Chapter 62

Evelyn

I smelled the dinner before I saw it. Even before I stepped into the tent, the scent of roasted root vegetables, something vaguely resembling grilled meat, and stale, reheated bread filled my nose. Seeing the plethora of choices set before me confirmed my assumptions: This was the best fare the rogues could provide.

It wasn’t exactly the sort of food that would make up a palace feast, but for a rogue camp, it was the equivalent of rolling out a red carpet. A long, low table in Jesse’s tent had been cleared of maps and weapons. Now, it was set with mismatched silverware, heaping platters of food, and a chipped pitcher of wine.

He was already sitting when I walked in, a full goblet in hand.

“Evelyn,” Jesse greeted, not deigning to rise and bow. “Perfect timing. I was going to have to dig in myself if you kept me waiting any longer.”

I said nothing. I had decided after the messenger left me with Jesse’s invitation that I would not speak to him unless he spoke to me first. I would only provide him with the bare minimum of conversation to keep him satisfied. So, I just took the seat across from him, letting the silence answer for me.

He didn’t seem to notice or mind my mute protest. Instead, he poured wine into a mismatched goblet for me before topping his own drink off.

“I had them raid a few supply caravans for this. It’s a vintage red. We are used to much worse, but I figured your tastes might have sharpened throughout your time in the palace.” He gestured to the food with a flourish, smirking. “Don’t say I never do anything nice.”

I raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond. Though the array of food was rather unimpressive overall, the smell still managed to do terrible things to my stomach. I hadn’t eaten since before I fled the palace the night before, but I wasn’t about to thank him for providing me with the bare minimum.

Wordlessly, I filled the plate in front of me with the most appetizing choices before I picked up my fork. As I brought forkfuls to my mouth, I chewed with caution. I didn’t taste anything out of the ordinary as I swallowed, and Jesse filled his own platter with the same stuff. It was unlikely that they would fatally poison such a valuable prisoner, but I knew better than to get too comfortable.

Jesse picked at his food and mostly watched me, sipping his wine as he observed, eyes flicking between my face and my hands, like he was trying to read something I wasn’t saying. I tried to ignore his attention, but it raked down me like the brush of a hand.

“You’re not talking to me,” he finally noted, amused.

I broke a piece of the stale bread and inspected it. “Did you think kidnapping me would earn my good manners?”

He gave a quiet chuckle and leaned back. “I see why Logan is so fond of you. He has never preferred the demure type of woman. Always like a bit of fire. It must be a preference we both inherited. Fair enough, darling..”

For a few minutes, we sat in near silence. I ate as much as I could because I needed the strength, not because it was particularly good. It wasn’t bad either, just… mediocre.

All the while, Jesse drank and watched, an occasional smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. It was like he was trying to play my game, to see how long he could match my silence with his own. It did not last long.

“You dislike our food,” he said.

“It is fine,” I allowed, swallowing a mouthful of hard bread.

“I know that it is not the standard you are used to,” he said. “But it is still leaps and bounds better than what I grew up enduring. You can’t imagine the things I would have done when I was younger for a meal like this.”

I watched his gaze become distant as he was lost to some memory. He refilled his goblet once more before he spoke again.

“Do you know what it’s like,” Jesse finally said, voice lower now, almost distracted, “to grow up in the gutters of a city that pretends it doesn’t have street rats? To be ignored like trash?”

I blinked, surprised by the shift in tone.

“I was born the bastard of Logan’s father. We shared blood, but because mine was tainted by my omega mother, I was never accepted,” he said. “We begged for scraps while the nobles ate from gold plates. While Logan was tutored and pampered, I worked until my entire body ached. And my father—our father—would’ve sooner slit his own throat than acknowledge me and openly accept me.”

I said nothing. I wasn’t about to validate his pain with sympathy, not after what he’d done. But still, I could not inwardly deny the injustices of it all.

“When I was ten, I was almost beaten to death for stealing bread. Bread. It wasn’t even a full loaf.” He laughed bitterly. “The same kind you just picked apart with your delicate fingers. I hadn’t eaten a scrap in two days. That bread was the difference between survival and a cold death.”

I clenched my jaw. “So what, this is all revenge?”

“No,” he said, setting his cup down. “This is power. I earned mine the hard way. Logan had everything handed to him. I inherited nothing. My successes were all achieved through hard work. But even your hand in marriage… Logan didn’t earn that, did he?”

He leaned forward, eyes narrowing.

“And yet, I still remember the first time I saw you.”

I froze.

“It was years ago,” he said. “You were buying herbs in the marketplace. I was working myself to the bone once again. You were hard to miss in your white dress. I looked at you and thought, now this is a woman I would gladly work hard for. This is someone worth the struggle, worth the effort.”

He smirked, but there was no humor there. “Imagine my surprise when I found out that Logan had taken you for himself, yet again, having things handed to him.”

My throat dried up, but I managed to answer, “And then you kidnapped me.”

“Details.”

He smiled again, and I hated that for just a second, the pain in his eyes seemed real.

When I pushed my chair back and stood, he didn’t stop me. I couldn’t endure his spun stories any longer. He wanted me to pity him, but as his prisoner, I didn’t have it in me. Just as I reached the exit, though, his voice followed me like a hook.

“Things are different now, Evelyn,” he said. “No more Logan. No need to posture. We can work on this. Truly.”

I turned, cautious.

“You’ll be respected here. Treated with care. Anyone who forgets that… well, it’ll be their last offense.”

He said it so easily. So casually.

Like respect was just another coin to be traded or enforced by fear.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to charm me or manipulate me or if, somehow, he believed he was doing the right thing. This was a man who twisted everything, including his mind.

I left his tent in silence, not daring to say more, the stale scent of overcooked vegetables and meat still clinging to my clothes. Outside, the night was thick and quiet, the camp unusually still.

And inside me, a war waged louder than ever. I didn’t know what Jesse truly wanted by keeping me here, but I knew I’d be a fool to fall for his words.