“I’m serious, Lindy. We were horrible to you. We were all angry at Father for remarrying, and Pierre and Jacques were still broken over losing their mother, and I let things get out of hand. I told myself that the rumors were true, that you were looking for a kingdom after having been edged out of your own and that you must have either seduced Father or else put some sort of spell on him to make him marry you.”
“Again, I applaud your creativity.”
Corbin’s shoulders slumped. “It made me angry when you put up with all of Jacques’ pranks. Nothing we did or said could ever get to you. You were always poisedand beautiful and untouchable, and I convinced myself that you were just biding your time, plotting all of our downfall. Then Father died, and I took out all of my grief and anger on you. I never stopped to consider the fact that maybe you put up with all of our torment because it was better than whatever you left behind, or that you were untouchable not out of superiority, but because you had become that way to survive.”
Lindy blinked furiously, willing her tears not to fall. For once, she was left without a biting comeback.
“It wasn’t until your giant pointed things out that I started actually watching and listening, and it made me reconsider a lot of the preconceived notions I held about you. I’m sorry.”
He reached for her hand, and Lindy sucked in a sharp hiss of pain as his fingers brushed the infected blisters. He grabbed her wrist instead, holding it up so that he could see the injuries in the dim light. “Lindy…” Corbin’s whisper was hoarse and broken.
She gently pulled her arm from his grasp and set it back down in her lap, willing the throbbing, pulsing agony to cease. “It’s fine. The curse is broken, isn’t it? You can finally kiss Elise without worrying about beak breath.”
He blew out a long exhale. “She gave me quite the lecture that day.”
Lindy raised a brow. “Ellie did? You must have made her really angry, then.”
“I did. She had similar words as your giant did, though she wasn’t quite as harsh as Atlas in wishing for my continued swanhood. But she did say that shewouldn’t agree to marry me until I could own up to my part and admit that I had been wrong about you.”
The wounds in her heart that had only started beginning to heal cracked open again. “Ah. So this is the pre-marriage proposal apology.”
He shook his head. “No. This is the apology that I’ve been wanting to make since I saw the first blisters on your hands and realized just how far you were willing to go to save us, even when, at that time, there was no benefit in sight for you. Even when you likely believed with your whole heart—and with good reason—that I would be throwing you into this dungeon the moment I was freed, you still kept going. Even when Atlas offered you a way out, you kept sacrificing. For us.”
“Well, the dungeon part did turn out to be true,” she pointed out wryly.
“Yes, but not through any doing of mine.” Corbin leaned back. “Even after hearing from all seven of us, Haldrick still has a majority of the court convinced that you must have messed with our minds. That you transformed us back only after compelling us to do your bidding.”
“He’s even more creative than you are.” Lindy rolled her eyes. “So it’s the stake for me, I’m guessing?”
“I don’t think Atlas would leave a stone of the city—much less castle—standing if we were to allow that to happen.”
Her heart ached with longing at the mention of his name, but she stubbornly pushed the feelings to the side. “I don’t think he’ll actually do that. He’s too kind. Besides, I would have guessed he would have been here bynow if he actually cared.” She shifted. “I think your castle will be safe.”
“Lindy.” There was enough authority in Corbin’s voice to make her instinctively look at him. “I’m not going to let them kill you.”
She shrugged, accepting her defeat. “Maybe it’s not entirely bad if they do. At least once I’m gone, Haldrick won’t be able to claim that I’m manipulating your mind any more. I’ve been offered up as a political sacrifice before. This time will just involve actual fire.”
He stilled, frozen for a moment before asking slowly, “Do you trust me?”
Lindy hesitated, remembering all of the times that he had been at the helm of her torment, but then recalled the flowers, the bear, and all the small ways he had started showing his acceptance and support. Her answer tumbled from her lips, surprising her with its honesty.
“Yes.”
Atlas
The axe head cut through the wood with a splintering crack, and Atlas paused just long enough to turn the log and line it up for another strike before swinging the axe up and over his shoulder again with enough aggression to send the split pieces flying as the blade sank deep into the stump of wood he used as a chopping block.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve and glared at the pile of wood still needing to be split. Hisextended absence had put him ridiculously behind on his chores—a fact that wouldn’t needle so much if not for the fact that the reason he was behind was still at the bottom of the mountain, apparently without a thought of him on her mind.
He had waited, as she asked.
Waited until night fell, and then through a second day.
Waited until both he and Phoebe had become so restless that they carved a path back and forth along the shore as they paced.
Waited until he was forced to come to the conclusion that perhaps Lindy had realized that she did want to be a queen after all, and that she wasn’t coming back.
He couldn’t blame her—she was quite literally born for it. She was meant to command a room, to grace a throne with her beauty and wit.
