The Scarlet Assassin

Chapter Fifty-Two

Sorin walked into my office, looking me over carefully. "You weren't there when I woke up," he said. His shoulders relaxed ever so slightly as if relieved he had found me.

"No," I said, voice hard. "I left."

"It's past noon, and I've been looking for you everywhere."

"Well, you found me." I drank heavily from my glass.

He studied me. "I need to talk to you."

I waved a hand at the seat in front of my desk. "By all means."

Sorin sank down slowly. "I just... I wanted to ask where exactly we are going. We leave tomorrow morning, and I have no clue where we're headed. I don't really have a preference. I... I just know that wherever we go, I'll be happy as long as I'm with you." I brought my glass to my lips, keeping my hand from shaking.

I didn't look at him as I said, "I don't think so." His brows furrowed.

"What? What do you mean?"

I inhaled and set my glass down. My eyes flicked to him, cold and cunning. "I mean, I'm not going with you."

Sorin was silent for a moment as this sunk in. He swallowed. "Okay, then we stay here. We can avoid the king. We can figure this out. We-"

"There is no 'we'," I said, coldly.

Sorin looked as if I'd just slapped him. "Vera, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that you are arrogant and ungrateful and I have no place for you here."

"Vera, this isn't funny."

"Am I laughing?" I traced my finger on the rim of my drink. "You're the king's most trusted lieutenant, Sorin. You were sent to kill me for God's sake. I had to put on an act to keep you in line."

He stared at me as if having one piece left of the puzzle and figuring out it doesn't fit. "I still don't follow. All of our moments..."

"Well, the sex was good. I wasn't fond of the mushy moments. Those were the hardest to fake, but," I shrugged and leaned back in my chair, "I guess I'm pretty fucking amazing if I got Orson's puppy dog to trust me."

"What..." his mouth closed and opened. "Those... weren't real. The nightmares, the teasing, the banter... that wasn't real?"

"I'm surprised you fell for it honestly."

"Why would you even do that?"

"Simple. I acted as a broken girl, threw in some sob stories, some shaking hands, a quavering voice, to make sure you pitied me or apparently, loved me enough not to kill me. And now that I'm back, the king knows you failed. You're a traitor, an outsider." I paused. "A fugitive." I expected Sorin to lash out and begin yelling. I wanted him to yell at me, to tell me I'm pathetic and a bitch and unworthy of anything, even life and love.

But his eyes, pained and confused, stated, "I don't believe you. Even you aren't good enough to fake everything—maybe in the beginning, but not now."

You know what you have to do.

"Then ask me, Sorin," I whispered. "Ask me the question." He hesitated, blinked twice, licked his lips, and asked softly,

"Do you love me?"

"No," I told him. "Love is for children, and I am not a twelve-year-old girl you can manipulate anymore." Leaning forward, I whispered, "It's your fault Ryn died. It was your fault I was in that hellhole." I laughed bitterly. "How could I possibly love you?"

"Why?" Sorin asked, voice strong but wavering.

"Because I hated you so deeply that I knew one day I'd get my vengeance on you. And look, now I finally have. You have nothing—not a title, not love, not a spot next to the king. All you have is your pathetic family that will probably die soon if Orson is smart."