A Cursed Son (Remnants of the Fallen Kingdom Book 1), page 10
“You know what’s hilarious? They had no qualms giving you away for nothing to be raped on your wedding night.” I see a sheen of fury in his eyes—but it isn’t a threat.
I don’t think it is, at least. Or maybe that’s my pointless, crazy hope. “You wouldn’t do that.” I can still recall his promise, still remember his soft, whispered words.
He smirks. “But they don’t know that, do they?”
“It wouldn’t cross their mind.” Wouldn’t it? I recall Andrezza’s words… He’ll expect it to hurt. It makes him feel powerful. Ugh.
“Come on, you can’t be that naïve, wife.” The word is laced in mockery, turned into some odd insult. “What do you think I told them? What was my reason to want you so badly?” He chuckles. “Political alliance? It was more like oh, she’s so pretty, I can’t stop thinking about her.” His voice is mocking and high and extremely irritating.
I feel shaken to my bones, and decide to throw all my inexistent caution to the wind. “So you think they expect you to be a brute who doesn’t know how to seduce a woman?”
He cocks his head. “What else would they expect? Unless… Fair. They might think I’ll rape you gently tonight.”
That’s not true. At all. “They did ask me—just so you know. And I chose to do my duty.”
“Oh, I have no doubt they asked. Right after you had already been sold like a cow.” As if his words didn’t hurt enough, he adds, “For a couple cheap trinkets and some pointless promises.”
Cheap trinkets. I’m not going to show him how deep his words cut, so I smile instead. “Congratulations, you got a bargain.”
“I know. Impressive, right? That’s the value of power, and why it’s so coveted.” He snaps his fingers. “You can just do what you want. Take what you want.”
Like the fae relics. “Are you proud of that?”
“That’s not how you should treat people. But this time it came in handy.” He stares at me again. “A forced hand. I can’t let you tatter my secrets to my brother. I just can’t, wife.” The word carries less bite this time. “You gave me no choice.”
There’s no point trying to be nice to him. I don’t think he even likes me, so I decide to be honest—in part, at least.
“That makes no sense. Even if I could see your secrets, and let’s not forget you’re the one with the mind magic, how does that relate to King Renel?”
“Prince Renel. He’s never been crowned.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Oh. Have you?”
He laughs and looks away. “I must admit, wife, your power is quite impressive. Quite impressive. Doesn’t impress me, but explains what they were raising you for.”
He knows too much about me, and yet, I’m not sure what he’s referring to. “Really? Enlighten me.”
There’s still a smug smile on his face, but it softens as he looks at me, speaking slowly. “With your powers, you could bring my brother to his knees. You could make him your slave. It would be a beautiful thing to see, except for the part where he would get access to my mind. Now, I can’t have that, can I?”
Right. Marlak’s insane. “Wow, you concocted quite a story. What do you think the Crystal Court king would do with a human wife?”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” He shrugs. “Rape her. I doubt he’d do it gently.”
“You’re obsessed with that word.”
“Shouldn’t I be? I don’t see why you are not concerned.”
This talk makes me uncomfortable. “I’m not… I’m not the one they’d send for a wedding like that. And to wed the Crystal Court king… they might send the princess herself. It’s a dream alliance.” Maybe not, if I recall what I overheard, but there was no guarantee Otavio would succeed.
“An alliance that was carefully planned. Fair, maybe they’ll send the princess. And they might send her maids with her. Same problem.”
I’m rattled by how much he knows about me, and yet I don’t want to ask how he learned it and reveal that he’s right, in case he’s bluffing. Also, I still don’t think King Renel was the alliance Otavio and Andrezza meant. “The odds that your brother will want to marry Princess Driziely are zero.”
“Then you’re not paying attention. The Krastel King has spread far and wide the myth that his daughter is the most beautiful woman in the world, the most enchanting, that men who catch a mere glimpse of her go wild with desire.”
“That’s nonsense.”
“Obviously.” He gestures towards me. “I’m here looking at you and know that it’s a ridiculous farce.”
Wow, thanks! I mean, not that I think me and the other substitutes can drive anyone mad with desire, but the way he says it… I keep my face flat, though.
He continues, “You know why your king is doing it? To make her a coveted prize. The man who marries her will attain a symbol of power, a symbol of prestige. Yes, my brother would eat that up.”
“Because you obviously think he’s stupid.”
“Not at all.” His forehead has a slight frown. “He’s brilliant. And he knows that symbols matter.”
None of this makes sense. “He can have a beautiful fae wife.”
“He can have hundreds of fae lovers. That’s a different issue. He won’t pass up this opportunity.”
I roll my eyes. “I guess you have it all figured out, then.”
“Oh, I do.” I can see the scheming, the evil in his words, his poorly contained anger. “It’s about predicting your opponent’s moves. I won’t lie.” He leans forward, his face close to me. “There is a satisfaction in owning something that would be his.”
As if he didn’t have a whole bunch of stuff stolen from his brother. “I’m not a thing.”
“For him, you’d be.” He’s still close, his smell fresh and citrusy.
Perhaps this is not the best time to realize I haven’t even bathed before coming, so I stick to the topic, and I’m honest. “And I wouldn’t be the one sent to marry him, if that ever came to pass.”
“Well, that’s not a risk I’m willing to take. Happy now? That you know why I married you? So you won’t be wondering if I’m planning to feed you to the fish.”
His logic is based on some bold assumptions, but I understand that he doesn’t want me spilling his secrets, which means… It hits me then, and I meet his eyes. “You’ll keep me as a prisoner.”
“Right. Such a pity, you were so free before that. And prisoner, wife, is that really different?”
“A wife can come and go as she pleases.”
“Not all of them, no.” He points a finger at me. “That said, at least you won’t be—”
“Raped. I know. Can you stop?”
“I was going to say mistreated, but it’s true that your point is a lot more valid. And I’ll protect you.”
Still, this is a punishment, but I can’t be the only one who’s unhappy. I smile at him. “Congratulations. You just married a measly…” I was going to say substitute, but I don’t want to reveal that. What should I say? Maid? Attendant? “Guard.”
“You are the legitimate Crystal Court Queen.”
Am I supposed to laugh? Maybe not. “I meant before.”
He smirks. “You were the future legitimate Crystal Court Queen.”
“Of course. I suppose this was written in the stars.” My voice is full of sarcasm, but then I recall the threads of destiny. No, whatever this is, it has nothing to do with my visions, with my kindred soul.
“Things are only written once we write them. Then there’s no choice but to accept what is.” His voice is slow, solemn, perhaps pained?
I don’t suppose he’s trying to evoke pity, is he? He who has committed horrific atrocities, such as… “Did you attack Lord Stratson’s estate?” I blurt.
He looks at me and frowns. “I don’t keep track of human lords, and much less attack them.”
It sounds convincing, but it could be a lie. Wait a minute. Can he even lie? He looks human but he’s a full-blooded fae.
I know the question is stupid, but it leaves my mouth before I call it back. “Can you lie?”
“That’s a question without a satisfactory answer, wife.” His mocking tone is back.
“You could say yes. That would be an answer.”
“Well, my answer’s no.”
He stares at me with a mocking smirk, knowing I don’t have an answer to my question, then extends his arms on the back of the seat behind him. My heart flutters for a moment, as I’m reminded of my dreams, when I’m nested in the space between his arm and his chest, enveloped in a wonderful feeling of love and safety.
Not his arms. It’s not the same person. I need to remember that, so those visions don’t muddle my mind.
Marlak’s observing me, eyes narrowed, visibly displeased with something. I notice that his eyes look like they have a thin layer of black ink, but it’s not ink. It’s his dark, thick eyelashes that give that impression. For some reason they look beautiful and menacing at the same time. And I shouldn’t be noticing his eyes.
“Wife,” he says slowly. “You will be free—within certain constraints, of course.” Like being a prisoner. I know. He continues, “And I’ll do my best to provide and protect you, but do not play with me. Do not mock me. Are your powers impressive? Absolutely. Do they affect me? Not at all. So don’t waste them.”
Powers? Oh, right. He thinks I’m some kind of seductress. I try to imagine myself in a dress with a low cut, and it just looks ridiculous. Then again, that strategy doesn’t work for everyone. What would work for Marlak? Probably nothing. Covering myself in treasure, maybe, as if he didn’t have more than enough.
“I don’t have any powers.”
“I know you don’t. Not any that will affect me, at least, and I’d really rather you didn’t make a fool of yourself.” He leans over again, and the only reason his face is not close to me anymore is because I lean as far back as I can, even if it’s a position that conveys fear. I don’t care.
“Understand, Astra.” His voice is slow and careful. “I don’t think you’re alluring, I don’t think you’re charming, I don’t think you’re attractive. Your pathetic attempts at seducing me are laughable. Your crude attempts at trying to elicit a physical response are not only pitiful, they’re vulgar and tasteless. I suggest you stop them.”
Great. Now I’m feeling angry and humiliated, and it’s so hard to hold back my tears when I’m feeling like that. My only chance to keep them in check is by fighting back, even if nothing comes to mind but immature words.
“Oh, look who’s talking. One would think you’re prince charming. You’re overcooked, husband.” I can also make a mockery of that. “They forgot to turn you on the spit.”
He laughs. “Oh, wife, you’re so creative with your insults. You must think I don’t have a mirror, but I do. I know very well that I’m ugly, disfigured, scarred.” Those words are utterly ridiculous, but I’m not going to tell him that.
He leans forward even more. “I know very well that I’m repulsive. I know what I am. I know what I look like. What you don’t know is that I can be a monster both on the outside and on the inside.”
For a second, I don’t have a reply. I don’t know what to say. Angry tears are threatening to burst through, but I won’t let them. I won’t let them.
“Oh, look at him. So manly and so threatening. Are you trying to compensate for something? Is it your itsy-bitsy weenie?” I know. I know I’m arguing like a ten-year-old, but it’s either that or crying, and I’m not going to let him see me cry.
He leans back and laughs. “But you know exactly how tiny it is, don’t you? You pretended to like it just enough.”
Oh. He means… Oh. I can still recall holding it. No, no, no. It was a dream. My dream—and I have to erase it from my mind.
Keeping my face blank and even a little surprised, I say, “You’re insane.”
“Yes. I’m the one who’s insane. I’m the one who plants dreams in other people’s heads.”
“You have your ring.” I glance at his hand, but don’t spot the Shadow Ring. “Usually. No magic can reach you. If that magic even existed. You’re making excuses for your depraved fantasies.”
He nods. “I’m glad you’re aware they’re depraved. And I don’t think you understand how the Shadow Ring works.”
“Perhaps you’d like to enlighten me?”
“Maybe. Once you stop it, Astra. Stop trying. It’s useless and bothersome.” His voice is sharp like a dagger, while his black eyes hide a storm behind them.
“You’re delusional. Who in their right mind would want to seduce you?”
“Nobody. We both know that.” He raises an eyebrow and smirks.
I don’t know what he’s smirking at, frankly, and yet there’s a harshness in his eyes… I look down. He’s pretty much telling me to stop the visions and dreams, but how am I going to stop something I can’t control? Can I confess I can’t control them? I don’t even know if he’d believe me.
“There’s something else,” he says.
Bracing myself for another round of humiliation, I stare at him. “Yes?”
“They’ll try to hurt you to hurt me.”
“I see. I’m your shield now.”
“No. You’re my weakness. Or at least it’s how they’ll see it. It’s why you need to be hidden.”
I scoff. “Just say I’m your prisoner.”
“You know you are.” He throws his hands up. “But you’ll need to be careful, wife. You’ll be a target. For what it’s worth, I’m truly sorry for that.” He manages to say that softly.
Not softly like in the dreams, thankfully, but he still sounds kind, as if he hadn’t just called me a pathetic, unattractive, failed seductress.
“Yes. Poor you. So sorry.”
He shrugs. “Well, if you can’t handle the game, don’t play it.”
“I heard a different one. Don’t play with fire if you don’t want to get burned.” I narrow my eyes. “But I guess you know that already.”
His smile doesn’t leave him, but he turns and looks out the window. I’m partly relieved to be spared of his digs, partly worried that perhaps I pushed him too far.
Pointless tears are still threatening to leave my eyes. Part of me is furious at myself, in disbelief at the ridiculous, immature words I uttered. Part of me is furious at him, thinking he deserved every cruel insult.
At least both parts agree that none of this bodes well.
I dare look out the window, don’t see Mount Eye in front of us, and assume we’re going south. But where? There are fields around us, a fresh smell of leaves—and something citrusy as well. That’s his smell, I realize, and I have to control my head not to turn to him.
He’s been silent for a long time, and I fear that if I break that silence, he’ll surround me in a block of ice until we get to our destination. It does feel like there’s ice around me, ice between us, so maybe there is some magic at work, something dreadful that chills my insides.
But then, this is what my life’s going to be. The fae prince didn’t wed me so we could become friends and have a lovely time together. I’m his prisoner, paying for what I’ve done, paying for the danger he thinks I could pose. None of it was my fault, but he doesn’t know it, and I sure hope he never finds out.
When I look back at our interaction, I definitely want to disappear—again. Congratulations, Astra! Truly impressive. I mean, maybe I’m not an expert in seduction, but even a nitwit knows that telling someone he’s half-cooked is not the way into their heart. And while I have no intention of enchanting him, pissing him off is a terrible survival strategy.
How do I fix what I’ve done? If I’m too compliant, he’ll be suspicious—or worse, he’ll think I’m trying to seduce him. If I keep defying him, I’ll just aggravate him to a point of no return—assuming we haven’t reached it yet. Haha. I mean, I have to be optimistic here, right? My best bet is to wait for him to calm down, observe him, then start over and find a way to gain his trust.
I try not to look at him as he runs a ringed hand through his black curls. Duh. I guess I just did, but I look away and swallow. He’s so ridiculously good looking. I know, I know. It’s not what I thought before. He’s like the kind of food that tastes strange the first time you try it, but then, after a while, you realize you like it and even crave it. I’m not saying I like him, obviously, much less that I crave him. I mean the way he looks.
He might be able to lie, if he stared at me in the face and claimed he was ugly and owns a mirror. Only one of those statements can be true. I glance at him again, notice his eyes on me, and look away quickly. Oh, no. He’s going to think I’m playing games, and I’m not. I hope my tan is saving me and hiding the warmth on my cheeks.
What I do know is that my mind will explode if I keep second guessing and trying to control my face, my body, my expressions, my thoughts.
“Astra.” There’s no anger or irritation in his voice and it surprises me—or perhaps scares me. I turn to him, and he sighs. “I’m sorry. I mean, I don’t think I removed you from a decent life, but you obviously hold a different opinion. This won’t be forever.” He’s gentle again. Oh, he loves to make me confused. “Once my brother’s defeated, we’ll annul the marriage, and you’ll be free to do whatever you wish. I have no intention to keep you forever.”
His words sting, and I’m not sure if it’s because he used the verb keep, as if I was an animal, or if I’m smart enough to see the well-concealed reminder that he loathes me. I chuckle. “Cause I’m obviously pathetic and despicable.”
“I didn’t say that.” He throws his hands in the air. “Wife. By the gods. I’m trying to comfort you. I already said I won’t touch you. You should have seen yourself; you were pale. I mean, I should be offended, but I wasn’t. Now I’m saying I’ll set you free, and you’re upset?” He takes a deep breath and covers his face with his hands.
“You’re reminding me I’m your prisoner.” There’s no bite in my words. I’m tired of fighting and dreading going too far again. “And you know you might never defeat your brother.”
“I will. I’ll defeat him.” There’s no hesitation in his voice, and it’s not like a wish, but as if he was stating something obvious. “If it takes long, I don’t know…” He runs a hand over his curls, then stares at me. “After seven years, we can try to find another solution. It’s a promise. So don’t despair.”
I don’t think it is, at least. Or maybe that’s my pointless, crazy hope. “You wouldn’t do that.” I can still recall his promise, still remember his soft, whispered words.
He smirks. “But they don’t know that, do they?”
“It wouldn’t cross their mind.” Wouldn’t it? I recall Andrezza’s words… He’ll expect it to hurt. It makes him feel powerful. Ugh.
“Come on, you can’t be that naïve, wife.” The word is laced in mockery, turned into some odd insult. “What do you think I told them? What was my reason to want you so badly?” He chuckles. “Political alliance? It was more like oh, she’s so pretty, I can’t stop thinking about her.” His voice is mocking and high and extremely irritating.
I feel shaken to my bones, and decide to throw all my inexistent caution to the wind. “So you think they expect you to be a brute who doesn’t know how to seduce a woman?”
He cocks his head. “What else would they expect? Unless… Fair. They might think I’ll rape you gently tonight.”
That’s not true. At all. “They did ask me—just so you know. And I chose to do my duty.”
“Oh, I have no doubt they asked. Right after you had already been sold like a cow.” As if his words didn’t hurt enough, he adds, “For a couple cheap trinkets and some pointless promises.”
Cheap trinkets. I’m not going to show him how deep his words cut, so I smile instead. “Congratulations, you got a bargain.”
“I know. Impressive, right? That’s the value of power, and why it’s so coveted.” He snaps his fingers. “You can just do what you want. Take what you want.”
Like the fae relics. “Are you proud of that?”
“That’s not how you should treat people. But this time it came in handy.” He stares at me again. “A forced hand. I can’t let you tatter my secrets to my brother. I just can’t, wife.” The word carries less bite this time. “You gave me no choice.”
There’s no point trying to be nice to him. I don’t think he even likes me, so I decide to be honest—in part, at least.
“That makes no sense. Even if I could see your secrets, and let’s not forget you’re the one with the mind magic, how does that relate to King Renel?”
“Prince Renel. He’s never been crowned.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Oh. Have you?”
He laughs and looks away. “I must admit, wife, your power is quite impressive. Quite impressive. Doesn’t impress me, but explains what they were raising you for.”
He knows too much about me, and yet, I’m not sure what he’s referring to. “Really? Enlighten me.”
There’s still a smug smile on his face, but it softens as he looks at me, speaking slowly. “With your powers, you could bring my brother to his knees. You could make him your slave. It would be a beautiful thing to see, except for the part where he would get access to my mind. Now, I can’t have that, can I?”
Right. Marlak’s insane. “Wow, you concocted quite a story. What do you think the Crystal Court king would do with a human wife?”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” He shrugs. “Rape her. I doubt he’d do it gently.”
“You’re obsessed with that word.”
“Shouldn’t I be? I don’t see why you are not concerned.”
This talk makes me uncomfortable. “I’m not… I’m not the one they’d send for a wedding like that. And to wed the Crystal Court king… they might send the princess herself. It’s a dream alliance.” Maybe not, if I recall what I overheard, but there was no guarantee Otavio would succeed.
“An alliance that was carefully planned. Fair, maybe they’ll send the princess. And they might send her maids with her. Same problem.”
I’m rattled by how much he knows about me, and yet I don’t want to ask how he learned it and reveal that he’s right, in case he’s bluffing. Also, I still don’t think King Renel was the alliance Otavio and Andrezza meant. “The odds that your brother will want to marry Princess Driziely are zero.”
“Then you’re not paying attention. The Krastel King has spread far and wide the myth that his daughter is the most beautiful woman in the world, the most enchanting, that men who catch a mere glimpse of her go wild with desire.”
“That’s nonsense.”
“Obviously.” He gestures towards me. “I’m here looking at you and know that it’s a ridiculous farce.”
Wow, thanks! I mean, not that I think me and the other substitutes can drive anyone mad with desire, but the way he says it… I keep my face flat, though.
He continues, “You know why your king is doing it? To make her a coveted prize. The man who marries her will attain a symbol of power, a symbol of prestige. Yes, my brother would eat that up.”
“Because you obviously think he’s stupid.”
“Not at all.” His forehead has a slight frown. “He’s brilliant. And he knows that symbols matter.”
None of this makes sense. “He can have a beautiful fae wife.”
“He can have hundreds of fae lovers. That’s a different issue. He won’t pass up this opportunity.”
I roll my eyes. “I guess you have it all figured out, then.”
“Oh, I do.” I can see the scheming, the evil in his words, his poorly contained anger. “It’s about predicting your opponent’s moves. I won’t lie.” He leans forward, his face close to me. “There is a satisfaction in owning something that would be his.”
As if he didn’t have a whole bunch of stuff stolen from his brother. “I’m not a thing.”
“For him, you’d be.” He’s still close, his smell fresh and citrusy.
Perhaps this is not the best time to realize I haven’t even bathed before coming, so I stick to the topic, and I’m honest. “And I wouldn’t be the one sent to marry him, if that ever came to pass.”
“Well, that’s not a risk I’m willing to take. Happy now? That you know why I married you? So you won’t be wondering if I’m planning to feed you to the fish.”
His logic is based on some bold assumptions, but I understand that he doesn’t want me spilling his secrets, which means… It hits me then, and I meet his eyes. “You’ll keep me as a prisoner.”
“Right. Such a pity, you were so free before that. And prisoner, wife, is that really different?”
“A wife can come and go as she pleases.”
“Not all of them, no.” He points a finger at me. “That said, at least you won’t be—”
“Raped. I know. Can you stop?”
“I was going to say mistreated, but it’s true that your point is a lot more valid. And I’ll protect you.”
Still, this is a punishment, but I can’t be the only one who’s unhappy. I smile at him. “Congratulations. You just married a measly…” I was going to say substitute, but I don’t want to reveal that. What should I say? Maid? Attendant? “Guard.”
“You are the legitimate Crystal Court Queen.”
Am I supposed to laugh? Maybe not. “I meant before.”
He smirks. “You were the future legitimate Crystal Court Queen.”
“Of course. I suppose this was written in the stars.” My voice is full of sarcasm, but then I recall the threads of destiny. No, whatever this is, it has nothing to do with my visions, with my kindred soul.
“Things are only written once we write them. Then there’s no choice but to accept what is.” His voice is slow, solemn, perhaps pained?
I don’t suppose he’s trying to evoke pity, is he? He who has committed horrific atrocities, such as… “Did you attack Lord Stratson’s estate?” I blurt.
He looks at me and frowns. “I don’t keep track of human lords, and much less attack them.”
It sounds convincing, but it could be a lie. Wait a minute. Can he even lie? He looks human but he’s a full-blooded fae.
I know the question is stupid, but it leaves my mouth before I call it back. “Can you lie?”
“That’s a question without a satisfactory answer, wife.” His mocking tone is back.
“You could say yes. That would be an answer.”
“Well, my answer’s no.”
He stares at me with a mocking smirk, knowing I don’t have an answer to my question, then extends his arms on the back of the seat behind him. My heart flutters for a moment, as I’m reminded of my dreams, when I’m nested in the space between his arm and his chest, enveloped in a wonderful feeling of love and safety.
Not his arms. It’s not the same person. I need to remember that, so those visions don’t muddle my mind.
Marlak’s observing me, eyes narrowed, visibly displeased with something. I notice that his eyes look like they have a thin layer of black ink, but it’s not ink. It’s his dark, thick eyelashes that give that impression. For some reason they look beautiful and menacing at the same time. And I shouldn’t be noticing his eyes.
“Wife,” he says slowly. “You will be free—within certain constraints, of course.” Like being a prisoner. I know. He continues, “And I’ll do my best to provide and protect you, but do not play with me. Do not mock me. Are your powers impressive? Absolutely. Do they affect me? Not at all. So don’t waste them.”
Powers? Oh, right. He thinks I’m some kind of seductress. I try to imagine myself in a dress with a low cut, and it just looks ridiculous. Then again, that strategy doesn’t work for everyone. What would work for Marlak? Probably nothing. Covering myself in treasure, maybe, as if he didn’t have more than enough.
“I don’t have any powers.”
“I know you don’t. Not any that will affect me, at least, and I’d really rather you didn’t make a fool of yourself.” He leans over again, and the only reason his face is not close to me anymore is because I lean as far back as I can, even if it’s a position that conveys fear. I don’t care.
“Understand, Astra.” His voice is slow and careful. “I don’t think you’re alluring, I don’t think you’re charming, I don’t think you’re attractive. Your pathetic attempts at seducing me are laughable. Your crude attempts at trying to elicit a physical response are not only pitiful, they’re vulgar and tasteless. I suggest you stop them.”
Great. Now I’m feeling angry and humiliated, and it’s so hard to hold back my tears when I’m feeling like that. My only chance to keep them in check is by fighting back, even if nothing comes to mind but immature words.
“Oh, look who’s talking. One would think you’re prince charming. You’re overcooked, husband.” I can also make a mockery of that. “They forgot to turn you on the spit.”
He laughs. “Oh, wife, you’re so creative with your insults. You must think I don’t have a mirror, but I do. I know very well that I’m ugly, disfigured, scarred.” Those words are utterly ridiculous, but I’m not going to tell him that.
He leans forward even more. “I know very well that I’m repulsive. I know what I am. I know what I look like. What you don’t know is that I can be a monster both on the outside and on the inside.”
For a second, I don’t have a reply. I don’t know what to say. Angry tears are threatening to burst through, but I won’t let them. I won’t let them.
“Oh, look at him. So manly and so threatening. Are you trying to compensate for something? Is it your itsy-bitsy weenie?” I know. I know I’m arguing like a ten-year-old, but it’s either that or crying, and I’m not going to let him see me cry.
He leans back and laughs. “But you know exactly how tiny it is, don’t you? You pretended to like it just enough.”
Oh. He means… Oh. I can still recall holding it. No, no, no. It was a dream. My dream—and I have to erase it from my mind.
Keeping my face blank and even a little surprised, I say, “You’re insane.”
“Yes. I’m the one who’s insane. I’m the one who plants dreams in other people’s heads.”
“You have your ring.” I glance at his hand, but don’t spot the Shadow Ring. “Usually. No magic can reach you. If that magic even existed. You’re making excuses for your depraved fantasies.”
He nods. “I’m glad you’re aware they’re depraved. And I don’t think you understand how the Shadow Ring works.”
“Perhaps you’d like to enlighten me?”
“Maybe. Once you stop it, Astra. Stop trying. It’s useless and bothersome.” His voice is sharp like a dagger, while his black eyes hide a storm behind them.
“You’re delusional. Who in their right mind would want to seduce you?”
“Nobody. We both know that.” He raises an eyebrow and smirks.
I don’t know what he’s smirking at, frankly, and yet there’s a harshness in his eyes… I look down. He’s pretty much telling me to stop the visions and dreams, but how am I going to stop something I can’t control? Can I confess I can’t control them? I don’t even know if he’d believe me.
“There’s something else,” he says.
Bracing myself for another round of humiliation, I stare at him. “Yes?”
“They’ll try to hurt you to hurt me.”
“I see. I’m your shield now.”
“No. You’re my weakness. Or at least it’s how they’ll see it. It’s why you need to be hidden.”
I scoff. “Just say I’m your prisoner.”
“You know you are.” He throws his hands up. “But you’ll need to be careful, wife. You’ll be a target. For what it’s worth, I’m truly sorry for that.” He manages to say that softly.
Not softly like in the dreams, thankfully, but he still sounds kind, as if he hadn’t just called me a pathetic, unattractive, failed seductress.
“Yes. Poor you. So sorry.”
He shrugs. “Well, if you can’t handle the game, don’t play it.”
“I heard a different one. Don’t play with fire if you don’t want to get burned.” I narrow my eyes. “But I guess you know that already.”
His smile doesn’t leave him, but he turns and looks out the window. I’m partly relieved to be spared of his digs, partly worried that perhaps I pushed him too far.
Pointless tears are still threatening to leave my eyes. Part of me is furious at myself, in disbelief at the ridiculous, immature words I uttered. Part of me is furious at him, thinking he deserved every cruel insult.
At least both parts agree that none of this bodes well.
I dare look out the window, don’t see Mount Eye in front of us, and assume we’re going south. But where? There are fields around us, a fresh smell of leaves—and something citrusy as well. That’s his smell, I realize, and I have to control my head not to turn to him.
He’s been silent for a long time, and I fear that if I break that silence, he’ll surround me in a block of ice until we get to our destination. It does feel like there’s ice around me, ice between us, so maybe there is some magic at work, something dreadful that chills my insides.
But then, this is what my life’s going to be. The fae prince didn’t wed me so we could become friends and have a lovely time together. I’m his prisoner, paying for what I’ve done, paying for the danger he thinks I could pose. None of it was my fault, but he doesn’t know it, and I sure hope he never finds out.
When I look back at our interaction, I definitely want to disappear—again. Congratulations, Astra! Truly impressive. I mean, maybe I’m not an expert in seduction, but even a nitwit knows that telling someone he’s half-cooked is not the way into their heart. And while I have no intention of enchanting him, pissing him off is a terrible survival strategy.
How do I fix what I’ve done? If I’m too compliant, he’ll be suspicious—or worse, he’ll think I’m trying to seduce him. If I keep defying him, I’ll just aggravate him to a point of no return—assuming we haven’t reached it yet. Haha. I mean, I have to be optimistic here, right? My best bet is to wait for him to calm down, observe him, then start over and find a way to gain his trust.
I try not to look at him as he runs a ringed hand through his black curls. Duh. I guess I just did, but I look away and swallow. He’s so ridiculously good looking. I know, I know. It’s not what I thought before. He’s like the kind of food that tastes strange the first time you try it, but then, after a while, you realize you like it and even crave it. I’m not saying I like him, obviously, much less that I crave him. I mean the way he looks.
He might be able to lie, if he stared at me in the face and claimed he was ugly and owns a mirror. Only one of those statements can be true. I glance at him again, notice his eyes on me, and look away quickly. Oh, no. He’s going to think I’m playing games, and I’m not. I hope my tan is saving me and hiding the warmth on my cheeks.
What I do know is that my mind will explode if I keep second guessing and trying to control my face, my body, my expressions, my thoughts.
“Astra.” There’s no anger or irritation in his voice and it surprises me—or perhaps scares me. I turn to him, and he sighs. “I’m sorry. I mean, I don’t think I removed you from a decent life, but you obviously hold a different opinion. This won’t be forever.” He’s gentle again. Oh, he loves to make me confused. “Once my brother’s defeated, we’ll annul the marriage, and you’ll be free to do whatever you wish. I have no intention to keep you forever.”
His words sting, and I’m not sure if it’s because he used the verb keep, as if I was an animal, or if I’m smart enough to see the well-concealed reminder that he loathes me. I chuckle. “Cause I’m obviously pathetic and despicable.”
“I didn’t say that.” He throws his hands in the air. “Wife. By the gods. I’m trying to comfort you. I already said I won’t touch you. You should have seen yourself; you were pale. I mean, I should be offended, but I wasn’t. Now I’m saying I’ll set you free, and you’re upset?” He takes a deep breath and covers his face with his hands.
“You’re reminding me I’m your prisoner.” There’s no bite in my words. I’m tired of fighting and dreading going too far again. “And you know you might never defeat your brother.”
“I will. I’ll defeat him.” There’s no hesitation in his voice, and it’s not like a wish, but as if he was stating something obvious. “If it takes long, I don’t know…” He runs a hand over his curls, then stares at me. “After seven years, we can try to find another solution. It’s a promise. So don’t despair.”
