Alyssa's birthday celebration is filled with bittersweet moments. Four nobles hatch a plot to strike at the King, which bring's Alyssa and James' sort-of friendship to an end.
James did not return to Alyssa’s room for four days. On the fourth night, he showed up drunk.
She was in the music room with her headphones on when he staggered in and dropped into a chair, bottle in hand. “Dym says I’m in love with you. What do you think?”
She took the headphones off. “I don’t think you know how to love, James.”
“Of course I do. I love my son. I love my grandson—”
“No, you don’t. You only love certain qualities in them—the ones that remind you of you. That’s not love, it’s ego.”
Closing his eyes, James shook his head. “Vicious.”
“If you knew what loving someone felt like, you wouldn’t have to ask me.”
“Do you love me?”
Alyssa made an exasperated noise. “That’s it. I’m cutting you off.” She got up and tried to take the bottle away from him. They wrestled for it. The next thing she knew, she was flat on her back on the floor, his weight on top of her.
His eyes were bloodshot, his breath hot in her face. “Answer the question. Do you love me?”
“I’m your prisoner.”
“So, what? If a man sees a woman he wants, he may take her. If he can keep her, she’s his. And I’ve kept you.”
She shook her head violently.
“Say it. Say it, damn you!”
“You say it,” she spat. “But you can’t. You can’t. Why would I give my affections to a monster like you?”
Sighing, he rolled off her. “Lying to yourself.”
They lay side-by-side, looking up at the ceiling. “If you know everything, what do you need me for?” she asked.
“Why would you be working so hard to avoid the question, unless the answer was yes?”
“I gave you an answer. I don’t do well with captivity. I told you about that guy I tried to eighty-six that time.”
“You may have left the Dormitory, but you stayed with the Order. You must have loved something about it.”
“That’s your argument? If I’m going to be abused, I might as well be abused by you?”
“Everyone’s a slave to something.”
“You’re not.”
“The hell I’m not! I’m chained to this place—to Corbenic, to Four Mothers, to these people, and to my father before that. You’ve been here nearly a year. Did you somehow fail to notice that I’m—” he broke off.
She waited to see if he would actually say it, that he was miserable, that he was lonely. But he didn’t. He just sat up, scrubbed at his face with his hands. When he spoke again, his voice was low. “It’s not just Endymion. Henri said it, too. I’ve killed men before, as you well know. In duels, yes. In war, certainly. And my father—just as you said. But never with my bare hands. I know you’ll never believe it, but it was for you. I’ve never done that for anyone—not Endymion, not my wife. Only for you.”
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