“And what happens if you forfeit?” Lottie asked in response, an idea forming.
The look on Ingrid’s face turned venomous, her eyes narrowing at Lottie. Clearly Lottie was the only one expected to play.
“Truth or dare?” Ingrid asked, plonking herself down cross-legged on the ground. It made for the strangest scene. It was like looking at a monster meditating.
“Truth,” Lottie said, gulping down her terror.
The predatory split of a smile spread back over Ingrid’s face. “Why is Jamie your Partizan?”
The question was a blanket of ice, freezing Lottie in place.
She knew the facts. That Jamie’s mother had sought refuge in the palace, that she’d died in childbirth and the royal family had kept him and trained him to be Ellie’s Partizan. But the question was so very loaded, and nothing she knew about the Maravish royal family felt solid anymore.
Why are you Ellie’s Partizan, Jamie? Lottie thought, unable to find any words. She looked up at Ingrid’s swirling eyes, wondering what answer she would be hoping for.
“Guilt.” Lottie felt the word leave her throat before she could process it, and it shocked them both. “He feels like he owes my family and is scared he’s not worthy.”
She could hardly believe she had said something so awful out loud.
It took Ingrid a second to process her answer, but her confusion did not last long and was quickly replaced by menace. “Wrong.”
It happened so fast that Lottie barely had any time to register it. One moment her hand was her own, and then it was pulled forward as Ingrid grabbed her, raised her arm, and sliced so cleanly and quickly that the pain had to catch up with her.
Lottie didn’t make a sound. She simply cradled her arm and watched as a dark red line began to pool out from the back of her hand.
“You know what’s funny?” Lottie said, using every ounce of bravery to not let her voice shake. She couldn’t look at Ingrid, too scared to see that grin, but she knew her calm confused her. “When I first met you I thought your knives were dipped in poison.”
Words were powerful, and Lottie chose hers very carefully.
A splutter escaped from Ingrid’s mouth, and Lottie knew she’d been successful. She chanced a look to see disgust on her captor’s face.
Ingrid lifted her knife to the sun, inspecting the drops of blood that dripped down like syrup. “I would never,” she said. “It would be boring if the fight ended so quickly.” The look in her eye was almost fond. She gazed up at her blade, rubbing her thumb against the cold metal spider that wrapped around the grip.
Her eyes pounced back to Lottie with a look so deadly she felt as though she were being devoured.
“Truth or dare?” she asked slowly, placing her knife back on the ground. But Lottie had seen that Ingrid was distractible. That words could affect her.
“Dare,” Lottie replied, feeling braver than she should have. It was most certainly the wrong thing to say.
Ingrid grinned. “I dare you to destroy that letter you stole.”
“What?” Lottie spluttered. “That’s not . . . I don’t know what you’re talking about!” The question made her brain fuzzy, because the way Ingrid said this suggested Leviathan knew everything.
Something changed on Ingrid’s face, her smile coiling in on itself. “You’re confused.” Her face came close to Lottie’s. “But that’s okay. Let me explain. I want that letter gone, so we can move on to the better plan.” Her breath tickled Lottie’s cheek. “You know, the plan where we dispose of those lying parents of yours.”
“What are you talking about? What have you done?”
A cackle bubbled out of Ingrid, and Lottie thought of Claude, the black wolf of the family, and the awful Hamelin Formula he’d got his hands on, a formula with the power to make anyone do anything he wanted.
Could this possibly be his plan? It seemed too gruesome, too awful to possibly be true.
A milky, distant look took over Ingrid’s gaze, like she was staring at a vision of the future.
“Once they’re gone,” she began, with the dreamy voice of a psychic telling Lottie her future, “he’ll be welcomed with the respect he deserves. Just like Alexis.”
Alexis.
The name caught in Lottie’s head like snagging fabric, tugging at a memory she couldn’t place.
“Now come on,” Ingrid demanded, cutting Lottie’s thoughts short. “Tell me where that letter is. We know you have it somewhere.”
Her face was twisted with laughter, but this wasn’t a woman working toward a team goal. This was a mad girl determined to cause as much damage as possible.
But why did she feel such hatred toward the Maravish royal family? What could have made her this way?
“I . . . I don’t understand. What did we do? I don’t know what we’ve done,” Lottie spluttered.
Ingrid looked furious. “You don’t know what you’ve done?” she growled, all the humor vanishing from her voice. “You took Jamie.”
It was all nonsense, venomous rambling that Lottie couldn’t understand, couldn’t reckon with, and she watched in horror as Ingrid grabbed her knife again. “And it’s disgusting. You and your family are a horrible, lying, repulsive pack of rats. You don’t deserve the mercy the Master planned for you. I won’t let you get off so easy.”
Lottie tried to lean out of the way, diving to the side, but Ingrid grabbed her hair and pulled her backward with a hard yank.
“That’s a forfeit,” she hissed in her ear, taking the knife and pulling it along her cheek. Hot blood trickled down her face, yet all Lottie could focus on was what lay in front of her asleep in the ground, unnoticed.
“You’re weak and pathetic.” Ingrid pulled Lottie’s hair again, moving them even closer. Liliana’s sword lay mere centimeters away, and Ingrid was too frenzied to notice.
Each time Ingrid pushed and pulled her, the sword glinted, calling to her, getting closer with every haphazard shove.
“Foul, worthless . . .” The words rolled off Lottie. They were scorching embers spitting with fire and fury from Ingrid’s bloodied mouth, but when they
