“Maybe. But do you deserve to have to carry hate with you?”
I frowned and fidgeted on the bench. “Maybe. At least it makes it feel a little better.”
“I think you’ll grow to find that the little bit of relief you get is an illusion.”
I sighed, having nothing left to say. My father rose to leave and kissed me on the forehead. But when he reached the door of the workshop, he turned back around and smiled, staring at the pile of glass on the floor. “You used to do that when you were little, you know. My little Ellie, the perfectionist. Everything always had to be just so, or you thought you’d failed.”
My eyes stung, and I blinked hard as a painful lump formed in my throat.
“You were quite bad at glassblowing, you know. For a long while.”
I let out a strangled laugh, hardly able to hold back a sob. “I think your comforting skills might be getting a little rusty, Pa.”
As if he hadn’t heard me, my father continued, “But you were convinced you were going to be the best glassblower in all of Dwellen. Surpassed me, even.” I dared to look at my father. His brown eyes gleamed with pride in the lantern light. “I’ve always been so proud of you, Ellie. But I do miss it—you being little and needing my help. Teaching you about glass, watching your skills develop—those are some of my favorite memories.”
My heart swelled with mingled pain and loss and nostalgia until I felt it might burst.
“I’d never wish this upon you—losing everything you’ve worked so hard for. But Ellie, watching you struggle, watching you fight…” A rim of silver pooled on the edges of his eyelids. “I wouldn’t mind teaching you again.”
Tears streamed from my eyes as something coiled up deep within me unraveled.
“Well, just think about it,” he said.
I caught him in my embrace before he had a chance to leave.
I was still in the workshop when she came for me.
My father had already gone to bed. He’d encouraged me to do the same, but judging from the twinkle in his eyes, I figured we both knew it was a lost cause.
Tomorrow we’d begin our lessons, and Fates smite me if I wasn’t prepared.
I was prepping the materials for a simple window, one of our standard, non-ornate versions, when I heard the sultry voice. It snaked the length of my back, sending shivers down my spine.
“Such a shame you seem to have misplaced your talent. I suppose I’ll have to commission my wedding shoes elsewhere.”
I grabbed for a nearby iron poker and spun around. My makeshift blade clanked against something hard as Cinderella lunged for me, sending her whirring backward.
She hit the wall with a thud…
And immediately began massaging her back against the wall post like she was trying to work a knot out of her muscles.
Fates, I hated her.
She must have caught the look of disgust that was probably smeared across my face, because she shrugged, the moonlight from the window highlighting her pasty skin.
Okay, she wasn’t pasty. She was glowing.
Still, I preferred pasty.
I opened my mouth to scream.
“Uh-uh. Alert your dear parents, and I’ll just have to kill them first.”
The statement clamped my jaw shut as fear raced through me. Where were my guards? Evander had been true to his word; he’d sent members of his private guard to observe my house, to monitor me when I was out and about.
“How’d you get past the guards?” I asked.
She grinned, scraping the blade across her nails as if to trim them. For the first time, I noticed the blade was coated in blood. And I wasn’t bleeding.
“I have lots of little tricks you don’t know about. That no one knows about.”
Fear coursed through my veins, and I inched my foot to the side, preparing to sprint if I had to. “Not even the love of your life?”
Hate flickered in her blue eyes for a moment before her expression chilled.
“Can’t you give it a rest?” I asked. “You have what you want now. Evander’s bargain with me has been severed. You have him all to yourself. You win.”
“Ah, I wish it were that simple,” she cooed, “but alas, when I’m lying in Evander’s arms at night after he’s—well, since you’re an innocent I’ll put it politely—after he’s bedded me”—My blood coiled at the thought and vomit rose in my throat, but I swallowed it back down. My heart wouldn’t hurt for him. Not in my last moments. I was too proud for that—“I can’t help but stay wide awake. I can’t seem to find that sweet sleep. You see, all I can think about is you.”
“That sounds like your own problem,” I said, clutching my poker firmer until my knuckles paled.
“Yes, well, I’ll admit my body is horribly insecure. It tends to bring out my jealous nature,” she said, even as my ears perked at the oddity of her word choice. My body is insecure? “I’ve tried to work on it these past few weeks, for my sweet Evander’s sake. The male has a boyish heart and can’t stand for harm to come to anyone. I’d like to be that for him, I would. But I can’t do the sleepless nights anymore. He’ll be upset at first, I’m sure. But he’ll forgive me. He always does.”
I swallowed. Maybe if I could keep her talking, I could find an opening. The idea of skewering her perfectly curvaceous body on my poker probably shouldn’t have sent a thrill through me like it did. “I haven’t seen any news of your engagement in the papers.”
“Oh, you follow those? How pitiful.”
“What? Is Evander embarrassed of you? Afraid it might get out what poor taste he has? Or is it the king who won’t allow the news to go public?” I forced a wicked grin that mirrored hers. “But then again, I always was his favorite. You might have won Evander’s heart, but the king will always be a bit disappointed in you, I imagine.”
