BRIONY
That dreaded word splinters through my mind, its resonance as painful as its ancient meaning.
Vintarys.
Vintarys.
Vintarys.
Iron.
An essential element in a curse I never knew was placed upon me. Not until today. Even after I learned about it…Thorne made me forget. But how? I try to recall what else we spoke of, but all I remember is him explaining my family’s reputation, then taunting that he’d tell a tale of feuding families and curses. The only thing that stands out amidst the void in my memory is the explanation of my curse.
That I’ll be bound by iron if it touches my flesh.
I’m desperate to know what else I’ve forgotten, but the lock on my memories won’t give. So instead, I return to what I do remember. My dance with Thorne in my grove. The strange things he said. I recall what he did before he ordered me to forget our encounter. First, he took off his gloves, and…
Placed his bare finger under my chin.
He…touched me.
Vintarys—iron—touched my flesh.
And bound me.
To him.
He wasn’t part of my dream. He was there in person, and it was the first time we’d ever touched, skin to skin. While I don’t fully understand how it’s possible that he’s commanding me, I have no doubt that he is. Much like the outlawed magic of the true name bond, which gives a fae mastery over someone if their subject states the wordsI give you my true name, Thorne now holds full sway over me.
My knees tremble, and the arm that holds the blade to my father’s throat begins to burn from maintaining the position. I try to pour all my will into lowering the hand, fighting the command Thorne gave me, but my limb won’t obey.
A strangled wail comes from behind me. It’s my mother. “No,” she cries. “No, this can’t be. After everything we’ve done to protect her.”
My father bares his sharp teeth. “I ask again, son of Morgana, what do you want?”
Thorne takes a slow step closer and lowers his voice. “I want you to know that you haven’t won. I want you to look into your beloved daughter’s eyes and see that she is now my weapon.”
Father slides his dark beady eyes to mine. His expression shifts, no longer hidden behind his mask of calm confidence, and the result feels like an iron spear to my heart. Where I’ve glimpsed so much kindness tonight, so much humble pride, I now see fear. Terror. Repulsion.
Ofme.
“I want the queen to do the same,” Thorne says, and there’s a note like sorrow in his voice. I can only imagine it’s in mockery of the true grief that grips me now. “Princess, keep the knife in place, but turn to the side and let your mother see your face.”
Everything inside me rebels, but my body obeys in jittery motions. As soon as my eyes meet my mother’s, the blood leaves my face. She recoils from me, stepping back toward her sister’s chair. Aunt Cecily pulls her close in a protective gesture, stepping slightly in front of my mother.
A sob pours out of me. I shake my head, pleading with her. Begging her to understand. “I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to be his tool.”
Mother says nothing, only stares at me with wide, terrified eyes. I’d give anything to wipe that look away. I’d marry Monty Phillips in a snap of my fingers with no complaints, no hesitation, no resentment, if only it would bring her indulgent smile back.
If only it would rid the sickening feeling writhing inside me now.
Father’s voice draws my attention back to him. “What’s your next move, boy?”
Thorne holds my father’s gaze with narrowed eyes. “Now I’m going to leave this room, and you will let me. No one in the palace will attempt to stop me. Do you agree? Swear it, on behalf of everyone in this palace.”
Father’s jaw shifts side to side, his long fingers curling into fists. Then, with a grunt, he relents. “I swear it. On behalf of everyone in Nocturnus Palace at this time, no one will stop you from leaving. But that doesn’t mean we won’t come for you at once.”
Thorne gives him a crooked grin. “I count on it.”
