Chapter 24 #2
Through furrowed brows, he doesn’t respond right away, choosing instead to watch her intently for a long, silent moment.
It makes Rhea uncomfortable, feeling like someone is nearly seeing through her bullshit.
So she reinforces her mask and lifts her chin, finding the willpower to hold his intensely assessing stare.
Finally, he shakes his head, clearing his throat and resetting his expression.
“No,” he says, his brash tone returning, though noticeably…
different. He sweeps his eyes down the length of her once more, but it is quick and efficient.
In the way one does more as an obligation than actual interest. “You look beautiful.”
Despite her desire to roll her eyes at the sentence she’s sure is entirely forced, she instead manages to find a pretty smile in her arsenal and paint it across her lips. “Thank you. You look…handsome.”
He laughs, the sound seeming genuine. “That sentence seemed to pain you more than a dagger wound.”
Her next smile comes easily. “It did.” She reaches for her mask off her bed before stepping through the threshold and shutting her door, not needing to bring anything else tonight other than her best fabricated laugh and cultivated doe-eyed gaze.
“But since I’ve been instructed to play nice tonight, forbidden from sticking a blade through your heart, it seems I am required to say it nonetheless. ”
Like some psychopath, that sentence makes him grin wider, and Rhea can’t detect an ounce of falseness to the gesture. He holds out his arm for her to take. She flicks her eyes down at it, meeting his gaze after with a pointed brow.
“Come on, Rhea,” he pleads. “You’ve said it yourself—we’ve both been instructed to play nice tonight, so let’s just…do it. At least for the evening.”
Remaining silent, she simply arches her brow higher.
Finlay heaves a sigh, looking at her imploringly. “Look, for tonight and tonight only, let’s agree to a truce, alright? Then, as soon as the sun rises over the horizon, you and I can go back to hating each other once more like tonight never happened.”
“And if I refuse?”
He levels her with a knowing look. “We’re both under orders, Rhea. No matter what you say or how difficult you try to be, you and I both know we can’t be at each other’s throats tonight. So, we might as well try to make a pleasant evening of it. Perhaps we’ll even enjoy ourselves.”
She inspects her nails. “The words you, pleasant, and enjoy have no business being in a sentence together.”
He huffs a laugh, shaking his head as if accepting that comment. “Be that as it may,” he pushes, motioning once more for her to take his arm. “Let’s just try. Who knows, maybe we’ll find we actually like each other by the end of the night.”
Rhea finally allows her eyes to fall back to his. “Not possible,” she deadpans, taking his arm in a way that shows Finlay she isn’t happy about it.
“True,” he agrees, now leading her down the blue carpeted corridor. “But I think you’ll be surprised to learn I can be quite charming.”
“The only thing charming about you is when your mouth is shut.”
“So you’re saying I’m good to look at?”
“I’m saying you’re a pompous asshole, and the only time it’s possible to forget that is when you’re not talking.”
He laughs, and Rhea eyes him sidelong, a strange feeling moving about her stomach.
Everything about this feels odd. Them talking, him laughing.
Still, she has no choice, because though she won’t admit it to Finlay, he’s right—she does have her orders to fulfill this evening, so she might as well make the best of it.
“What mask have you chosen for the ball?” he asks, jerking his chin toward the silver and black item clutched in her hand, the glittering jewels outlining its edges glinting from the braziers.
She glances down at it with indifference. “Nothing special.”
“It matches your hair,” he points out.
Rhea snorts at him in slight amusement, slight annoyance.
“I’ll bet your mask matches your hair, too.
It’s probably white and blue and caked with gemstones.
” She taps a finger against her chin. “In fact, I’d wager coin on it.
” She makes a show of scanning him. “Where is the thing? Come on, might as well show it to me.”
He laughs, the sound dry but also… still genuine. “You’ll see it once we arrive at the ball.”
They round a corner, heading toward the stairwell leading to the main courtyard, where Draven, Kiran, and a few others should be waiting for them to depart for Talderine.
Finlay looks down at Rhea. “Why do you think Tynan and my father are instructing us to go to this ball together, anyways?”
She shrugs, her answer not entirely a lie. “Your guess is as good as mine.” Sure, she knows the information she is meant to extract from Finlay this evening, but she hasn’t the slightest clue what Tynan intends to do with it. “Maybe they want to fix the rift wedged between us?”
He scoffs. “Doubtful.” A pause, and then, with a quick sidelong glance at Rhea, he asks, “Think that’s possible?”
“Not a fucking chance.”
A ghost of a smile haunts his lips.
They reach the winding stairwell at last, and Rhea steps forward, prepared to descend the first step. Yet Finlay gently wraps his fingers around her bare arm and halts her, holding her in place. His grip is surprisingly warm; she had always thought it would be cold as ice.
She glances up at him, a crease forming between her eyes. “What is it?”
He pushes his tongue into his cheek, sliding his jaw side-to-side as he appears to grasp for the words he’s stopped her to say.
“I just,” he begins, snapping his mouth shut almost immediately.
His lips thin. Eventually, though, the tight muscles slacken, and he tries again.
“In the spirit of our alliance, I just wanted you to know I meant what I said earlier.” A pause.
“You really do look beautiful tonight, Rhea. Truly. You could bring any man you want to his knees, and I…” His jaw flexes.
“I just wanted you to know the compliment was true.”
She stares at him, confusion clamoring through her at the kind and seemingly sincere words.
How—in spite of who they’re coming from—desperately she wanted to hear that.
She knows her worth and value stems from her own inner thoughts and feelings, but on the days where she feels too empty to fill her own cup, it’s nice to have someone hold the weight temporarily in her place and pour it for her.
It’s not a permanent fix, and she knows that. But…it helps.
If only a little.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, entirely aware that she has never once in her life taken such a sincere tone with him before.
He nods, and as they descend the stairs together, she is utterly floored by feeling such gratitude toward Finlay Fjolla.