26. Violette
VIOLETTE
Queen Theia shuts the door to my office behind her, hammering another spike of fear through me. Her voice is so calm that one might otherwise think she were speaking of temperate weather.
“You kidnapped my cousin.”
There is no use denying her accusation. Her mind-seeing magic will no doubt suss out even the vaguest hint of deception.
Why am I this way?
Impulsive.
Vengeful.
Petty.
It’s never served me well, and only ever comes back to haunt me.
I have woefully swift karma.
The day I’d seen the Duchess—the one who denied me my petition for a business loan so I could escape the brothel I’d been working at for over a decade—weeping violently in the rain in front of that portal travel agency, I could very clearly see two paths laid before me.
Forgiveness or petty vengeance.
As per usual, my bitter heart led me to choose the latter.
“Yes. I did.”
Queen Theia blinks at me. Her expression is completely void of emotion.
“Where is she?”
“Terrenea.”
“Why?”
I don’t have an excuse. So, yet again, I opt for the truth.
“Because I am prone to pettiness and cruelty.”
Even if I did intentionally place her within spitting distance of her soulbound.
Queen Theia continues to stare blankly at me.
The hairs on my arms prickle as her magic washes over me. First, like a gentle wave upon a shore, and then stronger—like a crashing tide breaching the barriers of my mind. My stomach churns as I feel it probe through my memories, sifting through them like sand in a sieve.
Panic crawls up my throat as this female violates every private, haunting, and traumatic memory of my past.
Every building block to my character—or perhaps the lack thereof.
My knee-jerk reaction is to fold away, but doing so would surely worsen whatever punishment she has in mind for me.
She peruses my memories at speed—like the dizzying turn of a swiftly rotating kaleidoscope. The further back she travels, the tighter her expression becomes until the pain in her eyes is a mirror to mine.
Her jaw drops, eyes snapping to mine when she realizes who I am.
Who my father is.
The distrust and judgment in her gaze are palpable.
I’m left grinding my teeth against the dizzying and abrasive sensation until she finally leaves my mind as abruptly as she entered it, leaving me ready to hurl the contents of my stomach.
I’m half expecting her to throw me out of Caerwynath.
Not that I could blame her, considering my father conquered her kingdom, Caerwynath, even if only briefly during the war he waged.
Thankfully, however painful, she scoured my mind and memories thoroughly enough to verify that I pose no threat to her.
That I am only here to hide from a male I barely know.
The distrust in her gaze turns to pity as we linger in the silence of my secret.
My stomach heaves, and I’m forced to seize the nearest waste basket.
With a heaved sigh, she eases my fears, all while casually watching me expel the contents of my stomach. “I will keep your secret.”
I spit bile as my stomach roils once more. “Thank you.”
Moments tick by.
“I will keep your secret, Princess.”
Her gaze becomes pointed. Threatening.
“However, if you cause any more trouble in Caerwynath, I will personally deliver you to your father.”
An icy tendril of fear licks up my spine.
My mind leaps to Azrael, as it always does, even after all these years, with the irrational notion that he would keep me safe. I have willed his pin to my fingers on numerous occasions—whether in danger, distress, or general moments of weakness.
I have yet to find the strength, or logic, that would allow me to follow through.
With burning eyes, I give Queen Theia a nod of assent.
“Understood.”
She studies me for a moment longer.
“You will take me to Winnow. Now.”
Setting the waste basket down atop my desk, I brace myself in front of it, head hanging, as I suck in deep breaths and spit the lingering bile in my mouth. I manage a hoarse whisper as I will a portal into place.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”