Sweet Innocence and Gentle Sin || 𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐑

Chapter 40: Faltering Belief

But in the end, if I bend under this weight that they gave me, Then this heart would break and fall as twice as far.

~)(~

I fantasized about killing Tamlin, who sat across from me with a pale, frightened expression as I zoned out, imagining how good it would feel to rip out his heart. Rhysand pretended not to notice, trying to distract Tamlin with idle chit-chat as he stirred his teacup, and a sharp scraping sound broke my focus.

"Could you not?" I asked, glancing at his metal spoon poised against the rim of his cup.

Rhys smiled, showing his sharp canines, and set his cup down with a few taps of his spoon. "Could you?"

I tried challenging him but relented after he fluttered his eyelashes like a child. Wishing I could suffocate in the cushions, I sighed and leaned back in the armchair. I hated that I agreed to this. I wasn't entirely alone in my anguish, though, as Rhysand had invited his younger sister to join us, and she looked just as unhappy as me. To avoid looking at anyone, she had balanced her folded parasol and was twirling the curved handle, stopping when Rhysand noticed.

Lavinia looked painfully bored as she leaned back in her chair, puffed sleeves cradling her head. I tried not to laugh when I caught her rolling her eyes at Tamlin's comment about the hospitality. Her black hair stood out against her white lace dress, the embroidered lilac corset flattering her violet eyes, which narrowed when Tamlin tried to compliment her.

"I had hoped to receive a... warmer welcome," Tamlin said, his voice weak.

I set my cup down and leaned back in my chair. "Are the accommodations not up to par? Apologies, but we find enslaved people to be a slight mood-killer."

Rhysand cleared his throat and sent me a warning glare. "Rowena has a... unique taste in humor."

Tamlin pressed his lips into a thin line and glanced at me—I batted my eyelashes. He scoffed. "Well, I'm sure you're doing the best you can. It was probably difficult given the state of things."

"And what is the state of things, exactly?" I asked, propping my chin on the table. I tapped my cheek and clicked my tongue. "After all, I have been in hiding for a decade. Do enlighten me."

Tamlin set down his shaking cup and refilled it with steaming tea. "Rhysand and I agree that this war must end before we destroy ourselves. Do you not agree?"

"Wholeheartedly. I just have one small, trivial question." I rapped my nails on the tablecloth, catching when his gaze widened at the scars barely hidden by my blue lace gloves. "Which side are you really on?"

"Rowena, please," Rhys said in a huff.

"I've never been a Loyalist—never have or will be," Tamlin answered, ignoring Rhysand.

"Yet you were complacent."

He sighed and dropped a square of sugar into his cup, his small spoon scraping the sides as he stirred. "I was trapped. Do you think my brothers would hesitate to kill me? It would just free up space in their struggle for inheritance."

I watched him tap his spoon on the edge of the cup before he set it down, my eye twitching. "You stood there and did nothing while they—"

"Enough," Rhys hit his fist on the table, making the porcelain rattle. "Please, can we attempt to avoid a fight?"

I huffed a breath and crossed my arms as I leaned back again. "Fine—fine."

Rhys sighed and rubbed his temple as he leaned against the table. "Good. Now, the past is in the past. We were practically children still, and none of us had seen what we now have."