I wake just before the sun comes up, despite sleeping for barely two hours. For once, I am glad that the night is almost over; it was a difficult one to endure.
I don't feel like wearing a dress today, so I put on Ethel's riding habit before leaving the room. The hallway is deserted, and through its many windows I can see the cerulean sky glowing as the sun begins to wake. This quiet peacefulness is something I've missed dearly from my nocturnal life before arriving at this castle. There's so much life during the day that sometimes I feel lost in it. I am at my truest in the silence of the night, when it's so silent that I can almost hear the beating of my own heart.
"Nyx," a quiet voice says.
I whirl around, surprised to see the Silver Prince standing several feet away. His evening guards are behind him; apparently, Ingram and the others haven't replaced them for the day yet. I was so lost in thought that I didn't hear any of them approach.
The bruise on Adrian's face has darkened to the color of a plum, and his bottom lip is still swollen. He stands stiffly, as though even breathing brings him pain. I wonder how vicious a beating Dustin delivered last night, before I tore his shadow apart. But, despite the pain he is doubtless in, Adrian is smiling.
How infuriating. It feels like he's gloating, prideful in the face of my defeat despite the fact that he is entirely unaware of it. I can hardly stand to look at him.
I curtsey. "Your Highness."
Instantly, the smile fades. "None of that, please, Nyx. I thought...well, I thought we were friends."
"Are we?" I never experienced such delusions.
Something flickers in Adrian's eyes, but I can't tell what he's thinking. "I apologize for yesterday morning. I wasn't feeling myself."
"It isn't yesterday morning that you need to apologize for." It's what transpired in the evening.
"For three days ago, then. Is that why you're upset with me?"
He is an anomaly: a clever fool. At least he still knows precious little about me, notwithstanding his unproven suspicions. "I'm not upset. I simply have nothing to say to you."
I turn away, but he strides forward and catches my wrist. When I face him again, there is desperate intensity in his eyes.
"Let go of me," I snap.
"Not until you talk to me."
I glance over his shoulder, at his bewildered guards. "Not here."
Wordlessly, he drags me past the guards. I have to trot to keep up with his long-legged strides. From this angle, I can't see much of his face, but there is fervency in his pace and in the way he squeezes my wrist far too tightly. When we reach his room, he pulls me inside and shuts the door.
"What do you want?" I demand, wrenching free from his grip.
"Lord Dustin died last night."
I remember what Dustin said pushed Adrian over the edge, what forced him to sign the contract. You. I still don't know what that means. "How unfortunate."
"You're hardly distraught."
"Neither are you."
He runs a hand through his colorless hair. "I have to ask if you had anything to do with it."
Anger sparks to life inside of me, anger that could burn him if I let it. He is audacious to accuse me with no proof. But then I think of the way our eyes met last night, as I stood over Dustin's dead body. There's no way he recognized me from that, right? He only saw me for a few seconds, and with all of me shrouded in black, he couldn't possibly have known who I was. Green eyes are common in Durnwall; seeing mine alone is not enough for him to identify me.
"How dare you?" I snap. "You think I would do anything to bring about the end of a man's life? First you accuse me of keeping secrets, and now you suggest that I had a hand in Lord Dustin's death."
Adrian squints at me, oddly dark brows lowered over fervent eyes. "I don't believe you would become so angry if you weren't involved."
"Why are you so insistent?"
He grabs my upper arms with firm hands, his fingers pressing against my flesh. "I need the truth, Nyx. The full truth."
Even for a prince, he has some nerve. I shove him away. "Here's the truth: I had nothing to do with it. In fact, I wish I had never met him."
Adrian bites his lip, then winces. "He was interested in you."
"I am well aware."
"Did you share the sentiment?"
By the gods. "Of course not."
He hesitates. "From what I gather, there was something between you two."
I don't think. Almost instinctively, my hand shoots up and I slap him across the face with what I have to admit is excessive force. Adrian recoils, pressing a palm to his cheek. He gazes at me with thinly veiled irritation.
"There are better ways to express your anger," he says. There is something ironic about someone like him admonishing me for my impulsiveness.
"You deserve it," I snap. "I know how you treat those who care about youâI spoke to Cordelia the night you told her to leave."
He blinks, startled. "I told her long ago that she cannot expect me to reciprocate any romantic feelings."
"You had to know she loved you."
"She promised me she didn't."
It takes all of my self control to refrain from slapping him again. "But you knew, didn't you?"
Adrian's shoulders are slightly hunched, as though this will protect him from my rage. It's satisfying to see that I have managed to intimidate him. "Deep down...perhaps. Yet I did make sure she was aware of my own feelingsâor lack thereof. Why does this concern you?"
He is absolutely maddening. "What makes you think you can use people like that?"
"I don't mean to," he says brusquely, his glare deepening. "I swear, I never meant to hurt anyone."
Pain. That's what I felt yesterday, when he ignored my request to see him. I wish it wasn't so, but I can't continue to deny it. Yet it makes no senseâI despise this man. Why should it hurt me to be refused by him?
"It seems like you hurt a lot of people." I think of all the people in Itoria who are suffering, who Adrian could easily help but chooses not to. But reminding myself of this does nothing to make me angrier; not even when I think of Enya and Romy and Morwen, and all the hardships they must face on a daily basis. My anger stems only from Adrian turning me away yesterday, which makes my toes curl with frustration.
"So do you," he returns, with as casual an air as if we were merely discussing last night's dinner.
I bristle instinctively. "What do you mean?" He must be accusing me of killing Dustinâagain. The fact that he would be correct doesn't lessen my irritation whatsoever. In fact, the accuracy of Adrian's suspicions angers me far more than anything else. I am careful enough that no one should be able to predict my next moveâleast of all the callow Silver Prince.
"Have you ever considered that it might be time for you to stop pushing people away?" he asks.
That catches me off-guard, which is a worrisome state to be inâespecially when I am alone with this man. My tongue feels leaden, and even if I could think of something to say, I am sure that I would not be able to speak.
When I don't respond, Adrian continues. "You are reticent to share anything with me, which I understand. You have made your disdain for me abundantly clear. I know you feel that I do nothing for my people, even though there is very little that someone in my position can do. I am a prince, yes, but I only possess the power that my father affords me."
I force myself to speak. "There is much that you are unwilling to tell me. This goes both ways."
Adrian smirks. "Do you truly believe that I don't notice how you refuse to get close to anyone? It seems that Ethel is the only person in this castle to whom you speak, and you do so reluctantly."
He is far more observant than I have given him credit for. "She's my aunt."
"Yesâof course." The skepticism in his voice makes me doubly irritated, and the sensation only increases when he adds, curiously, "Why did you come to see me yesterday?"
It was because I had thought that we were friends. A foolish notion, yes, but I have since learned my lesson. A rather painful lesson that I wish to put behind me. "No reason," I say. "I just wanted to see you."
"I wasn't myself; that's all."
Rather than belabor this conversation, I decide not to let my unwarranted suffering continue. "I have to go."
"Wait," he says.
When I look into his face, I see something strange there. Vulnerability. It's etched into his slightly parted lips and his rumpled brow. Unintentionally, I take careful note of his full mouth and rouged cheeks. He is agonizingly beautiful, and his wild nature only increases the torment that merely looking upon him causes me. I loathe him for having this effect on me, but I detest myself more for succumbing to it.
Adrian reaches out and places his hands on my cheeks, holding my face with unusual tenderness. The wave threatening to drown me pauses for a moment, suspended in midair by Adrian's gentle touch. My stomach, however, feels as though it will drop straight through the floor, and my heart palpitates in an almost painful manner. I am terrified; it feels as though I have lost all control of myself. This is even worse than wearing the Immaterial Ring, when I know that I can remove the horrid thing at any time and recover myself after a while. But this feeling...this isn't something I think I can recover from.
"I hate you," I tell him. My voice trembles.
"I know." He leans forward and presses his impossibly soft lips against mine. I stand stock-still, uselessly, hardly knowing what to do. It's as though the whole world is being yanked out from under me like a slippery carpet. It's as though Adrian has taken my heart in his hands and is holding it hostage.
Is that such a bad thing?
He pulls away after too short a time. I am unsteady on my feet, weak-kneed from whatever wicked magic he has cast over me.
"I had to do that, just once," he murmurs. Then he waves his hand imperiously, dismissing me. "Go. Despise me as you wish, if it so pleases you. I will question you no more, Lady Nyx."
I can hardly breathe. I stumble out of his room, my mind reeling.
He kissed me. He said that he had to kiss me. And I liked it.
NoâI can't allow myself to become distracted. I hurry to the duchess's room, heart never slowing, but freeze when I see that Grey is standing by the large window, her back towards the door. She turns around when she hears me enter.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, drawing my knife. I don't expect her to attack me, but I won't be caught unaware.
Her silvery-gray hair shines like mother-of-pearl in the burgeoning sunlight. "Why haven't you taken his shadow yet?"
"I still have time."
"No, Nyx. I just spied on the king, and he's clearly on his deathbed."
I wonder how she managed that without an object like the Immaterial Ring. But, then again, I can't be sure that she doesn't possess something similar.
"We have less time than we anticipated," she continues.
For some reason, my thoughts turn to Adrian. How upset will he be? How much will this affect him?
"You have to take the prince's shadow before the king dies. He will be guarded with much more ferocity once the crown is his."
I don't tell her that I can get into any room, no matter how heavily guarded. "I know."
Grey narrows her eyes. "Listen to me, Nyx. Victor was going to come here himself, and you might not have escaped that encounter with your life."
"He needs me."
Her voice turns bitter. "Everyone is dispensable."
"Including you?"
She smiles thinly. "You're underestimating him. He thinks you know what the prince's greatest fear is already. I think so, too."
"I'm not sure yet," I lie. The truth is, I have no idea anymore.
Grey takes several steps towards me. The look on her face is so intense that it's a little difficult to stand my ground. "You don't understand just how dangerous Victor is. He's the Lord of the Underworld, Nyx."
"I know." When I'm with him, I feel strangely exposed, as though he can see through every inch of me. But now that there's some distance between us, I'm sure that I can handle whatever sort of threat he poses to me. It would be foolish for me to understate his abilities, but he would be equally foolish to understate mine. I can figure out how to keep Blythe and Morwen safe if I need to. And if I need more time, I'll take it. Victor will just have to wait. Or, if he really doesn't trust me, he can send someone to take my place.
I don't think he will, though. I am not dispensable.
"He could ruin you," she tells me.
He already has. Simply by sending me here, by allowing me to interact so closely with the Silver Prince, I think he has ruined me. I am still breathless from that kiss, as though Adrian stole the very air from my lungs the same way I almost stole his shadow. Of one thing I am certain: that I will never be the same again.
"Why did you come instead of Victor?" I ask.
Grey's jaw tightens. "In such a short time, you've become a favorite of his. That must mean you're worth something."
She's contradicting herself. "I thought I was replaceable. Tell me why you really came."
She lets out a sharp, exasperated sigh. "Fine. I want to know if you found out his secret. If there's anything you know that we can use against the Bancroft House, you need to tell me."
I have little interest in protecting the prince, but whatever leverage I have will not easily be pried from me. His status as a bastardâand, more damning, as the son of a whoreâis detrimental to his claim to the throne. If anyone is going to use that against him, it will be me. "There's nothing," I say.
"Liar."
I am evenly matched; it seems that she can detect lies as easily as I. "Why do you expect me to tell you anything?"
Grey's hands curl into white-knuckled fists. "I saved your skin by convincing Victor to allow me to come here in his stead. What is that worth to you?"
"I'm not afraid of Victor," I return. "You should have stuck to his original plan. If he wishes to intimidate me, he'll have to come here himself. A mere foot soldier won't gain any information from me."
The way she looks at me, with her head slightly tilted and her eyes narrowed, displays her ferocity. If we were to fight, I think she might be difficult to defeat. It's eerie, the way she can see through me just like Adrian can. To most people I meet, I am a blank slate, the sort of person that can slip through the background unnoticed. Nothing about me is obvious from the outside; I even keep my true feelings hidden behind a mask of neutrality.
Yet somehow the prince has dragged honesty from me. He even managed to goad me into striking him, an unmistakable display of true anger and hatred. Usually, I am able to keep every aspect of myself under my own strict control. So why are all my typical rules tossed into the wind every time I see him?
Grey continues to scrutinize me. "You know better than to grow close to your targets, I hope?"
"Of course," I say bitingly. "I've done this more times than I can count, you know."
"Yet you remain, disappointingly, without results. I wonder what's holding you back."
"Time. If you and Victor would just get off my back, I would be able to catch my breath and figure out what to do next."
Shaking her head, Grey says, "Victor was wrong to offer to reward you with a position among his lieutenants. You're far too naïve."
It's ridiculous to call me naïve, after all I've been through. "How so?"
"Look at how distracted you are. I know he told you to seduce the prince, but you weren't supposed to allow him to seduce you in return."
Suddenly, the room feels much too hot. I want to throw open the windows and let in the fresh morning air. Maybe it could help me clear my head and force some sense into my brain. I wish Grey hadn't been able to pick up on my confusion over Adrian, but she has. There's no sense in denying it; I can't even fool myself. The only option left is to bury those feelings so that they can't interfere with my current task.
"I know what I'm doing," I mutter.
"I hope so." She opens the window and climbs onto the ledge. "Heed my warning, Nyx. Fulfill your deal with Victor, and don't let anyone get in the way. You don't want to suffer the consequences of failure." In the next moment, she's gone.
For the rest of the day, I am fraught with panic. I pace the room, attempt to sleep some more, and tear frivolous trimmings from my secondhand gowns. My mind feels poisoned by the prince; he refuses to depart from my thoughts, no matter how hard I try to banish him.
To make matters worse, Adrian sits across from me at supper. I don't meet his eyes. Being in such close proximity to him makes me more nervous than I'd like to admit. He is the one who should be tense in my company but, as usual, he seems completely at ease. I hate how out-of-control he makes me feel, how I can't even make my own emotions obey me with him near.
The meal is a solemn affair. Everyone is quiet and tense after Dustin's mysterious death. I catch whispers from those who ruminate about how he died. Rumors of a heart attack are floating around, but his pricked finger lends doubt to this theory. Was he poisoned? No one can tell, not from the little information they gathered.
Ethel doesn't say a word.
Adrian passes me in the hall as she and I are returning to our chambers. Without a word, he slips a paper into my hand and continues on his way. I read the note the moment I'm alone in my room.
Meet me at the stables tomorrow morning. I owe you a ride. Strike me again, if passion so consumes you once more. It matters not to me, so long as I can see you.
â Adrian