He pulls me tighter to him, securing my arms to my sides so I can’t flail. His free hand reaches down and yanks up the hem of my dress. Panic spikes my system, and I go rigid with fear. As his hand roams the length of my leg, the feel of his callused palm against my skin fills me with alarm.
This isn’t happening. No, no, no. “Stop!”
His hand pauses along my thigh—and grasps the dagger.
He jerks it from the leather sheath and holds it before me. “What did you think you would do with this?” He waves the blade back and forth. “Especially if your foe takes it from you.”
I’m mute as I stare at my own dagger aimed at me. I attempt shaking my head in response, but my movements are jerky. I tremble, unable to get to my voice.
He groans and pushes me away. I spin around and watch him examine the dagger. Frightened, I wrap my arms around my body. “How did you know?”
“That is not the right question, princess.” His eyes look up from the dagger and pin me in place. “The correct question is, how did you expect to use this with damaged hands?”
My forehead creases. “I don’t understand.” I nervously glance around at the trees. “The Eyes.” He’s exposed me. Any moment the Force will be here to arrest me. I spin in circles, searching for the opening along the wall. Where is it? I turn back toward Devlan and glare.
He tosses the dagger at me and I barely catch it. “There are no cams here. You can stop fretting.” He nods to me. “Grip the hilt,” he instructs. “Tight as you can, as if you were facing an opponent.”
Relief that I won’t be hauled off to the Oubliette spreads through me, and I breathe in the pine-scented air, regaining my wits. I try to grab the hilt as instructed, but the gauze and the ache from my sore palms prevent me from getting a good hold. “What the hell is your point, Devlan? What does this have to do with rid
ing?” Angry tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back.
He takes a step toward me, and his voice softens. “A few more days of using the reins as per the prince’s teaching methods, and your hands will be a bloody mess.” He furrows his brow. “How will you then manage to fight off the Force when you can’t grasp your weapon?”
Heat splashes my cheeks. I stare up into his blue eyes, so close now. “Why don’t you just hand me over to them now and be done with it?” I ask. “Or better yet, take me out yourself.”
“You really aren’t as bright as you seem sometimes, Zara.”
“Well you…” I trail off, forgetting the words of my rant. “You called me Zara.”
He cocks his head. “You ordered me to do as such.” “But you never listen to me.”
“Ha,” he mock-laughs. His features brighten with a twist upward of his lips. “Touché.”
A tremor works its way down my legs, and I can no longer think with so much adrenaline coursing through my body. I walk over to a tree and lean against it for support.
Devlan walks toward me slowly, his eyes trailing over me. “Yesterday,” he says, running his hand through his hair. “I knew yesterday when I sat you on the table.” He levels a look at me. “Bottoms are not supposed to make a clinking noise.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, remembering his hard eyes on me, his probing stare in the tent. At least he didn’t expose me then. Why didn’t he? Why did he wait till we were away from the Eyes? “You don’t understand. I need to have it with me.” I open my eyes and stare into his. “It was my father’s.”
Devlan takes three long strides until his tall form towers above me, barely inches between us. His eyes widen and he tips his head forward, looking at me through his dark bangs. “Your father’s.”
I nod once. He doesn’t shy away at the mention of a Taken, so I continue. “Yes. It’s all I have left of him. Before he died, he gave it to me. He said it would protect me.”
His eyes travel down my body to the dagger in my hand. He shakes his head. “Of course,” he says under his breath. “May I?”
A hollow laugh escapes me. “You’re asking now to take it?” He doesn’t answer. His face is set serious. I loose a heavy breath and hand it to him.
Backing up a few steps, he flips the dagger and grabs the hilt out of the air, then runs his thumb along my father’s engraved initials. “It’s a fine weapon.” He studies the blade and the small crest of the eagle and sword along the side. “And he was right to give it to you.”
I drop my gaze to the ground. “I don’t even know how to use it.”
“Sometimes,” he says, moving closer and handing it back to me, “something’s symbolism is more important than its use.” I want him to explain his theory, but before I get the words to leave my mouth, he continues. “When are you planning to make your great escape?”
I shrug my shoulders, ashamed. “I don’t know.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Things are complicated now.” I don’t know why I’m admitting this to him other than that it feels right to reveal some of the secrets weighing on my soul. My life is in his hands. He can turn me over to Sebastian, King Hart, the Force, and all will end badly for me. At least I can state my case here and now.
“Sebastian,” he says simply. His lips twist into a knowing grin. “He does care for you.”
I recoil at his bluntness. “He thinks he does.” The rough bark of the tree scratches at my bruised backside. I push away and sit in the pine straw instead. “That sounds terrible to say, but he doesn’t know me.”