From Slave To Queen (Athena and Michael) novel Chapter 63

Chapter 63

“What were you talking about so cheerfully with Ciro?”

I frown and try to turn around. When I manage to do so, I see he’s looking at me with a regal expression.

“Why do you care?”

“Because you’re my feeder.”

I study his expression longer than any sensible person would dare, and I see something–something that shouldn’t be there, or maybe something my subconscious wants to find.

“Nothing else?”

“Nothing else.”

I hold his gaze the whole time.

“Could Ciro offer me more freedom than I have now?”

My words unsettle him–his face tightens as he holds my gaze. I hear the leather reins creak under his grip and know I’ve hit a nerve

“Maybe,” he admits. “Or maybe he just wants a rarity for his collection.”

By saying that, he’s admitting he agrees with Ciro. To both of them, there’s something odd about me that makes me, as he said, “a rarity.” I fall silent and break eye contact, turning my gaze forward. Even though I’m not too familiar with the area, I instantly recognize we’re taking a different path than before.

“I warned you about Ciro’s powers,” he adds. “He’s a master of seduction and will do whatever it takes to have you. He acts like a child, and now you’re the toy he wants. He’d sell you anything.”

“He offered me the chance to visit his villa and see for myself that I could be happy with him.”

“He’d show you a theater.”

“I could go unannounced.”

“That’s not going to happen,” he says firmly.

That closes the topic, and he keeps taking us down this unknown path. We climb a steep area that forces my body to tense to keep balance. My back ends up pressed against his chest, and it causes a pull low in my stomach. The air grows purer the further we go.

We stop after what feels like centuries on a promontory overlooking a vast expanse. Cassian dismounts and helps me down. He leaves me there and walks to the edge of the cliff to look out. At first, I don’t understand what he’s watching until I approach. Miles and miles of what was undoubtedly once a dreamlike landscape, now stripped of life. Dry, barren land, scattered with half–rotten fallen logs.

“What are we doing here?”

“Sometimes I like to clear my mind and look at beautiful things, Elara.”

I look again at everything before us, not understanding where the beauty is.

“You call this beautiful?” I ask, incredulous.

“Maybe we’re not seeing the same thing.”

Surely not. I see the memory of something beautiful–but it’s no longer beautiful. And something inside me longs to have seen what must’ve once been a breathtaking place. I shift my gaze and find his eyes locked on me. That icy blue was made to torment me.

“What did you do in the final days before entering the Red Auction?”

His question is so sudden it leaves me speechless long enough to look foolish.

“You don’t have to pretend to care. It’s clear you’ll never even let me consider the idea of being Ciro’s feeder.”

“This isn’t about him,” he says, slightly annoyed. “I’m just curious. My time is unlimited–I’m curious to know what someone does when theirs isn’t.”

I turn his words over in my head, lost in memory. I replay that night in my mind. I can still feel the agonizing cold in my bones, the burning in my throat, and the thought that at any moment my lungs would burst. And then there’s that voice…

1/3

8:42 PM

Chapter 63

I take a deep breath and, without looking directly at him, I speak.

“I tried to end my life,” I confess.

Cassian shows no reaction to my confession–on the contrary, he remains impassive.

“Do you still want to?”

The question is sharp and precise–so much that it drives like a blade into my chest. I thought I’d need more time to answer, but it comes more easily than I expected.

“No, I don’t think I do.”

I hear the movement as he turns toward me. Now we’re looking straight at each other.

“Why has that changed? This is the fate you feared so much.”

He’s right. And yet, hate has helped me stay sane here. It’s been oddly invigorating to confront him and always search for a way to challenge his limits, however small his concessions may be. In this past month, I’ve lived more than in the rest of my life–and though it’s sad, I suppose that’s good a reason as any to keep holding on.

“Because I always felt empty,” I say. “I never allowed myself to enjoy anything because I knew what my destiny was. But maybe it wasn’t the end- maybe it was the beginning. Maybe I wasn’t meant to fit there–but to constantly challenge you. I don’t like you, Cassian. You’re cruel, wicked, and cold. But at least your constant ways of provoking me make me feel alive.”

There. I’ve said it. Let it out. My words seem to have had the same impact as his questions. I swear I see him falter slightly on his feet, as if it were too much. Maybe neither of us expected me to admit something like this–at least I know I didn’t. I won’t thank him for buying me, but I can at least admit this truth: since he did, the fire in my veins has burned brighter.

He clears his throat, as if trying to rid himself of my words.

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