A Girl in Black and White (Alyria 2)

His eyes hardened, and my breaths shallowed at the reaction I saw up close.

“Maybe I merely want to see what all the women at court boast about in those gossip rags.”

He licked his lips thoughtfully before saying, “That blade you got tucked in your sandal? It would end up in my back when I least expected it . . . Princess,” he shook his head, running a thumb across my lip, “I don’t fucking trust you.” He said it like he was almost proud; interested and amused for sure.

A shiver went through me at that use of my nickname. “It’s Girl in Black now.”

Some amusement crossed his face. “Nah. You’ll always be Princess to me.” But then the soft stroke of his thumb changed and he pressed down on my bottom lip. “But Princess or not . . . burn down another one of my ships, and I promise you won’t like the outcome.”

I watched his back as he walked away, as though he already forgot about me. As if he was a prince and I a mere commoner.

I never expected it to go this way. Though, I’d neve

r been able to imagine exactly how it would. Would he go on as before, force me on another goose chase? Would he apologize for my death? Show remorse? Those were the possibilities that had always filled my mind. But threatening me and then walking away from me? It had never made the list. I never thought I’d see Weston’s back as he left me to my own devices, and for some reason, the feeling put weight on my chest.

I should have been relieved. Thankful that he didn’t have any nefarious plans for me.

But somehow it felt as if this wasn’t the closure I wanted. Needed.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, uncertainty pressing down on me. And when I felt short of breath, I tossed the covers to the side and paced back and forth in front of my window.

I grabbed the parchment on my desk, wet my quill, and added for the very last time an item to my ‘Reasons I Hate Weston’ list.

It was number seventy-four.

“Well, make it quick,” Magdalena said. “I need to go to Mother’s beforehand to get some coin for the festival today.”

Agnes eyed the witch from her spot at the table, having just said she needed a word with us. “No one is leaving this room until I get answers from every one of you of what your choices are for All Sister’s Day. We’ll start with you, Magdalena.”

The girl in question pursed her lips, but then one of the doormen walked through the room from the kitchens to the foyer. Magdalena’s eyes followed him, a smile overtaking her face. The unimpressionable blond close to my age smiled back, in an exchange that only two people who have slept with each other would do.

Sinsara’s eyes narrowed on the scene and then widened with understanding as the doorman left the room. She shot Magdalena a look. “You whore!” She looked to Agnes in outrage. “She’s bloody been bedding him too. I’ve probably got the Pox!”

The table erupted into laughter.

“This isn’t amusing at all! Sarai! You better fix this,” Sin cried before rushing out of the room. Sarai was the healer and usually sympathetic, but she didn’t look so concerned this time while barely glancing up from her gossip rag and putting another grape in her mouth.

Agnes closed her eyes for a moment, frustration lacing her voice. “She can be looked over after we’re done here.”

Carmella’s gaze shot to Agnes. “Are you that unfeeling? She could have worse than the Pox knowing who Magdalena sleeps with. She could die!” Carmella jumped from her chair and pulled her sister from the room.

Juli sighed. “Really, Magdalena. See the trouble you cause?”

“Me! I didn’t force her to sleep with the doorman. She thinks she’s a queen anyway; what’s she doing with the help?”

“Maybe she loves him! And you’re just tupping him like a whore!”

“You know what, Juli? I’m sick of your ‘love, love, love’ crap. I’ll tup who I want. In fact, I think I’ll go find Alis right now!” Magdalena threw her napkin down before leaving the room.

“Oh, no you don’t, you witch!” Juli shouted, chasing her out.

Farah, Marlena, and I looked to Agnes who had her hands on her temples. There was a moment of silence before she spoke. “Don’t think you three will tell me what you’ve planned for All Sister’s Day?”

We all shook our heads.

“Right,” she muttered before grabbing the pitcher of wine and leaving the room.

Banners hung from one building to the next. Women waved towels from high windows. The clop of horses’ hooves down Northie stone streets and city folks’ cheers filled the morning air.