Sweet Innocence and Gentle Sin || 𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐑

Chapter 22: We Share No Blood

She's been everybody else's girl. Maybe one day she'll be her own. 

~)(~

There was nothing worse than the few minutes of standing and waiting. Those minutes I had to calm myself enough to reel in centuries of emotions that threatened to spill over and drown me. I had to fight back, had to prove to myself that I could. If I couldn't, then I was no better than the dead.

It was hot and humid with all the bodies stuck in one room, and I was getting claustrophobic with how tight it was. There were guards stationed around the walls and a handful of generals talking around a table. What they talked about? The same thing they always did—the big plan. But they all had different ideas about what that plan was. For some, it was to attack, to assassinate, or to ambush now. For others, it was to take what we could and run.

I was leaning against the wall opposite the entrance, with Jurian beside me. He didn't want to stir the pot of angry old men but enjoyed watching them as much as I did. And they were quite the show. Like a dramatic art piece of oil paint. One that depicts the fall of man through violence and hate. If women are born with rage, men are born with wrath.

Jurian nudged my shoulder. "Still with us?"

I blinked and looked over. "What?"

"You're staring at that table like you want it to catch fire."

I huffed. "I'm just nervous."

"I can imagine," he said, taking a deep breath.

"The last time I saw my uncle, I punched the High Lord of Spring."

He laughed and shook his head. "How are we going to top that?"

I rolled my eyes. "This isn't a game. Gods, I can't believe we're doing this."

"I'll take the punishment if you decide to leave," Jurian said, smiling softly.

I just rolled my eyes and leaned over to rest my head on his shoulder. Jurian was the one person in this place I felt like I could trust. Not even Azriel fully fit that role. Something about Jurian, about the simplicity of his humanity, made me comfortable. There wasn't a hidden power or a deeper sour desire. He knew his place and knew that place was the safest he could be.

Azriel was... different. I liked to say I trusted him, liked to make him think I did. But I couldn't really trust him without feeling like a fraud. There were things I knew he would judge me for, things he might hurt me for. I couldn't trust myself to be comfortable around him enough to tell to truth.

Maybe it was because of his proximity to the High Lord, or it was an instinct to learn and manipulate due to him being a shadowsinger. Even though it was mostly myth, every story held the same theme that shadowsingers were always manipulative.

"Do you think this will work?" I asked.

Jurian shrugged. "Depends on how hot and bothered everyone is. I think if the High Lord really wanted to talk peace, he wouldn't gather such a large group of males. Half these men don't belong here."

"Do you think it's a setup?"

He shook his head. "The High Lord would've told us—told you."

"You underestimate how sociopathic he is."

Jurian had to hide his laugh as a cough, giving a small wave to the few males who turned their heads. "You can't just say that stuff."

I gave a small smile. "I don't care what they think of me. As long as it's not some fragile princess anymore."