Page 90 of Taken By the Vicious Highlander
“Dinnae call me that. Ye cannae call me that anymore. We arenae friends.”
Ariah dipped her head and bit her bottom lip to keep from shaking.
A sharp, bitter taste filled Lilith’s mouth. She felt sick, her pulse pounding in her ears. “Ye are with child, and ye still did this? Kennin’ that ye carry a bairn? Ye put yer own child in danger?”
Ariah’s breath hitched, and she looked away. “I didnae?—”
“Ye didnae what? Think? Care?” Lilith cut her off, stepping closer to the bars, her fingers curling around the iron so tightlythat her knuckles turned white. “Ye’re carryin’ a child out of wedlock, and instead of protectin’ it, ye plotted against me? Poisoned me? What if I had died, Ariah? What if the babe inside ye had suffered for it? Tell me why!”
Ariah closed her eyes, her hands clenching into fists, but she said nothing.
Lilith shuddered. “If ye ever get out of this mess, he must marry ye—forgiveness or nae.”
Ariah looked up at her then, her lips parted as if she wanted to say something. But she hesitated.
Lilith’s vision blurred with the sting of unshed tears, her heart breaking under the weight of betrayal. “Why, Ariah? Why would ye plot against me? After everything we’ve been through? Everything we’ve shared?”
Ariah remained silent, her jaw tight, her body rigid.
Lilith let out a strangled cry and her fury boiled over. Before she could stop herself, her palm smacked against the cold stone. A sharp sting shot through her fingers, radiating up her arm, but she barely felt it over the rage burning in her chest.
She took a shuddering breath, her voice thick with fury. “If ye’ll nae talk to me, perhaps Damon’s more unconventional approach may loosen yer tongue. The Second Aragain doesnae take kindly to traitors.”
She turned on her heel and stormed out, her breathing ragged, her pulse hammering. The ache in her chest was unbearable, the weight of shattered trust pressing down on her like a boulder. But she would not look back.
Ariah had made her choice, and I have made mine.
By the time she reached her chambers, her hands were shaking. She pressed them against her temples, trying to steady herself, but the anger still roiled within her, sharp and unrelenting, and she hissed at the pain in one of them.
Shouldnae have slammed me hand into the wall. So stupid.
Lilith couldn’t give herself leave to dwell on the conversation between her and Ariah. She needed to talk to Damon. She needed to tell him.
But when she found him, he was distant. He stood near the window of his study, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable.
“Did ye ken about Ariah? About the child?” she asked quietly.
He nodded once. “Ryder told me.”
Lilith studied him, frustration bubbling up inside her. “And?”
“And nothin’,” he said flatly. “She’s made her choice, and she’ll live with the consequences.”
Lilith frowned. “Damon, we need to talk about?—”
“Nay, Lilith.” His voice was firmer now, colder. “I have too much to handle, with the festival comin’, with Tristan still out there. I cannae do this right now.”
Her heart sank. He was pulling away. She could feel it.
Damon continued, unrelentingly so—each sentence felt like a blow. “Ariah’s in the dungeons. What more do ye wish for me to do? I couldnae even save ye from yer best friend. Good choice on that, by the way—that surely turned out well.”
His fingers drove through the strands out of place on his head with furious force, and Lilith blinked back tears.
“She’s still me friend!” she bit out, and immediately recoiled at the crazed look in Damon’s eyes.
“She’sstillyer friend? Are ye daft? She’s nay friend of yers! She just tried to kill ye, Lilith!”
“She didnae wish to?—”
