Page 62 of King of Lies
“We’ll start as friends, and then lovers, and finally, husband and wife. No one will care after a while. We’ll make the most beautiful babies.”
“I think I should go …”
“Yes, do,” she says sharply. “All the way back to the Americas.”
I race out of the room as tears burn my eyes and run right into Leo. “Is everything all right, Miss?”
“Of course,” I reply. I have to lie to him; I can’t tell him the truth. Best case scenario, he’ll think I’m crazy and tell Rhys and Rhys will ship me home. Worst case scenario, she’s right and Rhys will ship me home. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I was thinking you could tell me that,” he says with keen eyes watching me.
“I think I’m coming down with something and need a lie in.”
“As you wish.”
I race back to my rooms and shut the door, locking them. I change into my comfy clothes and go to bed. I don’t eat anything the rest of the day and I don’t show for dinner. I’m not wanted there anyway.
Chapter 24
Vipers
Two days later…
“There you are!” Dahlia says as she sweeps into my room. “I’ve been looking all over for you!” She slams the door shut so hard I can’t help but wince.
Since my failed venture to the library and my tangle with the queen, I’ve been keeping to myself. Maeve and Leo don’t like it. They’ve asked me repeatedly if something happened and it definitely did, but I can’t tell them that.
Maeve has arranged for my meals to be brought to my rooms. It’s kind of like being in a fancy jail. I eat here, sleep here, and once a day, I’m allowed out into the gardens for a walk and fresh air. I hope things change when Rhys gets back. I’m not sure I can take much more of my life like this.
It would be different if we weren’t under the strict mourning rules, but since I’ve been branded as part of the family, I’m not allowed out.
So when Dahlia swings in in the middle of the day, I’m sitting on the sofa by the window, reading. There’s something off about her. Her cheeks are flushed, her complexion is ruddy, and there’s a strange lilting quality to her voice.
“Dahlia …” I hedge. “Are you okay?”
“Just lovely,” she singsongs as she flops into the chair across from me. She reaches down the front of her blouse and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a light. “Fancy a smoke?”
“No, thank you.”
“Suit yourself,” she says with a shrug of her shoulders as she flips open the lighter.
“Please don’t—” I start but she cuts me off.
“Why shouldn’t I?” she snaps. “I’m tired of being told what to do, who I can talk to, who I can date. What I can eat, how much I’m allowed to weigh. It’s not fair.”
And really, she’s not wrong; that does sound awful.
“Okay. There’s a lot to unpack here and not all of it is great,” I tell her. “But maybe we shouldn’t take up smoking. It’ll give you wrinkles and yellow teeth, not to mention emphysema and lung cancer.”
“You really are a goody two shoes, aren’t you?” she blinks at me and I feel a little embarrassed.
“Umm … kind of.”
“I like that,” she whispers.
“Me too.”
She leans in to hug me and … hiccoughs. It’s then that I smell the gin on her breath. “Dahlia …?”
