It had only been a matter of time until Remo brought it up. “Remember that pouch of Daneelie scales a squadron of lucionaga confiscated a couple months ago?”
“The ones Joshua sold to the Earthly army to use in biological warfare?”
I wrinkled my nose. Daneelie scales were an aphrodisiac, and yes, they’d been used in battle before—by my own parents on the Day of Mist—but since then, a law had been passed forbidding their sale on the Neverrian and Earthly black markets.
Remo pulled me to a stop, his expression wavering between shock and more shock. “You had something to do with that?”
I bit my lip. “I didn’t know what they were going to be used for when I sold them to—”
“Wait. You sold them? They were your scales?”
My teeth sank deeper into my lip. I tried to collect my hand from his, but he tightened his grip, not even allowing any wiggle-room.
“Why?”
“Because I needed money.”
He let out a dull chuckle. “The princess of Neverra needed money? Come on, Amara. At least make up a better lie.”
“It’s not a lie,” I snapped. “I wanted to get my parents an anniversary gift.”
“You have billions in Earthly banks, not to mention trunks of gold in Neverra.”
“But those billions and gold aren’t mine, and I wanted this present to be from me.”
“So you clipped your scales and sold them to the most power-thirsty human general? How did you even meet him?”
“I didn’t. I gave Josh my scales, and he arranged the whole thing.”
“And that’s why you owe him,” he grumbled.
“No, I promised him a hefty commission on the sale.” I locked my gaze on the mist, because at least the mist wasn’t judging me. “I owe him because, when you guys busted him, he commed me to inform me he’d been compromised, and I begged him to take the blame for the scales.”
“Damn, Trifecta, you’re a real little villain. Not just my imaginary one.”
I pursed my lips but still didn’t look up, way too ashamed, but then another sentiment superseded my shame. Horror that I’d just confessed my crime to the wariff’s heir. The minute we were out of here, nothing would stop Remo from ratting me out.
I didn’t know if the invisible tether that had formed between us the night his little brother had tried to kill me would be present in the Scourge, but I frantically combed for it. And then I felt it! “You will take my confession to the grave, Remo Farrow.”
The strand between us vibrated like a plucked harp string, and then a knot tightened in my stomach. One must’ve tightened in his too, because his chin dipped into his neck, and his gaze dropped to his navel. “Did you just waste your gajoï on my silence?”
“I don’t consider it a waste,” I murmured.
Shadows fell over his expression. “I wouldn’t have snitched, Amara.”
My heart ratcheted up as I searched his face. Wouldn’t he have? I’d gifted him ammunition to get me into a world of trouble. My parents loved me, that I had zero doubt about, but I’d infringed a law, so they would have to punish me.
He turned, and since he was still holding my hand, he jerked me back into movement. And then he walked so fast that for every stride he took, I had to take two. Oh, he wasn’t hurt; he was furious. “I guess now you’ll be stuck with me as a husband. Won’t that be fun?” He popped the word out.
Dread rained goosebumps over my skin. “You said you weren’t interested in my crown.”
“I changed my mind.”
I stopped walking and yanked my hand back. Or at least, tried to. The only thing I managed was to make him stop his crazy speed-walking. “You’re not serious?”
“Till death do us part, sweetheart.”
“Remo, that’s not funny.”
“Am I laughing?”
“No, you’re not. You’re acting strange and scary.” Not to mention his fingers were crushing mine. “And you’re hurting me.”
He tossed my hand away as though it were a mikos and then he pivoted and stalked away, vanishing inside the mist.
23
The Cage
I didn’t go after him, allowing him time to cool off, but I kept walking toward the cliff, hoping he hadn’t decided to return to the train without me. The thick mist made it impossible to see more than a yard away, impossible to tell where he was. My trajectory was the cliff cresting over the white smog. Although I stepped carefully over the veiled terrain, I almost stumbled twice. By some miracle, that miracle probably being