“That’s enough for today,” she says, venom in every word. “We can’t risk further enfeebling your human mind with undue strain.”
The shock hits like a splash of ice water, and for a moment I simply stare at her, not sure how to respond.
“Direct eye contact is reserved for equals or challengers. Do not make the mistake of thinking you are capable of being either to me,” she hisses, stalking out of the room before I can respond.
The duke is entirely nonplussed by the exchange, casually gathering his lecture materials without paying me any mind.
It’s all I can do to keep my composure until I get to the end of the stairs, hot tears falling down my face long before I make it to my private quarters.
How am I going to do this? There’s so much to learn, so many things I don’t understand, and any mistake makes not only me, but also Xandril and the reach as a whole look foolish. His challenges are great enough without my presence adding difficulty. There’s no way I’ll ever know enough to satisfy the throne.
You don’t have to, a small voice reminds me. Because of course I don’t have to. I’ll be gone the moment spring arrives, and none of this will matter any more.
It’s not the comfort it once was. The thought of leaving now, abandoning Xandril to do this alone, never feeling Brightstar’s velvet muzzle against my palm or being able to witness Crownwood through all the seasons…it’s theoppositeof comfort. There’s an ache in my chest that I can’t explain when I think about leaving it all. Even Morwen, for all her mercurial moods, has begun to feel like a part of what makes this place home-worthy.
The tears seem like they’ll never stop, and a knock on my door has me furiously swiping at my face, trying to sniffle quietly enough to avoid arousing suspicion.
“Your Highness,” Morwen calls through the door when I don’t answer right away. “The king has requested your company at supper this evening.”
My stomach twists in on itself. The thought of food alone is enough to make me want to lose its contents, but the added horror of facing the king after the disastrous lesson this afternoon is far too much to face. I’ve no doubt my tutors filled him in on all of my inadequacies and howfeeblemy human mind is. I’m in no mood to defend myself or my kind.
“Please deliver my regrets that I’ll be unable to attend,” I call back, fresh tears welling up when I remember Marchioness Drevane’s ‘A ruler does not plead for their subjects’ obedience,’ admonition.
“I…Your Highness?” Morwen calls back. It’s highly unusual for me to carry on a conversation through the door like this, and even more unusual that I would deny the king an audience. After the calamitous day I’ve had, though, there’s no will in me to explain or soften my tone.
“I saidno, Morwen. That will be all,” I snap, those words echoing through the room as her answering silence stretches on and on.
Eventually, I realize she’s gone, and I’m left alone again, feeling sorry for myself with no need to muffle my sobs.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Xandril
Morwen delivers the news with a look like she’s braced for a blow. Yet another reason to despise my predecessor.
“What do you mean, ‘she refuses’?” I ask, pushing my seat back from the table. I spent the better part of the day arranging this dinner, worried about getting everything just right, and now sherefuses?
What makes her think that’s an option? She’s my bride. My queen-to-be. She can’trefuseto see me! Well…shecan, but why would she? The last we spoke was in her quarters, her soft lips pressed to my warm cheek after thanking me for sharing a part of myself with her—has she so quickly come to regret that?
“My apologies, Your Highness. She said, ‘no.’”
“No?!” I roar loud enough for the chandeliers to rattle above. “Why? What reason did she give?”
“I have no explanation to offer, Your Majesty,” Morwen says, infuriatingly tight-lipped.
But of course she’s grown more loyal to Ingrid than me. I have no one to blame for that other than myself. I haven’t been a good leader. I haven’t been present or decisive. That changes now.
Jumping to my feet, towering over Morwen at my full height, I fight to keep my heat from scorching the ground underfoot. “Where is she?” I demand.
Morwen shakes her head, and for the first time ever, I think I see a hint of true fear in her expression. “I don’t know.”
She flinches when another roar echoes through the room, steam following in my trail as I storm out in search of my bride. Everyone’s so convinced that she’s the solution to the reach’s problems, that I have no hope of success without her at my side. If that’s the case, then courting her properly must become a priority.
The idea is preposterous if I’m honest with myself. I’ma soldier. Nothing more than a weapon honed for war, trained to break, destroy, and kill. I’m hardly a step up from the Wilds-touched beasts that nip at our frozen borders, not a creature made for romance or tenderness.
I don’t know the first thing about how to treat a female, let alone a human female. What if I hurt her? Scare her? Maim or break her?
I’d never forgive myself.
