Chapter Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Seven
The sun slants through the tall castle windows, gilding the dressing room. Linen shirts and embroidered jackets spill from the open wardrobe like molting feathers as I dig through them, muttering to myself.
Whatever I choose has to be perfect. It has to say, I’m the same manipulative ass you’ve come to know and love, and yes, you can totally trust me even though I’m clearly awful. Because if we’re going to pull this off, Alderic has to be believable. He has to become Alder.
Which is ironic since this whole thing started with Alder pretending to be Alderic.
I hold up a double-breasted velvet coat with gold buttons, wrinkle my nose, and toss it aside. I reach for a deep burgundy jacket with gold trim and a high collar when the door creaks open behind me.
“I didn’t expect to find you here.”
Alder’s voice curls through the room like smoke, dark, thick, and uninvited. My spine stiffens before I turn, carefully schooling my expression. The man who thought he owned me, then carved out my heart like it was payment.
He doesn’t know it yet, but I’m about to rip the rug out from under him.
I lift the coat from the wardrobe like it’s any other garment, not the costume for the lie I’m about to wrap around Alderic’s shoulders. “I needed to grab something.”
He leans against the doorframe, casual in that carefully sharpened way of his. “For me?” He’s so calm. So self-assured. It makes me nauseous.
“For the banquet,” I reply coolly, draping the coat over my arm.
A pause. Then a slow, amused smile curves his lips. “I assumed if I asked you to join me, you’d say no out of spite.”
I bite the inside of my cheek so hard I taste blood.
Because of course he thinks that. Of course my boundaries, my grief, my gut-punched betrayal couldn’t possibly be mine—they must be some petty rebellion. It must be spite. As if my existence revolves around him.
Arrogant, insufferable ass.
“Luckily, I was already informed about the banquet. I’m borrowing your coat to see if someone can fashion a dress before tonight. Something dramatic. Blood red, maybe. Or funeral black.”
A flicker of emotion dances across his face—amusement, maybe, but it’s chased quickly by curiosity.
He takes a step forward, and I swear the room gets smaller. “And you decided to go rifling through my clothes yourself? You could’ve sent someone.”
They’re not your clothes, I think, biting back a scoff. You’re not Lord Lockhart. You’re just very good at pretending to be him.
But that’s the game I’m playing too, isn’t it?
“I could’ve,” I say, lifting a brow. “But then I wouldn’t get to see that look on your face when I take what I need without asking.”
That gets a real smile—crooked and slow, like it’s wrapping around something filthy in his mind. “Careful, sweetheart. You say things like that, and I’ll start thinking you enjoy this.”
I let the silence linger, feel it crawl up the back of my spine. Then I turn, slowly, and lift my gaze through my lashes like the heroine of a sad, manipulative romance.
I guess that’s exactly who I am.
“I was wrong last night. About…everything.”
He blinks, then pushes away from the doorframe. “You’ll have to be more specific. You’ve been wrong about a lot of things lately.”
A thousand retorts press against my teeth like the edge of a blade. I could slash him open with the truth. But I don’t. I swallow the metal, wrap my lies in velvet, and keep going.
“I thought I could do this alone,” I say, voice quiet, carefully frayed at the edges. “But I can’t. I need you.”
He crosses his arms, his expression unreadable. “That’s a change in tune.”
I look away, chewing the inside of my cheek like I’m trying not to cry instead of trying not to puke. “You’ve always been there for me. Protected me. And I—” I force a breath, blinking fast like I’m holding back tears. “I took everything for granted. I took you for granted.”
He’s silent, gaze sharp enough to cut through bone. “Just like that?” he says finally, voice low and skeptical. “You wake up this morning and decide the world’s too scary to face alone, so now I’m suddenly the answer?”
Shit.
I swallow, heart skidding in my chest.
For one awful second, I think he’s not going to buy it. That he’ll call my bluff and walk away, and then all of this—all the risk, all the venom I choked down to pull this off—will be for nothing.
So I do what I always do with him. I act.
Only this time, I know from the start that I’m acting.
I’ve spent so long pretending with him, twisting myself into the version he wanted, the one who adored him, needed him…
The part is so easy to step into that it’s hard for me to understand how I never saw it before.
The only time I’ve actually felt real is when I’m with the man who looks just like Alder but couldn’t be more different.
I blink up at him. “You think I like this? Begging for forgiveness? You think it’s easy for me to admit I was wrong?” I take a step closer, as if drawn to him. “But I was. You were right.” My voice thickens with desperation. “I can’t survive without you.”
Alder takes a slow step toward me, eyes gleaming. “Say that again.”
I grit my teeth so hard my skull aches. But I make my voice small, cracked. “You were right. I can’t survive without you.”
“Hmm.” He circles me, a shark scenting blood, then laughs softly, but there’s steel beneath the sound. “And now you’re here to make it right with a few pretty words?”
I offer him a small, trembling smile. “I’m here to ask for your help. I need you to save me like you always do.”
His eyes flare with something dark and he steps forward, brushing his knuckles lightly along the curve of my jaw.
It’s gentle, but it makes my skin crawl.
“Then you’d better clean yourself up,” he murmurs, thumb ghosting beneath my lower lip.
“Wouldn’t want the kingdom thinking you’ve been crying over me. ”
I laugh, too brightly, too breathily. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
He leans in, breath warm. “Oh, sweetheart. I don’t need to. You’re already doing it for me.”
Then he turns and disappears into the main room, leaving only the specter of his grin and the wreckage of my nerves in his wake.
A shudder slips down my spine. I need a bath.
My fingers tighten around the coat until the velvet crushes in my grip. I exhale slowly, trying to purge the feeling of him from my skin, from my lungs.
He thinks he won, but he has no idea what’s coming.