Here, whereverhereis, my mother can’t reach me.
If my destiny must include belonging to a man I don’t know, maybe this isn’t actually the worst option.
Because, no matter what happens here, there is some solace to be found in the knowledge that at least I’ll not be beneath the thumb ofbotha man…and my mother.
Chapter 2
~~~~~~~~~~~~
He’s doneresearch.
“I’m not hungry,” I murmur when the faerie man returns holding a silver platter overflowing with cheeses and meats and fruits. I haven’t moved from this spot on the carpet since he left roughly twenty minutes ago with little more than an overeager smile and anI’ll be back momentarily, my feather.
“Not hungry?” he says, stopping outside my cage door. “You hadn’t yet received any food when I got you, but you claim you were using that man for a free meal. That would either mean you lied to me about the purpose of that despicable being, and I know you didn’t, or you must have—in fact—been hungry.”
“Don’t be so closed-minded. There are, at any point in time, a thousand reasons for any given action. Confining me to two based only on your assumptions is uncouth.”
“Uncouth?” he echoes, looming with the abundant tray. “Shall I return to that grease pit and fetch his head for you? If I’m to be perceived without manners anyway, I can swiftly cast off my restraint and show you the true meaning ofuncouth.”
My flesh turns clammy.
He sneers. “Why does the idea of his murder result in a physical unease from you, my feather?” Dropping himself, he plants the tray on the ground beside him and reaches for me. His hand latches around my throat and drags me to the bars. “You do not want me to kill him? He means more than nothing to you? Explain yourself.”
Heart stampeding, I remember myself. Or, themyselfI must be around irrational, horrible, selfish people. When it comes to slavery, I am not allowed to be smart or negative. I am notallowed to have emotions. I do what is expected of me. Nothing more, nothing less.
If I am told to eat, I eat.
If that results in begging to go to the bathroom or risking needing to go when my warden isn’t around, so be it. At present, he’s yet to make the sorts of demands Rodrick always taunted would befall me just as soon as we were married. At present, I know there are worse fates.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I led him on. I’d feel too responsible for his death if you killed him. I was hungry. Now I’m scared. That’s all.”
“Scared?” Clamped around my throat, his fingers flex, then loosen. He rests back on his calves, murmuring, “Of course you are. Do forgive me. Your emotions are tangled in so much allure I can barely register them. I’ve been homed in on your physical reactions, not your scents.” He plants his palms against his thighs and is silent for several long moments. “Danielle…I’m…” His already broad shoulders square, becoming more imposing. “I have a friend who suggests that it is safe to be vulnerable around the right people. I can’t imagine anyone might be morerightthan you. So, to that end, I offer you my vulnerability: I am…nervous.”
He’s what now?
Nervous?
He’sthe nervous one here?
And, also, he can detect the smallest changes in my body as well asscentmy emotions? That doesn’t bode well for my acting skills. If that’s the case, I can’t get by with anything less than wholly believing I am the character I need to be in order to survive. Survival in such a context is as good as losing myself.Completely.
With that thought, blood rushes from my face, proving it is easier said than done to truly slot myself into the skin of the person I need to be to survive.
My warden swears, and his hands close into fists. “I have distressed you further. This is not going well.” He mutters, “Mayhaps mentioning murder this early in our relationship wasn’t a good move. No, probably not… Fool, control yourself.” He starts to rise, fixing his tone and volume. “Be patient, love. I will fetch more gifts for you. What do you enjoy? Jewels? Gowns? Artwork?” He plants a hand at his chin and paces the marble beyond my cage. “Women…women enjoy…books. Yes. Perfect.”
He’s gone before I can confirm that I do, actually, enjoy books.
Flitting from wherever she’s been playing in the cage behind me, Frelsi whispers, “When he gets back, tell him you also enjoy sweets.”
I frown. “You want sweets?”
“I want sweets.”
My eyes roll, because atleastwith Frelsi I can be my unfiltered self at no risk—even if the blood has yet to return to my head. “You think you deserve sweets with the way you’ve been behaving?”
Aghast, she lays her extra-knuckled, ink-tipped hands across her heart. “Dani. I’m wounded in my emotions.” Her black-and-green eyes narrow. “Not to mention we’ve been over this. It’sneverabout what someonedeserves. Actions-based criteria is outlawed. You get what you want because you want it,notbecause someone decides you deserve it.”
“Are you oblivious to the situation, Frel? I am in a cage, and I can’t shrink my body up like yours. My entire existence is reliant on what that faerie man believes Ideserve.” I toss a hand towardthe ajar door on my right, leading toward dark granite counters. “Even to the extent of when I can go to the bathroom.”
