Page 104 of Pawn of the Cruel Princess
After she left to give him her condolences, she was gone for three hours. I tried not to think what she might have been doing with him during that time. In the dungeon she made it clear that she does not love me. That there is no future in any love between us.
Perhaps she wasn’t really joking when she spoke of practicing on me to prepare for Ward. Perhaps she fucked him this morning, while I lay in our bed regaining my strength. But if the experience was pleasant, why does she look at him with such apprehension? Why is she so reluctant to smoke the stick in her hand?
I touch her back gently. “Ruelle.”
She startles hard, staring at me with wide eyes. Her pupils are oddly dilated.
“Did he give you something this morning, when you went to see him?” I ask under my breath.
Her jaw tightens, and she nods once.
My pulse kicks up. “Did he hurt you?”
She hesitates, biting her lip, then shakes her head. “Not like you’re thinking.”
“Doesn’t matter what I’m thinking,” I growl. “He’s done for.”
Her eyes spark, fire returning to her gaze. “Not if I kill him first.”
With another nod, she lifts the stick and inhales. I lean in, touching the end of my stick to hers. Mine lights quickly too, and I fill my lungs with the warm, crackling smoke.
A truth-telling blend holds no terrors for me. I have no secrets left, except perhaps a few about military posts along the border. Not that I care if those are disclosed.
But my body is still unsettled from the poison, and as the blend coils in my lungs, it triggers a cough, which is much too close to a gag. My stomach roils, and I gulp back nausea.
I can’t vomit in here. I need to control myself.
I step closer to the windows. I can’t open one without drawing the attention of Vienne and her guards, but the air seems fresher here. I rest my forehead against the cool glass.
This close, I can see outside a little. I can discern the line where the rain has slanted under the overhang and darkened the floor of the veranda. Chairs and tables lying empty in the cold gloom. And I can see something else, the naked form of a man lying near the window, face upturned, eyes vacant—
My stomach drops.
It’s the younger of the two guards who flogged me.
He is lying outside on the veranda.
And he is also standing by a door on the other side of the room.
33
I don’t want to spill any truths, especially not about what happened in Ward’s suite—but I inhale the truth-blend smoke anyway, because I can feel Vienne’s eyes on me.
I will give her no excuse to kill me or my thrall.
When she sees the smoke curling from my lips, her gaze moves on, traveling the room. Everyone is smoking now. For the thralls and guards, it’s a rare privilege, and for the nobles, it’s a familiar, soothing habit.
I inhale again, glancing at Ducayne, who has moved away and is leaning against the window. He looks terrible. He should be in bed resting after what I did to him. He shouldn’t have to endure the murderous vagaries of my power-mad sister.
Suddenly Ducayne straightens. His hand snaps out, closing around my wrist, a death-grip. It’s my knife-arm, the one I’m trying to keep behind me so Vienne doesn’t see my weapon.
“What?” I snarl.
Ducayne turns, and a deadly chill snakes along my spine at the look of shock and horror on his face. Silently he jerks his head toward the window. He steps aside so I can sidle closer to it and look out.
At first I see nothing. Rain, and tables, and darkness. And then, something—a shape, a man—one I recognize. A bodyguard of Vienne’s, the one who went to check on Bazra and brought back news of his death. The stocky one with the cruel eyes.
But all her bodyguards are accounted for. They’re all standing in the room with us right now. Including the one with the cruel eyes—though as I examine him, I realize that he isn’t wearing his typical malevolent expression.
