Page 46 of A Reign of Malice
“No,” I whisper then hiccup. “I mean…I don’t think so. But even if he does, screw him.” I sway on my feet, spinning my finger in a lazy circle above my head. “I’m yours. All yoursssss.”
The sharp edges of his expression soften into something warm, something devastatingly tender. “Hearing you say that is more than I deserve,” he says quietly. “But Sloane, you have to be careful. Please.”
“I am.” I nod so hard my spirit form nearly topples. “Estee and Isla are here. They’re badass queens, and they’ve got my back. We even have a plan. A goddess is coming. Aurora. She’s gonna save the day.”
Julian’s face freezes, his jaw clenching tight. “The original goddess?”
The cave sways, my spirit flickering at the edges. “Dunno. Don’t remember. Everything’s spinning…”
“Sloane.” He takes a step forward, the water around his waist rippling ominously. “You can’t trust them. No matter what they offer, gods and goddesses always have their own games to play.”
My stomach lurches violently, and my knees buckle. “Uh oh. I think I’m gonna?—”
“Sloane!”
I can’t hold it. The world flips upside down, my spirit slamming back into my body with all the grace of a falling boulder. My eyes snap open, and I immediately hurl all over Clara’s shoes.
“Oh, gods.” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, grimacing. “I’m so sorry.”
Clara stands frozen, nostrils flaring as she glares down at her ruined footwear. “That better have sobered you up.”
She shakes her foot violently, flicking chunks of vomit onto the stone floor before groaning. “Damn it. This I actuallydohave to clean up.”
“No, you don’t,” a voice says from the shadows.
The four of us freeze, heads snapping toward the hallway.
Dasha stands at the edge of the corridor, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, a storm of conflicting emotions painted across her face. Guilt. Resolve. Fear.
Well, shit.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
SLOANE
Dasha steps forward, the torchlight casting shadows across her face and highlighting the strain around her eyes and the tight line of her mouth. For a moment, no one speaks, the drunken haze clinging to the air like fog after a storm. My nausea retreats, leaving only the heavy sensation of knowing this isn’t just some innocent run-in.
One that has me feeling not as drunk as I did just minutes ago.
“Dasha.” My voice is hoarse. “What are you doing down here?”
Her fingers twitch at her sides, as if she’s debating whether to fold her hands or ball them into fists. “I could ask you the same thing, Your Majesty.”
Estee and Isla sober up faster than I would’ve thought possible, both of them straightening as their warrior instincts kick in. Clara steps slightly in front of me, her stance protective, but I touch her elbow. This isn’t a fight. Not yet anyway.
“I’m supposed to be reporting your movements tonightback to Aeson,” she admits, voice softer than I expected. “But I haven’t.”
That catches me off guard. I exchange a quick glance with Clara, who lifts a brow. “Why not?” I press, unsure if I want the answer.
Dasha’s shoulders slump, and she looks down, studying the uneven stone floor beneath our feet. “Because I’ve been pretending not to see things for a long time. If I reported every incident I noticed that might, even in the slightest way, threaten Aeson, half this kingdom would be dead.” Her voice is thin, almost brittle. “And so would my brother.”
“Your brother?” Isla asks, her brow furrowing. “What does he have to do with this?”
Dasha’s eyes glance up, just long enough for me to see the flicker of fear she’s been hiding. “Everything. Aeson keeps him close. Not as an advisor, but as a warning. Every day I follow orders is another that my brother gets to live. If I step out of line…”
The implication slams into me like a punch to the chest.
“Gods,” Estee mutters. “That’s twisted.”
