King's Cage
Page 47“How many times have you tried to kill me?”
“Just the once.”
“And the sounder was what?” My fingers tremble at the memory. The pain of the device is still fresh in my mind. “Just part of a game?”
Another report flutters in the sunlight, landing facedown. He licks his fingers before raising the next. All business. All for show. “The sounder wasn’t designed to kill you, Mare. Just incapacitate you, if need be.” A strange look crosses his face. Almost smug, but not exactly. “I didn’t even make that thing.”
“Clearly. You’re not one for ideas. Elara, then?”
“Actually it was Cal.”
Oh. Before I can stop myself, I look down, away from him, needing a moment of my own. The sting of betrayal pricks at my insides, if only for a second. It’s no use being angry now.
“I can’t believe he didn’t tell you.” Maven presses on. “He’s usually very proud of himself. A brilliant thing too. But I don’t care for it. I had the device destroyed.” His eyes are on my face. Hungry for a reaction. I keep my expression from changing, despite the sudden skip in my heartbeat. The sounder is gone. Another small gift, another message from the ghost.
“Escaped,” I mumble. Move on. Don’t let him throw you off. Feigning disinterest, I push the rest of my food around my plate. I do my best to look hurt, as Maven wants me to be, but not let myself feel it. I have to stick to the plan. Twist the conversation as I want to twist it. “You forced him away. All so you could take his place, and be exactly like him.”
Like me, Maven forces a laugh to hide how annoyed he is. “You have no idea what he would’ve been like, with the crown on his head.”
I cross my arms, settling back in my chair. This is playing out exactly as I want it to. “I know he would have married Evangeline Samos, continued fighting a useless war, and kept ignoring a country full of angry, oppressed people. Does that sound at all familiar?”
He may be a snake in human form, but even Maven doesn’t have a retort for that. He slaps down the report in front of him. Too quickly. It faces up, just for a second, before he turns it over. I glimpse only a few words. Corvium. Casualties. Maven sees me see them, and he hisses out a sigh of annoyance.
“As if that will help you,” he says quietly. “You’re not going anywhere, so why bother?”
“I suppose that’s true. My life probably won’t last much longer.”
He tips his head. Concern furrows his brow, as I hope it will. As I need it to. “What makes you say that?”
“You know Evangeline won’t let me live. Once she’s queen . . . I’m done for.” My voice trembles, and I push all my fear into the words. I hope it works. He has to believe me. “It’s what she’s wanted since the day I fell into her life.”
He blinks at me. “You don’t think I’ll protect you from her?”
“I don’t think you can.” My fingers pick at my gown. Not as beautiful as the ones made for court, but just as overwrought. “You and I both know how easy it is for a queen to be killed.”
The air ripples with heat as he continues to stare, daring me to meet his gaze. My natural instinct is to glare back, but I lean away, refusing to look at him. It will only incense him further. Maven loves an audience. The moment stretches, and I feel bare before him, prey in the path of a predator. That’s all I am here. Caged, restrained, leashed. All I have left is my voice, and the pieces of Maven I hope I know.
“She won’t touch you.”
“And what about the Lakelanders?” I snap my head back up. Tears of anger spring to my eyes, born of frustration, not fear. “When they rip apart your already-splintering kingdom? What happens when they win this endless war and burn your world to embers?” I scoff to myself, heaving a shuddering breath. The tears fall freely now. They must. I have to sell this with every inch of myself. “I guess then we’ll end up in the Bowl of Bones together, executed side by side.”
By the way he pales, the little color he has draining from his face, I know he’s thought the same thing. It plagues him endlessly, a bleeding wound. So I twist the knife.
“I told you already, I won’t let that happen.”
The snarl I throw his way doesn’t need to be faked. “In what life can I trust anything out of your mouth ever again?”
When he stands, the cold fear pooling in my stomach isn’t fake either. As he rounds the table, crossing to me in lean, elegant strides, I lock every muscle, tensing up so I don’t shake. But I quiver anyway. I brace myself for a blow as he takes my face in disturbingly soft hands, both thumbs tight under my jaw, inches away from digging into my jugular.
His kiss burns worse than his brand.
The sensation of his lips on mine is the worst kind of violation. But for him, for what I need, I keep my hands fisted in my lap. My nails dig into my flesh instead of his. He needs to believe as his brother believed. He needs to choose me, the way I tried to make Cal choose me before. Still, I can’t find it in me to open my mouth, and my jaw remains locked shut.