four of them. Two stand at the gate, while two prowl up and down the causeway."
"Why are you scared of the lake?"
Jerking up her head, she stared at Micah. "What?"
"You're scared of the lake." His eyes pinned her to the spot. "Tell me why."
"My father is an evil man," she said, because what else was there to say. "I was a great disappointment as a daughter."
When Micah said nothing, simply watched her with eyes of cool winter-green, she began to feel as if she was drowning, though the water only came up to her shoulders. "I'd like to get out now," she said. "I need to prepare dinner."
For a second, she thought he'd refuse to leave and part of her wanted him to do exactly that - because it was something the old Micah would've done, the one who was sly and arrogant and liked to tease her in wicked, wicked ways. But this Micah - the one who had every right to hate her - pushed off the wall and stalked out, slamming the door behind himself. Trying for the ice-cold will that had allowed her to survive her father, she found only the hot burn of tears.
Stupid, stupid Liliana.
Her harsh imprecations didn't assuage the rawness in her throat, but a splash of cold water on her face after she left the bath had her eyes clearing at least. Rubbing herself dry, she once more put on the ugly brown dress in which she'd arrived, though it was dusty from the fight with the Arachdem. It seemed only fitting. She was no longer the woman for whom Micah had brought dresses of chocolate and red, green and silver.
Combing her hair straight, she stared at her face in the mirror.
It's a good thing you're my daughter or you'd be spit at like a mongrel dog on the street. As it is, men beg to come to your bed, even knowing they'll have to do the deed with their eyes closed.
Her stomach revolted at the memory and the only way she kept down what little she'd eaten was because she refused to give her father the satisfaction. Back then, she'd been young, a cowering animal on the floor that he'd kicked at with steel-toed boots to emphasize his words. Now she was a woman who was going to drag him into the Abyss for the basilisks to feed on.
With that in mind, she opened the bathroom door and walked out to face Micah.
He wasn't there.
Her hand trembled on the edge of the door but she shook her head, said, "No more tears." There was no longer any room for self-pity. No room to mourn the loss of something that hadn't been hers to begin with; she'd been a thief, stolen so many moments, moments she'd never, ever thought to have. That stolen hoard would have to be enough.
Except now that she'd touched Micah, been touched by him, been looked at as if she was beautiful even though she knew she wasn't, it hurt much, much more than before, when she hadn't expected anything at all.
Micah prowled the great hall until his patience ran out. "Where is my meal?!" he roared so loudly the walls shook.
Bard turned baleful eyes on him. "Jissa will be scared."
"Find her!" If she had tried to run away, he'd throw her in the dungeon and chain her up with cuffs of iron forged in the burning cold of the Abyss.
The door opened on the heels of his command, the object of his anger walking in with a tray. "I'm sorry this is late, my lord." Her words were polite, reserved.
He scowled and went to grab a seat. The food she placed in front of him was some kind of a thick stew with rice, followed by fruit. She set it out and went to leave until he grabbed her wrist. "You will stay here." But he nodded at Bard to leave.
Liliana stood motionless beside him as he ate.
"Why are you scared of the lake?" he asked her once more.
She grew stiff. "I - "
He waited to see if she'd lie to him again.
"Just because," she said at last, "I was his daughter didn't mean I was safe from him."
Pulling her down with his grip on her wrist, he fed her a piece of fruit. "Sit. Eat. I need you healthy if we're to defeat your father."
Her lower lip trembled. He saw it. But she bit it and, tugging away her wrist, sat down at the table, began