I don’t have time to question her about it though. Other questions are too precious to be wasted by another moment of silence.
“What do you want more than anything in the world?” The fire crackles once my deep voice has broken the void of silence between us. The tension is still there, but it can’t exist forever. I won’t let it.
Aria’s hazel eyes lift, and she peeks at me through her dark lashes, not bothering to move from lying on her elbows. She glances back at the drawing and visibly swallows before shrugging slightly and looking back up at me as if she doesn’t have to answer.
At this point, she doesn’t. I don’t care what she does or how she treats me with the door closed, so long as she doesn’t run or hurt herself.
“I want my family to be untouchable,” I confess to her.
“That’s quite an ambition,” she answers, crossing her ankles and still staring at the drawing pad in front of her. She’s still cold.
“Isn’t that what you want, too?” I ask her. “That would seem to be especially desirable given the current environment.” I can’t keep the smug tone from my voice to cover up the pain from her reaction. If she would talk to me, she’d see. She has to see that there’s only one way for this to end. And once it’s over, it will all be better. I’ll make it better for her.
“I want everyone to fuck off and leave me alone,” she answers with a bite that tips the corner of my lips up into a half smile. I love the fight in her. She’ll live, she’ll survive. A girl like her knows how to survive if nothing else.
“Anger is something I didn’t expect. And someone like you shouldn’t be left alone,” I tell her.
“I don’t want to cry today. So, I’ll settle for anger.” Her answer comes with muted irritation. She throws down the stick of charcoal onto the paper and then meets my gaze to ask, “Why shouldn’t I be alone?”
“It’s one thing to say you want to be alone. It’s another to truly be it. You pretend like you don’t exist in the same world as I do. Locking yourself away and acting like that’s what you want. But you belong here. You were born to this life. You need to accept that. And loneliness in this world leaves you vulnerable and that’s a life neither of us can afford.”
“I was alone in the cell,” she says solemnly. I don’t think she slept at all last night; I know I didn’t. “I survived.”
A melancholy huff leaves me. “You weren’t alone. The first night you slept, I’d drugged your dinner to make sure you would. So, I could tend to your wounds and the cuts on your wrists.”
“You did?” Her eyes are filled with shock. “Why?”
“You were mine to take care of.” My shoulders stiffen, as does my gaze and she drops hers, falling back to the smudges of charcoal. “I knew you would live. And you would break quickly. Everything needed to happen quickly.”
“Why?” she asks me, and I don’t know how she can’t know at this point.
“I’d intended to show how willing you were to be mine to everyone who was watching. So, there would be no question where you stood in the war.”
Her eyes close and she chews the inside of her cheek at my admission, trying to keep her emotions in check. I know the truth of the situation is raw for her. An open wound. But she needs to see it all. She has to accept everything for what it is.
“Instead, there’s no question where I stand when it comes to you. I never liked Stephan. Once a traitor, always a traitor. But giving his death to you, allowing you to have vengeance? It spoke more words than I realized it would.”
Her face scrunches with the painful memory and then she hangs her head, avoiding my gaze and rubbing her cheek against her shoulder. She pushes the hair out of her face and when she speaks, she doesn’t look up.
“But you’re still going to…” She doesn’t bother finishing her question. I know she already knows. She’ll come to accept it.
“Your father doesn’t deserve what he has. He’s not half the man Romano is. And Romano is a pathetic excuse for his title. They’ll both die. Along with everyone who fights for them.”
“Please. Not everyone. I’ll do anything.” Her words are spoken with conviction and she lifts her hazels up to meet my dark gaze. “You want me to kneel at your feet? I’ll kneel.”
She still doesn’t get it. And my heart aches for hers.
“What if I wanted you to stand at my side?” I ask her, my heart racing in my chest. It’s a risk to give her more. Every time I do, she fails to cope with it. But I need her to know what I really want from her. What I desire more than anything.