Neve’s distorted reflection in the circlet went rigid. “It was . . .” Her mouth worked like she might say more, but nothing came out. She tucked a stray lock of black hair behind her ear as she folded into the chair at her desk. “It was difficult.”
The chambers had a sitting room off to the side that Neve never used; Red pulled over one of the heavy, brocaded chairs to sit next to Neve’s desk instead. For a moment, they sat in silence, two sisters and the ghost of a mother. Neve looked at the carpet instead of Red, a slight indentation in her skin where the circlet had weighed heavy.
“I’m glad to be Queen.” She said it like a confession. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop feeling guilty for that.” Her spine straightened, eyes raising. “But you’re here now. I saved you. That makes it all worth it.”
It made Red’s skin feel too small, this declaration that she needed saving. She knows she needs me to disentangle you fully.
“How did you do it?” Kings, she could barely keep her face schooled to mere curiosity, could barely keep the accusing edge from her voice. Here was her sister, whom she loved down to her bones, but the air between them was thick with secrecy and things misunderstood. “How did you weaken the Wilderwood so I could . . .” She couldn’t finish it. Escape wouldn’t hold its shape on her tongue.
Neve’s dark eyes flickered up from her pale, knotted hands, a line between her brows. Like Kiri before, her gaze was searching. As if she was looking for something in Red, some abnormality hiding just out of sight.
The moment passed. Neve blinked, and the calculating light in her eyes went out, replaced instead by relief. “It doesn’t matter.” A smile, more brilliant for how pale and wan she looked otherwise. “You’re here now. Whatever else we have to do to make sure you’re safe, we’ll do it.”
Red shifted nervously.
Neve put a reassuring hand on her knee, mistaking the reason for her discomfort. “There’s no need for worry, Red. The Wolf can’t reach you here, and we’ll root out the rest—”
“I’m not staying.” It came out sharp, and she knew she should’ve swallowed it the moment it left her mouth. But there was so little truth between them, it was almost unbearable.
Maybe her own honesty could wrench some from her sister.
Neve’s brow knit, uncomprehending. “If you’d rather go to one of the other holdings, I can arrange that, too. I understand not wanting to be in the capital.”
“No.” Red winced. This could only sound graceless. “Neve, I . . . I’m going back to the Wilderwood.”
Disbelief fell like a shadow, dimming Neve’s eyes. “What?”
Red didn’t know where to go from there, how much to safely share, and she hated it. “I came back because I wanted to see you. Because . . . because I wanted to know what you were doing.” She didn’t say because she wanted to stop it, unsure if she could admit that or not, unsure what Neve might do. “But I want to go back. Eammon—”
“Eammon?”
“The Wolf. His name is Eammon. Gaya and Ciaran’s son.” A pause, a deep breath. “Neve, so much is different than—”
“Stop.” Quiet, but with enough gravitas behind it that Red’s teeth clicked shut. Neve’s hand was up in the air between them, a slight tremble in her fingers. She took a deep breath of her own, let it out with her eyes closed. “You’re on good terms, then. Good terms with the Wolf. Good terms with the Wilderwood.”
The cold in her voice sent heat to Red’s cheeks, an inverse reaction. She reeled truth back into her mouth; it was obvious Neve didn’t want to hear it right now. “You could say that,” she murmured, nervously tugging at the hem of her cloak.
The movement drew Neve’s eye. For the first time, her twin took stock of the cloak, mouth drawing tighter. “That isn’t the one you left with.”
The embroidery pressed against Red’s skin, grounding. “Not technically, no.”
Silence, silence, a well of it they couldn’t fill. Then Neve’s voice, tremulous: “What have you done, Red?”
She’d asked herself the question, more than once. She’d married the Wolf of the Wilderwood. It was a massive, frightening thing, and one she’d do again in a heartbeat.
“Nothing I didn’t want to,” she answered quietly.
Her sister’s hands knotted tighter, knuckles blanched white. Across the room, the ornate mirror shone them back at themselves. Golden and dark, reflections of each other.