Iris~~

Perched on the edge of the bathtub, I wash myself off with one of the towels . . . Jonas . . . gave me. Most of the wine seeped through the middle of the dress so in choosing to leave my dress on, cleaning my stomach off is awkward to say the least. I reach for more soap but pause. That's the Preeminence's soap bottle—Jonas's soap bottle. How did I wind up here? I wipe my forehead with the back of my arm, only to remember my makeup after the fact. Erik and I had a plan, a rough plan with no timeline, but a plan. Yet here's the Preeminence—Jonas helping me survive in his world. Pushing Erik's plan to change the Society to the side for a moment, there's still mine. Destroy the Society. How can I destroy it though when the man who spared me compromises the very image I have of it? No, I'm not smitten with him. He's been . . . amiable. That's it. How can I shred kindness to pieces? The Preeminence wasn't supposed to be kind. What does that say about the rest of the Society? Are they all not the same monsters I always believed?

The door opens. At the sound, my hands straighten my dress out as far as it will go. I twist my head in time to see the door slamming.

"I'm so sorry."

I grab the dry towel he gave me, rubbing it over my legs.

"I'm not used to knocking before entering my own bathroom," he says through the door.

I stand, letting out a deep breath. "Trying to steal a peek?"

"No, of course, not. Err—what I mean to say is that while you're beautiful, I would never . . . not that I wouldn't want to—This is all coming out horribly wrong."

"Did I make the Preeminence flustered?"

"What happened to Jonas?" his voice is tight.

I laugh, and, after a few seconds, he laughs too. It's a beautiful sound.

"You're messing with me, aren't you?" he says.

I fold up the towel, dropping my eyes from the door. "I couldn't help it. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. A maid's bringing up a dress, but in the meantime, if you're not opposed, you can use my robe. I used it earlier today, but it should be dry."

Hanging by the shower is the robe. Yes, Iris, destroy the guy's life whose robe you're about to wear. I peel off my black dress and, leaving my undergarments on, slip into the gray robe. I catch whiffs of a crisp, clean scent. It must be one of his soaps. Fastening the tie feels like I'm wrapping myself in a blanket, not only because of how the robe feels but because it's too big.

"You can come in."

He opens the door and I'd say hesitantly so. I refrain from making eye contact, him calling me beautiful fresh in my mind. I wouldn't be surprised if he's trying to lull me into a net of safety before killing me, but he still said it, and I'm wearing a robe. His robe.

"Again, I'm sorry."

I cross my arms, clutching my sides with my hands. "It's honestly fine."

He rubs the back of his neck. "I wanted to mention it earlier, but my parents interrupted. I'd hoped Erik might have said something."

"About what?"

He drops his hand from his neck. "As you can clearly see, my family is proud. I wouldn't be the first one of us to admit we're arrogant." He leans against the counter, closer now. "Don't make eye contact with anyone. Including the servants. They will all see it as an insult. A lack of respect."

I turn my head away, eyes on the floor and arms still crossed. Here I was believing he was the one person it was okay to look in the eyes because it didn't seem like he was insulted. I'm a fool. He's the Preeminence. "Erik told me."

I hear Jonas's footsteps and sense him hovering next to me.

"Do me a favor though."

I turn my head slightly, eyes still downcast.

"Don't stop looking at me."

My green eyes meet his blue. I twist the fabric of the robe in my hands. "Why do you care, Jonas? What do you have to gain from helping me? Wasn't sparing me enough?"

"No." He takes off his crown. Examining it, he rubs his thumb over the ridges of the leaves. "This crown means a lifetime of growing up around enough family members that you don't even know how most of them are related to you. For those who aren't family, they're close enough that it feels as if they are." He shakes his head. "They'll probably marry in anyway one day. Most everyone else I meet are in the governments of other countries. When I have met the people I rule over, they bow and keep their heads down. I don't get to see their faces. But when I look in your eyes, I see my country, Iris. Maybe that seems absurd to you." He looks back up at me. "I don't know how to explain it. I don't think I can."

Someone knocks on his bedroom door.

"That would be the maid. If I don't see you again tonight, I hope you sleep well. It's been a pleasure getting to know you, and I hope my lack of cold-bloodedness wasn't a disappointment."

I force myself to laugh. "Not at all and thank you for everything."

I watch him exit, the king of Elleany. A disappointment? No. On the contrary. It's his lack of cold-bloodedness I find terrifying.

After I change, I head downstairs, planning to go back to the ballroom. I hesitate on the first floor, the staircase leading underground stealing my attention. I can't see anyone around, and a quick peak can't hurt. Jonas didn't mention the staircase at all. No one's said it's off limits.

Up close, I realize the amber light comes from candelabras embedded in stone alcoves. They're the only light source I can see. They perform their task enough to cast a glow over each step.

Only a peak and then I'll find Erik. I chant that in my head as I bring the heel of my shoe down on the first step.

"Iris."