Chapter 13 #3
There was a part of Vaasa that wanted so badly for Roman to be on her side.
It thrummed in her chest, that wretched hope.
But though she had wanted to trust him, to take a chance, she was not naive enough to let it come at the expense of her freedom.
“No. I want the throne I sold my soul for—not because some husband is too stupid to outwit me, but because it has always belonged to me.”
As she said the words, she realized there was truth woven into them.
There was a part of her that did want the Asteryan throne.
She did believe it belonged to her now, that she had sold her soul a thousand times over each time she learned a new language only for her father to bring those people to their knees.
She had lied because of it, betrayed her own heart because of it, killed her brother because of it.
But it did not belong to her just for the things she had done—it was for the things that had been done to her.
“They took everything from me,” she hissed. Rage, authentic in its origin, spewed from her. “First they took you, then my mother, then they sold me off for bags of salt. So I want the throne because I have sacrificed enough for it, and I will not stop until it is mine.”
Until I have torn it apart, and it can take no more from anyone else.
Roman squared his shoulders, lifting his chin and inspecting her face for any sign of mistruth.
He wouldn’t find it. Her confession held too much honesty, even if an omission lived between the words.
Resolution crossed his mouth in the form of a firm line.
He stepped forward and sank to his knees again, this time closer to her.
Tentatively, he reached out, fingers extended and brushing softly along her cheek.
She tried to look away, but his hand slipped behind her neck and his thumb held her jaw, forcing her to meet his eyes. The brown of them burned.
“I never should have spoken to you that way. I’m sorry.”
She wanted to forgive him—that was the worst part. “Don’t do it again,” she whispered.
“I won’t.” He pushed a strand of her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. His hand hovered there, still holding her cheek, though less forceful now. “I must be the one person you don’t lie to. Promise me that, and I’ll give you whatever you want.”
It was a dangerous line to walk, a terrible tearing of her soul, but she needed access to Amalie more than she needed anything else. If Vaasa could find a way to get to Amalie, she could begin plotting an escape.
The lie slipped out as naturally as breathing. “I promise.”
This place did not breed honesty. She had been born into lies. And anyway, secrets were what her relationship with Roman was built upon.
“You want to see your friend?” he asked. “You believe it’s a risk worth taking?”
She nodded silently.
“All right. On a clear night, I’ll take you.” Roman looked around the empty room. “I should go. I’ve already stayed too long. Will you be able to sleep?”
“Yes,” Vaasa said. “Thank you.”
His touch slid from her cheek. Roman stood from his place on her floor and walked to the entrance of the quarters, looking over his shoulder at her. His hand hovered over the doorknob.
“What is it?” Vaasa asked.
Roman held her stare for a moment longer than he should have. “I hate him. The Wolf. For many things. But if he has known you, and you are not the reason he went to war, then I hate him even more.”
Vaasa’s lips parted, but no words came to her.
What could she say? How could she explain the way her chest tightened in anxiety when she’d heard Reid was injured, the way she wanted to pull the blankets over her head and hide from it?
Because she knew—she knew she was exactly the reason Reid had crossed the border.
He didn’t want the Asteryan throne. He wanted her.
And here she was, staring at the previous love of her life.
Vaasa whispered good night just as Roman closed the door.
The moment it latched, she leapt up from her makeshift bed and pressed her ear to the wood.
Footsteps moved down the hall, away from her, and she let out a long breath.
She replayed the entire interaction, simultaneously enraptured and disgusted with herself.
Quietly, she settled on the couch once more.
Vaasa stared at the fire as it crackled and considered all of what Roman had said tonight.
Thoughts of Reid being injured enough to retreat from battle haunted her. And then Amalie, eyes flashing white with something unknown, the rage with which she’d stared at Ozik. Her mother’s necklace, a puzzle piece she certainly needed to find.
Lord Karev’s invitation tomorrow night.
Vaasa’s fear turned her empty stomach into a pit.
She hadn’t wanted to lie to Roman, but her choices felt narrow.
Another piece of her disappeared as she became exactly what she’d been raised to be.
Manipulative, a backstabber, someone who believed their own lies, or at least their reasons for telling them.
But what if she wasn’t the only one? A larger question lingered in her mind, one detail Roman had yet to mention. How did a man who was supposed to be dead earn the very position that put him in proximity to her?
At the exact moment the Asteryan throne hung in the balance.
Lord Vlacik was trying to use force. Lord Karev was trying to use charm.
Was Roman trying to use her heart?