I step up to him, so close I have to crane my head to meet his eyes. “You men are all the same. You think women are only useful for fucking and cleaning up after your messes. And if we won’t do what you say, then you beat us into submission. Like you’re so tough for intimidating and abusing someone half your size.” I attempt to storm past him in a most theatrical way, but he grabs my arm, stalling my escape.
“I don’t abuse women.”
“No, you just throw them on the ground and press yourself against them without their permission.” The fact that I kind of enjoyed it doesn’t make the statement any less true. Does it?
He opens his mouth, but no words come out.
“Now, if you don’t mind.” I wrench my arm from his grip. “I have a dress I need to hide.” And this time, I make that dramatic exit, and I’ve got to admit, it feels pretty good.
The next morning, I wait in my room for Leodin to arrive, all my bluster from the night before extinguished with the first rays of sunlight slanting through my window. I am quite honestlyterrified. Over the years, I learned how to manage Leodin, for the most part, though, admittedly, my pride gets in the way sometimes. Don’t speak unless spoken to, and then only give the answer he wants. Never complain. Never disagree. And if he chooses to dole out punishment, do not cry or beg because it won’t change a damn thing.
But this is completely out of my control. Gods, I never should have agreed to come with him.
A knock on my door startles me, and I leap to my feet. “H-hello?” I call out, trembling hands clasped against my chest.
“Open the door, Katya.” It’s Leodin. Of course, it’s Leodin. I start across the room. My legs are so weak I’m not sure how I remain upright, and my stomach feels like I swallowed a lead brick, but I make it. In some ways, this is the worst part: the anticipation. When you know you’re about to be beaten, but you have no other choice than to face it.
I open the door.
Leodin’s skin is ashen, and he’s got one hand propped up on the door frame, holding most, if not all, of his weight. His lips tighten for a moment at seeing me, then he lets out a long sigh. “Get your things and let’s go. The queen’s called the meeting early.”
“Did something happen?” I ask.
“No,” he answers, without turning around.
Confusion and relief swirl in my chest. He didn’t even ask me about what happened at the ball. I’d honestly expected him to come looking for me last night as soon as he noticed I was gone. I fell asleep waiting for him. When I woke up alone and unharmed, I figured he probably drank too much and would mete out punishment this morning.
I did not anticipate this. Not that I’m complaining, but what in the world could have happened to make Leodin forget about last night?
12
Prince Troi steps up beside me, a grin splitting his face, and claps his hands. “So, this should be fun.”
“Indeed,” I reply, not bothering to look at him. My eyes are glued to the back entrance where attendees are filing into the throne room. Queen Diane is, of course, waiting in the hallway outside to make her big entrance once the room is filled, but I want to be out here when they arrive—when she arrives. I want—no—I need to see her walk into this room unharmed so this knot of worry in my chest might ease. I don’t know why I’m so intent on protecting this female. She’s no one special—logically, I know this. But there’s just something about her that calls to me. I can’t ignore it. I don’t know how to. Whenever I see her being mistreated, it infuriates me to the point that I feel my control slipping.
And bad things happen when I lose control.
So, when I cornered her stepfather last night, my warning was as much for his protection as hers, because if that man laid so much as a finger on her, I’d fucking kill him.
“Keeping an eye out for your pretty witch?” Troi asks, and I swing my head around in shock.
How could he possibly know that?
He chuckles. “Don’t look so surprised, brother. You’re not nearly as good a performer as you think you are. I doubt anybody else has noticed, but I know you, and you are besotted.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.
“I am not besotted,” I reply through clenched teeth. The last thing I need is for Troi to take an interest in her.
“You are.” He reaches up and pats me on the shoulder. Veda, help me, I want to gouge out his eyes and use his head as a Skittles ball. “Don’t worry, though. Your secret is safe with me.”
Not bloody likely.
“There she is now.”
I shift my gaze back to the door where she’s walking in with her father, Duke Berezin limping along behind them. Perhaps fifty lashes were too much, after all. The man hasn’t stopped limping the past two days. It’s possible I burst a few blood vessels. Oh well. At least it’ll be harder for him to chase after unwilling females for a while. Katya, on the other hand, looks perfect—breathtaking even. She’s dressed in a gauzy pink gown that hugs her curves with her mass of black hair pulled away from her face and left to fall in waves down her back. Fuck, she’s beautiful. I rub my chest, as though that might calm my racing heart.
Troi laughs again, harder this time. “Gods, you’re a terrible liar.”
He has no idea what a truly exceptional liar I am. Someday he will, but not today.
