Chapter 23 Confessions
Confessions
Prince.
“Oh, I am so stupid—I thought you knew,” Jasmeen cries, pacing back and forth before me in a frenzy. The wooden floor creaks rhythmically with each step she takes, like a panicked metronome in time with my hollow heartbeat. I remain seated on the bed. Unmoving. Numb.
Prince. Vir isn’t a common name.
“Fuck! Everybody knows him—I assumed—I should have known. I should have said—”
As Jasmeen explained what now feels like an eternity ago, Vir is the High Sanctuarian word for prince. No one knows his true name and he was never given a common name. Everyone simply knows him as Prince. As Vir.
Prince. A fucking title.
You could say that, Brynn’s words echo in my head. When I asked him if Vir was his common name. You could say that. A way around a lie. He confessed he was hiding something and I was too stupid—too stubborn—to press.
And all the stares. The mix of reverence and disgust. His reputation. Everybody knows him. Of course they do—he’s the fucking prince of Sanctuary.
“Thea!” Jasmeen exclaims, slapping her hands onto my stiff shoulders and giving me a desperate shake. “I beg you. Please say something.”
“Prince?” I somehow squeak.
“I’m so sorry, Thea! I thought you knew—why—why wouldn’t he tell you?”
There it is. Anger. It sparks and catches in an instant, my chest burning and my stomach lurching. Why didn’t he tell me? Why would he omit that?
A filthy fucking dimiblood. He’s the bastard son of the high king of Sanctuary.
It was an unconfirmed rumor. Most Sanctuarians don’t want to make a deal with me.
Because he’s the prince. It’s extremely taboo to just ask a fae if they’re a dimi.
Most wouldn’t dare. Yeah, they wouldn’t. Because he’s the fucking prince.
How was I so blind?
My hands shake with quiet rage as I fold the riddle and toss it aside on the bed. It takes an impressive amount of self-control not to rip it into shreds. Jasmeen releases me with a heavy sigh.
“I thought that’s why you agreed to travel to Royal City with him—because he can gain easier access to a passageway back to the mortal realm! Why did I never ask?” she asks, more to herself than me.
“I’m not angry with you.”
“Well, he’s going to be,” she mumbles. She chews on her fingernails, her worried eyes unfocused. “I can’t believe—I didn’t know you didn’t know, Thea.”
You put your prized trust in what exactly you fear.
Realization plows over me like a crushing wave, making my heated blood run cold. What exactly I fear is my own title. My stupid, unwanted, unfortunate title. I fear the day I must become a queen.
Are you angry at him for finding a way to lie to you? For keeping secrets? Or because you hold the same secret? the small voice inside my head chides. I want to scream. Truth is—I don’t know why I’m angry. And that makes me more angry.
“I could vomit,” I say to Jasmeen after an agonizing silence. She nods her head in feverish agreement.
“Likewise. Should we skip dinner altogether?” she asks miserably. It’s a rhetorical plea. She wishes to delay this inevitable confrontation for as long as possible. She does not want to bear witness to it.
And there it is. The sudden, all-consuming panic rises in my chest and I know the unavoidable looms. The bed feels more like a boat tipping in turbulent waters as the room tilts.
I slide from it onto the floor, place my head between my knees, and begin counting backward from one hundred.
My hands lock together at my shins, pulse crashing in my ears like thunder.
Without a word, Jasmeen sits beside me. Her soft, damp hair grazes the skin of my shoulder as she leans into me.
She gently pries one of my hands from its death grip and wraps it in both of hers.
Her warmth comforts me. An anchor in a raging storm.
I’m unsure how long we stay like this, but I finally lift my head, leaning back against the edge of the mattress to stretch out my sore neck.
I squeeze her fingers. She shifts to take in my face.
“Were you… were you starting to… to feel something for him?” Jasmeen asks. “Is that what upsets you?”
I scoff. I don’t have a clue what I feel. With our flirting and games and growing comfort and trust. But I knew there were secrets. Only, I didn’t expect his to be as massive as mine.
Great. Guilt creeps in, too.
“I’m not sure. I thought I was so thorough about reading between the lines. I thought I was being cautious about where I put my trust. I obviously don’t know him at all. I knew there were secrets but this—”
“It’s a big fucking secret,” Jasmeen whispers. “And one that everyone knows. He had to have known you would find out eventually.”
I let out a shaky sigh.
“Your anger is valid,” she says, giving the back of my hand a gentle pat.
Secrets at a minimum from here on out, Brynn had said.
A minimum. Perhaps he did not think this was a big deal.
His paranoia at me holding secrets now seems absurd.
Unless he suspects whatever secrets I keep are as sizable…
I suppose he’s not wrong. My duplicitous head and heart throb in unison.
This stirs up too many confusing emotions.
My sudden need to shout at him outweighs all other thoughts.
Jasmeen starts when I jump up. She stares at me, eyes wide, mouth gaping.
“We’re going to dinner,” I say, offering her my hand again and yanking her to her feet.
“Oh no,” Jasmeen says apprehensively. “You have a violent look in your eyes, Thea.”
“I only want to chat with him.”
After taking another few minutes to splash my face with cold water in an attempt to gather my wits, Jasmeen and I make our way downstairs to the tavern.
A lutist and singer duo have begun their set on the stage, but I do not hear it as anything other than obnoxious racket.
I focus on keeping my breathing steady as I shove down the raw, red rage that threatens to muddle all thought.
It does not take long to spot Brynn and Glo in the crowd.
They stand at a high top along the outer edge of the dance floor with drinks in hand.
Empty glasses litter their table. As we approach, they double over with laughter.
Glo thumps Brynn’s back and cackles like he’s just landed a hilarious joke.
Glo sees us first. She straightens, releasing a low whistle.
Jasmeen reddens, but remains a rigid stone at my side, anticipating my inevitable eruption.
Brynn turns to us, a broad smile plastered to his face.
It slips as his heavy-lidded eyes find my untamed hair and exposed shoulders.
They linger far too long on my bare collarbone before meeting my burning gaze.
His burns too—in a far different sense of the word.
He runs his hand through his hair, swallowing hard.
“Fuck. You look—” he starts, his words slurring.
“Are you—are you drunk?” I ask, a cutting, iron edge to my voice. Jasmeen flinches, a soft oh no escaping her lips. Glo tilts her head, accurately perceiving tension. She squints, as though contemplating whether it’s worth intervening just yet.
“We’ve had a few drinks,” Brynn mutters.
Showing off, he downs the one in his hand, slamming the empty glass onto the table and swaying on the spot.
Glo clears her throat to grab his attention.
It doesn’t work. His golden eyes are too busy feasting on me.
His intensity is almost enough to distract me until—
“Well, you took a while,” Glo diverts, drawing my focus. “What were you two doing in there anyway?”
It’s obvious—she seeks to steer the conversation elsewhere. She hastily composes herself, but I catch the unmistakable flicker of jealousy that colors her face. This fleeting weakness shatters something within me.
“Gossiping. Lying, perhaps,” I snap, unable to check my anger even though it’s not meant for her. “You know, what us mortals do.”
“Thea, would you like to go get a drink now? Maybe something to eat? Some fresh air?” Jasmeen begs in a shrill voice unlike her own, grabbing my arm in a desperate bid to pull me away.
“Ooh, is that an invitation? Because it certainly feels like a demand,” I hiss, turning on Jasmeen.
She recoils as though I’ve bitten her. I’m not sure how my resolve evaporated so quickly at the sight of an inebriated Brynn, but all I want is to retrieve my dagger.
It may not slit his throat, but I could still bludgeon him with its hilt.
“I’m sensing something is off here,” Glo says, her hands raising in a slow surrender. Her apricot skin pales in the tavern light. “Would you like to talk about it, Thea?”
“Actually yes, I very much would,” I say. Jasmeen releases my arm, distancing herself from me. In case I explode, I guess. She winces as I turn to face Brynn. “Do you want to chat, Vir? In private?”
“Oh, fuck yes I do,” he slurs, blissfully oblivious. Glo glances between us all—measuring Jasmeen’s guilt, my fury, Brynn’s ignorance. Alarmed apprehension blooms on her face. She knows I know. Glo plants a protective hand on Brynn’s shoulder. Her nails dig in.
“Are you sure that’s the best idea right now, Vir?” she asks.
“He doesn’t have a say in it,” I snarl, grabbing Brynn by the arm and pulling him toward the door at once.
He wobbles, but I manage to navigate us through the crowd.
I look over my shoulder one last time to see Jasmeen anxiously watching Glo, who clearly battles the urge to follow us, before I yank Brynn over the inn’s threshold.
The sound of the quiet outside deafens me.
My ears buzz as though my head is full of angry bees.