He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from pointing out that the halls of Palace Falwood might be a good deallesslonely if she hadn’t killed everyone who used to live there.
“Of course. Of course,” he murmured instead, trying to soothe the dangerous creature before him. “You know I never wander far, though. Sometimes a man just needs to stretch his legs. Or hunt for something pretty to make his wife smile.” He waved the necklace at her again. “Might I put it on you?”
A hesitant smile finally curved Mariana’s lips, dimpling her right cheek. “Very well.” Setting aside her candle, she turned her back to him and brushed her long, ebony hair over her shoulder, pulling it out of the way.
Edmund immediately tucked the vials inside the interior pocket of his doublet and busied himself with adorning the witch with yet more of his mother’s beloved jewels. At least this necklace had been one of her least favorites—a pearl and ruby choker his father had once gifted her.
Before he suddenly died under mysterious circumstances.
He had always wondered if his mother had slipped one of the green vials into old King Warwick’s evening vodka. He had never asked her, though.
Sometimes, one was just better off not knowing.
Mariana broke the growing silence between them first. “You have seen those dreadful pamphlets littering our courtyard, I presume?” Disdain laced her tone.
“No.” The word snapped from his lips, far sharper than he had intended. He winced. It was best for him to keep this creature in a good mood. Happy, even. Even though she had turned his courtyard into a crypt. “No, darling, I avoid the courtyard.Remember?”
“It is probably for the best,” she mused aloud. “They would just upset you.”
Curiosity gnawed at him, leaving him wanting to press for more details.
But did it truly matter? Did anything matter anymore?
He finished clasping the necklace around Mariana’s throat, careful not to brush her bare skin with his fingertips. He hated having to touch her. To kiss her. To play these games.
The sooner he found an opportunity to use one of the vials, the better. He could get his mother out of here. They could escape into the wilds of Drakmor and rally the great lords, retake the palace, and—
“Do you love me, Edmund?” Mariana abruptly whispered, snapping his attention back to the present and stopping his heart cold.
“Of course, darling.” The lie came easily to his lips these days. “You are my sun, my moon, my stars. My entire world.” His throat thickened. His teeth clenched. Softer still, he reminded her, “Do not forget that I have given you everything, dear heart: my throne, my armies, my kingdom, my mother.”
Slowly, the witch turned to face him. By the light of the candle, he saw that her golden eyes now shimmered with tears. “And yet the Lady whispers to me, Edmund. She warns me that your heart is false, that you mean me harm.” Her left hand fell to the plane of her stomach, flat beneath the folds of her crimson robe. “That you mean our daughter harm.”
What denials were already smoldering on his tongue, waiting to be loosed, dissipated like smoke. “Our daughter?” he echoed, nearly choking on the words. A disbelieving laugh escaped him before he could stop it.
Mariana frowned, her eyes narrowing once more.
Edmund’s laughter died in his throat. His gaze searched hers. “Surely, you are teasing me, my love.” He could only pray that she was.
But the witch he had taken for a wife did not laugh. She did not smile. She merely arched a single eyebrow, clearly challenging him. “Why would I tease you about this?” She took a step closer; he fought hard to keep from retreating. “Our daughter stands to one day be the most powerful woman in all of Avirel—a woman who can unite all kingdoms into one. She will have claims to the throne of Drakmor, the throne of Arath, even the throne of Elmoria once we finish our conquest.”
Mariana’s eyes gleamed in the candlelight, as if she were feverish. “And then Kuni and Lothmeer, too,” she added in an almost dreamy whisper. “Perhaps even the city-states of Fortuna if she is truly bold. Which she is bound to be, being our daughter.” She spoke the words as if they were a dark prophecy—a nightmare for future generations.
Edmund’s thoughts raced, trying to make sense of what this madwoman was saying, trying to calculate justhowany of this could be possible. Mariana with child.Hischild.
Shewashis wife, of course. In every sense of the word.
But…so soon?
Mariana’s frown deepened. “You do not look happy, Edmund,” she whispered, her breath audibly catching in her throat. He could only stare as a single tear streaked down her cheek. “The Lady warned me you would not be. Even though this is all according to Her plan. Even though I have done everything She has asked, still it is not enough to have whatIwant—”
Edmund closed the distance between them in the next heartbeat, his stomach roiling as he swept the witch up into his arms. “Hush now.” His lips pressed a kiss to her brow, seeking to buy himself time while his mind still reeled.
What if she wasn’t simply mad? What if she was right? What if shewas…pregnant?
A daughter.Hisdaughter.
He couldn’t possibly use the green vial. Not now.
