I was starting to think this was the mask he wore—cold and uncaring, devoid of emotions. Underneath his sarcasm, under the sensual smile, was a well of buried pain.
Nama’s smile looked twisted and strained at his comments. “I don’t believe that for a moment. We’re fated to marry. You can pretend to deny it all you want, but I’ve foreseen it.” Only now did she shoot me a withering look to acknowledge my presence. “And if you’re not going to look into the truth about this one, then I will. She looks…fidgety. Anxious. Mortal.”
My stomach clenched. What if she started asking around about me in Osborne?
I couldn’t worry about that now while Nama was scrutinizing me for signs of anxiety, so I tried to summon my dark side—which, as it turned out, involved finishing the cocktail fast.
I closed my eyes as I drank it down.
I’m not Rowan. I am Mortana, succubus, seductress, devourer of souls. I will eat the weak for breakfast.
When I’d finished the drink, I had a nice little buzz. Despite my new anxieties, I had to keep up the seductive charade while I was here in front of the demon crowd. With a little smile on my face, I started walking toward the king, crossing alongside the pool. I imagined the trickles of water running down my body as I walked, my eyes locked on him. The warm lights of the room cast a flattering light over his masculine features and sharp jaw.
He slid me a curious look as I approached, and I could see Lydia tensing, her eyes going dark.
I wanted him alone. If I were going to learn his weakness, it would have to be away from the others.
When I was standing next to him, I leaned in to whisper, “There’s only one thing you could do to turn my attention from Orion to you.”
Then, with that catlike walk. I headed onto the balcony. Out there, the briny sea air rushed over me, and I stared out at the sparkling sea. I’d feel fairly stupid if I did all that and the king failed to join me, but I supposed I had to stand there with the confidence of my shadow-self.
And when I turned to look back, I found that the king was stalking outside to join me, a cocktail in hand. The salty air toyed with his blond hair. “As always,” he said quietly, “you intrigue me, Mortana.”
I leaned back with my elbows over the railing and smiled at him. I was tempted to look inside to see what Orion was doing, but that wasn’t my job here. Jealousy was a game I was playing with the king; it wasn’t for me to indulge in.
I sipped my drink. “You know, this city is even more beautiful than I remember. They say a king is tied to his land, so I’m sure you’ve only enhanced its appeal.”
“I think the City of Thorns has been missing its last Lilu. We can’t be whole without your kind. We’re a city of seven wards, seven gods. We made a promise to the mortals, and you are the single living exception.” He raised his glass. “Exactly how did you extract such a deal from my father?”
I shrugged and let the strap of my gown fall just a little. “I made him happy. You know, I always thought I should be queen.”
“So did I.” There was something fierce in his voice, a desperate edge to it. “Maybe I still do.”
“Well, it’s not too late.” I sipped my drink. “But if our relationship is going to progress, I need to know the real you.”
He put his drink down on the railing, then moved closer and planted his hands on either side of me. The wind whipped at his pale hair. “In what way do you want to know me?”
I reached out to stroke his jawline. “The thing is, Your Majesty, everyone has a weakness. Even a king like you.”
“I’m not sure that’s actually the case, Mortana.”
“Everyone,” I repeated. “If we’re going to be equals, then I need to know what makes you vulnerable. If you only know someone’s strong side, you don’t really know them at all.”
“And what makes you vulnerable, Duchess? Is there anything that you fear?”
Dammit. A deflection. It’s like he’d been studying with Dr. Omer.
Maybe I could answer. What made my shadow-self feel vulnerable? I closed my eyes, trying to tune in to what Mortana would feel. If I were answering the question for myself, there’d be a wide array of fears to choose from, spanning the gamut of likely to nearly impossible: fire, dying alone, childbirth, imprisonment in North Korea, choking on a stray zipper that got into my cereal, bug infestations, making selfish choices, getting trampled by a moose…the list was pretty much endless. But Mortana? She was different. She was a survivor. She didn’t agonize about being selfish or flawed—she just survived.