,” he said placidly, “I can switch cups.”
His calm offer did little to reassure me. My mind spun through a series of mental gymnastics, trying to determine whether his cup had held the poison all along, and whether the switch had been his intention from the start. I knew my unnatural behavior only made me appear more suspicious, but terror was not so easily cast aside.
I felt as cornered as I had the night before when faced with his raised sword and there was nowhere left to run. When I remained frozen, he let out a heavy sigh. “You can rest assured, Princess—underhanded tactics aren’t in my nature.”
Strangely, his directness was what finally put me at ease. It was too soon for him to kill me, and the first time he hadn’t concealed his sinister intent. I took another cautious sip, doing my best to project calm, though the tension knotting in my stomach made me feel I might be sick.
His expression betrayed neither frustration nor satisfaction, no hint of a trap successfully sprung, giving me reason to hope I was safe…for now.
I desperately sought a distraction to deflect from my unusual behavior, especially when he made no move to pore overhis papers. Instead, he buttered a second scone with slow, meticulous movements, as if waiting for me to fill the silence that had always been our customary guest during these routine teas.
