the washroom. There’s a flaw in the wood on the table, and I pick at it absently while I think. Again, I should be plotting, planning, strategizing, but instead I just keep seeing Tessa. I hope she’s safe. For as much as I hate Rian, I don’t think he would hurt her. I remember the way he sat across from her at dinner in the palace, mocking me and flirting with her all at the same time. He’s exactly the man Weston Lark would be, if he were real. I swallow and it hurts. She thinks I’m dead. Rian might not harm her, but what I’m imagining him doing is a whole lot worse.
Im on the verge of tears
