“I know.” He hadn’t specifically noticed, but it felt like the right thing to remind her; that he had been in a position to know, at least. Several positions. “And is that supposed to be self-deprecation? Or humility?”
“Neither. Beauty is nothing.” She waved it away and stole towards him, settling herself on the edge of his bed. “Everyone’s perception is flawed. They have standards drilled into them by cultural propaganda. Nothing anyone sees is real; only how they perceive it.”
How very topical, Tristan thought grimly. Which might have been intentional on her part, though at the moment he didn’t care to dwell on which of his thoughts she was or wasn’t using.
“What is it?” he asked her. “Clearly something’s bothering you.”
“I’ve just discovered something. I think.” She toyed with her fingers, tapping them mindlessly in her lap. “I’m not sure yet whether it will be in your best interest to tell you.”
“In my best interest?”
“Well, you’re right, it wouldn’t be in yours. You wouldn’t take it well at all.” She glanced at him, eyes narrowing. “No, I can’t tell you,” she determined after a moment. “But regrettably, I do want you to trust me.”
“Perhaps you’re unfamiliar with the concept of trust,” Tristan pointed out, assuming that she almost certainly was, “but it is very rarely based on nothing. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re suggesting that you’d like me to blindly trust your judgment despite having multiple things you’re unwilling to tell me?”
“I know the inside of your head, Tristan,” Parisa reminded him, the same way he’d commented on his intimacy with her, albeit more confidently. She had actually taken stock of his details, whereas he, with her, had been mostly preoccupied. “You wouldn’t take it well.”
“Ah, wonderful,” Tristan muttered. “You even condescend beautifully.”
When she shifted towards him on the bed he caught a hint of her perfume, only it wasn’t hers entirely. Parisa had a signature scent, a spectrum of florals. At the moment, there were traces of cologne, musks of something masculine and smoky, which, to Eden’s credit, Tristan’s former fiancée had always been very careful to prevent. Eden Wessex might not have known that Tristan could see through her illusions, but she was a very dutiful adulterer. He had considered it—still considered it, in fact—to be one of her primary strengths.
“This Society,” Parisa said, jolting him back to the point. “It’s not what I thought. They’re telling us at least one lie.”
The restless feeling of resistance bristled again, rearing up in protest. Again, the usual torment: Tristan wanted to believe the Society was giving him something he could not have gotten otherwise. He was suspicious of what that something was. Now, Parisa was tipping the scales once again, feeding his inexhaustible doubt.
“I don’t think there’s anything to be done about it,” Parisa remarked curtly. “Not yet. But I think it’s worth knowing who we work for.”
Tristan frowned. “Atlas, you mean?”
“Or is it?” she posed, pursing her lips. “There are some answers I need to dig up, I think, but in the meantime, you need to be careful.”
He hated to continuously express his bewilderment, but there was nothing for it.
“Me?”
“Callum is influencing you,” said Parisa. “I don’t know if he’s doing it magically or otherwise, but he wants something from you. He’s willing to blind you to accomplish it.”
“I’m not a damsel, Parisa. I don’t need rescuing.”
That, much to the dismay of his vanity, only served to amuse her. “Actually, I think you’re precisely a damsel, Tristan.” She reached out, touching his cheek. “I know you don’t trust Callum,” she said, murmuring it. “I think that’s precisely what he’s using against you. He’s presenting you with his reality, thinking his candor will appeal to you, but you’re not listening, are you, Tristan? You’re not listening to what he really is, even when he says it to your face.”
Tristan stiffened. “If I don’t trust him, then what does it matter?”
“Because even if you don’t trust him, you believe him. He is influencing your perception by confirming everything you already believe to be true. He’s planting things in you, and I worry.”