“Enough,” Mattias intervenes. “There is no need to take your aggression and concern out on each other. Put it where it belongs. On Trissa.”
“Hey!” I exclaim in protest.
Mattias lifts a brow at me. “You are under my command too, girl. I own you as much as they do. And I tell you now, your disobedience will not be permitted. You chose to return here—and as I have already said, that also meant choosing to accept the consequences. Stop stirring up trouble among your men and make a proper apology.”
It was different before. When they spanked me, fucked me, lectured me, it was easy to be sorry then. But am I sorry now? I don’t know anymore. Seems to me I did the right thing, even though I was doing the wrong thing. If I hadn’t killed the sheriff, nobody would have died. But if nobody had died, Dallas wouldn’t be free, Mattias would still be a eunuch slave, and I would be an object to be sold and used. I sinned again when I set out for Dallas the second time, but in the process I brought us together. Mattias is a good king, but he will be a better protected one with my mercenaries around him. And my child will grow up in a city of opportunity, in a world that is changing for the better, not roaming a desolate wasteland learning the wrong words for things.
Oren won’t understand my defiance. Mattias won’t appreciate it. Alexios and Silver might be more sympathetic, but who are they against a pharaoh and a king?
I lift my chin and shake my head. “I can’t.”
“Don’t worry,” Mattias smiles patiently. “I will have you in a much more sorry mood soon enough.”