Another time, hetore out the spineof the old butler for sneaking medicine to a house slave the guards had injured in a drunken night.
He had Terry battered bloody by Hilda with the rod for running through the front atrium to the courtyard, when she should have used the hidden walkways for the slaves. Mind you, she was running from a black wasp that had taken a liking to her. Those are deadly to us humans without the right medicine to treat the stings.
It seems cruelty is more than the company he keeps—heiscruelty.
Explains why Elden and Daein are so close. Supposedly, Elden is the worst of them all. So much so that no one seems all that keen on tellinghisstories. They are too wicked to speak aloud.
Daein, despite his pleasurable touch, floods me with ice-cold fear. Each time his hand lifts, I startle, unsure whether it’s to cup my face or strike me down. When his mouth touches me, I shiver at the potential kiss and the just-as-likely bite of my flesh.
Elden, on the other hand, makes me simply want to run straight to the pink lake, just to end it all myself before he can get his hands on me.
Still, both would be a challenge to survive. I know that about Daein. Especially now that the effects of the white powder are starting to fade away. It’s creeping closer to the First Wind, according to the shivering, blackened tree branches beyond the courtyard, and I can feel the beginnings of a cough brewing in my chest.
It’s time.
This Quiet, I will go to his chambers ...
Maybe.
I don’t know.
When I’m with him, all my reasoning goes out the window, and I would do anything to have his lips on mine, his almost-kisses caressing me, his hot mouth on my heat. But when we are apart, sense starts to sink into me and I hate myself for what is budding between us.
Stuffing the cloth bag of sweets into my pocket, I push out a huff and turn my back to the window. What’s the point of even looking for him in the courtyard, waiting for him to return to the castle? Just so I can get all lust-sick and silly again?
But then, it’s not exactly like I can avoid him, can I?
It’s my duty to wait on him. I see him most days, in all times but the Quiet—well, even then sometimes. It’s an impossible task to hide from him.
Unless...
“Maybe you could swap chores with me?” I ask Terry, cutting into the silence that had fallen over her at some point.
Too many sweets roll around her mouth. “Why?”
“So you can deliver the prince’s breakfast and teas, and I can wait on the guards and officials instead.”
That’s what she does in the start of the Warmth. The guards have their own quarters, and she takes their meals to them with the help of Archer and Gary, and also before we serve in the Hall.
Guards tend to drift and out of the kitchens throughout the times as well.
“Why would you want me to do that?” She sits up, pushed up on her elbows, and watches me with a frown wrinkling her face.
I cross my arms over my chest. “He made me an offer,” I confess. “Each time I come to his bedchambers and ... let him do things to me ... you know,” I add with a wiggle of my eyebrows that has Terry choking on a laugh. “He’ll give me the white powder.”
“And that’s bad, because...?”
I set my jaw before I throw my gaze up the winding staircase—the abandoned tower. “What happened to them? All of his lovers from the past, what were their fates?”
“Hmm.” Terry sighs through her flaring nostrils and sits upright. “Well, I wasn’t here for those times. But I’ve heard things. Mostly from Hilda.” A small smile plays on her lips. “Hilda thought that, when I arrived, the prince might take a shine to me because ... Well, come on,” she adds and gestures to her spectacular face. I catch myself smiling. “So she told me some stories to scare me off of him.”
“Stories like what?”
“Lies, probably. You know Hilda. She’ll do and say anything to protect her favourites.”
I hum, unconvinced.
“Tell me just one, then.”