Chapter Fifteen #3
“No,” he says with a wry smile. “But at least I’m certain of how you feel about me. And I think there’s a part of you that agrees with what I’m saying even if you dislike me personally. I want you by my side.”
This is exactly what I wanted. What we wanted, Adria, Larus, and I.
I’m not sure how to play it. If I seem too eager, he’ll see right through me. But I don’t want to refuse him outright either.
I think of what Larus would tell me if I had the chance to ask him. He’d suggest I play up my insecurities. Fish for a compliment.
“Why? It’s not like I’m great in a fight,” I say. And this is true. I’ve had my ass handed to me by every single person I’ve faced in the last several days. I hate it, but Adria was right about that much.
“You would’ve killed Nico if I hadn’t been there, and you beat Marcella. Don’t let her arrogance unnerve you. She talked down to you because she knew you were the only one who could’ve stopped her. You shouldn’t sell yourself short.”
Perfection. And deeply satisfying to hear, although I hardly think besting a literal child counts for much.
Gods, I hate how much I love to hear his praise. I wish I could forget that Soren had existed. There was something about him that was so validating, so empowering. To know how much he trusted me. To feel the way I impacted him, the way he wanted me…
It hurts a little to imagine that it was all part of whatever scheme Ronan isn’t sharing with me.
Because there has to be a scheme here. I refuse to believe he’s being open and honest with me for fun, no matter what he says. He seems like a fool, but I don’t doubt that he would play one if it gave him an advantage.
It’s what I would do.
Maybe what we want is the same thing. I want to get close to him to have the chance to strike. He wants to keep me close so he can stop me from doing so.
Although if he wanted to, he could eliminate me as a threat at any time. And maybe Adria would start a war over it, or maybe like the house of the man who died in the throne room, she’d take it as a lesson.
I almost laugh. Who am I kidding? She’d definitely start a war over it, even if she had no way of winning.
It’s the way she shows her love.
Staying close to each other benefits us both. I can think of one thing that could keep me there, at least temporarily. “What about Vesper?” I ask. “What do you think happened to her?”
“I’m hoping Marcella will be able to tell us something. I’m very grateful to you for keeping Marcella alive, by the way.”
“She seemed willing to talk,” I say, not mentioning the fact that delivering the killing blow seems to be something I struggle with.
“I thought that someone had found out about my shadow-born, and that they were tracking them down one by one. But either that isn’t the case at all, and the fact that Vesper went missing around the same time that Marcella stopped showing up is a coincidence, or Marcella was involved in her disappearance. Either way, I’ll find out.”
There’s a knock at the door then.
“It’s Taran,” says Ronan, and it disturbs me a bit that he can do that. “Come in.”
“She’s awake,” Taran says without opening the door all the way.
“Be there shortly.”
Ronan looks from me to Taran and then down into his own lap as Taran closes the door. “I hate to disappoint you, but I’m afraid he’s a lost cause.” He clenches his jaw and looks into my eyes. I see a hint of jealousy there. “He loves men. And I do mean ‘loves.’ A hopeless romantic, that one.”
My heart sinks a bit more than I expected, but not because of Taran. “Do you mean that you and he—?”
“Oh no,” says Ronan. “No, that’s not my preference. And he’s like a brother to me. Although I do suspect he loved me a little once, but then, who doesn’t?”
“Oh, fuck off,” I say, rising to my feet.
“I’m glad you still feel you can say things like that to me. It would be a pity to get anything less from you than your whole self.”
He’s right—I shouldn’t say things like that to the king. Even Adria treats him with respect.
But he likes it, and I enjoy it greatly, so I don’t intend to stop.
Then I think about the rest of what he said. About getting my whole self.
I know I won’t be giving that to him, but I can’t help but think of what it would mean for him to “get” me, even the part of me I’m willing to give. As a friend? Something more?
I swore I wouldn’t take him into my bed. But I was ready to take Soren there. And Ronan is Soren.
How much of it was real? How much of any of it is real?
“Did you tell me about Taran because you’re jealous?” My heart pounds as the words leave my lips. I can barely believe I’ve dared to ask him, but there’s a part of me that’s desperate to know.
For the sake of the plan, I tell myself.
His hand twitches at his side as he rises to face me. He speaks softly again, that same damned voice that feels like bathing in sunlight on a cold winter’s day. “Maybe there are some parts of Soren’s life that I’ll miss.”
And gods, maybe it’s just manipulation, but it absolutely melts me.
The air between us is still and heavy. I scarcely dare to breathe it in. He hasn’t moved, but I can almost imagine him reaching for me. I can picture his hand grazing my cheek. Feel his phantom fingertips on my skin, warm and smooth.
I can feel the pull of him. The way his light draws me in. A soft, inviting glow.
I am a moth, and he is the moon.
“Good night, Ronan,” I say, and I bow to him, my eyes lingering on his lips as I do. I feel an ache in my chest, a hunger. And, just like the twinge of jealousy, I lean into it.
It can only help, after all.
“Thank you, Sylvie,” he says, his voice breathless.