She sipped her wine and seemed to chew on my words. “It’s entirely possible. It’s no secret that he has long desired a union between Oriane and the prince. Those were, after all, his true motives for sending her to live at the castle.”
“He must be overjoyed to have his wishes fulfilled,” I muttered, still puzzling over everything I’d learned. Something niggled at me, but like a mosquito in a dark room, it evaded me. It was just as maddening.
Shortly afterwards, I polished off the remainder of my wine and excused myself. I appreciated Livia’s advice, but I wanted to be alone. I needed to think about what I would say to Tarben. And, more importantly, what I was going to do next.
***
As soon as I returned to my bedchamber, I sent word to Tarben that I needed to speak with him. Then, with bated breath, I waited. And waited.
Given the celebrations that were underway, I knew better than to expect his response to come quickly. With the convictionthat I’d sooner face another one of those monsters in the forest than join the party, I remained in my bedchamber. I evaded sleep by running through what I would say to Tarben when I saw him.
Sometimes, I fantasized about screaming at him for making a fool out of me. Other times, I used my words as a sword, wounding him with precision just as he had wounded me. Most of the time, I imagined him confessing that he’d made a horrible mistake and begging for my forgiveness. In these fancies it was easy to pretend there was no curse and no bargain with a witch. Just two people who might be willing to surrender their hearts. Those were the most dangerous fantasies of all.
His response arrived in the morning over breakfast, in the form of a servant who informed me that, “His Highness will send for you in the afternoon.”
The knots in my stomach worsened as the day went on. It wasn’t only nerves about seeing Tarben or the fear that he would be cruel with his words. Tomorrow was the full moon. I didn’t permit myself to acknowledge what it would likely mean for me. There was still a possibility that he loved me and this was all a misunderstanding. I’d cling to that possibility, however unlikely it was.
To distract myself, I tried reading the grimoire. It was teeming with occult secrets and esoteric knowledge, yet my mind stubbornly refused to be diverted. I took to pacing my chamber, reciting speeches in my head until, at last, I heard a knock on my door.
Looking uncharacteristically vexed, Amalie stormed past me and collapsed on my bed. “If I have to be condescended to about the significance of this wedding one more time, I’ll scream,” was her greeting.
“I take it you’re not thrilled?” I asked, perching next to her.
She rolled her eyes. “Oriane and Tarben? It’s preposterous. My brother is acting like a moon-eyed buffoon. It’s rather unbecoming,” she said tartly.
I stifled a snort. “Have you tried speaking to him?”
“Yes, but there’s no reasoning with him,” she said, pulling at a loose thread on the coverlet. “Aside from the two of them, Father is the only one who seems to be genuinely happy about it.”
“Is the king fond of Lady Oriane?” I asked, keeping my tone nonchalant.
“Not especially.” She sniffed. “I think he’s just relieved that Tarben’s finally settling down. He’s eager for him to start producing heirs.”
I hummed an acknowledgment, grateful that my grandmother had never pressured me with such nonsense. If she had, I would’ve laughed in her face.
“I’d rather hoped that Tarben was going to marry you,” she said. “It would’ve been awfully fun to have you as my sister. Oriane is so vile. And dismissive—she treats me as though I’m nothing more than a petulant child.”
Her words summoned an ache in my chest. I needed to remember that my time with Tarben was only ever meant to be fleeting. A means to an end. Destined to conclude with his broken heart, not mine.
Amalie went on. “The thought of watching him tie himself to her for the rest of his life repulses me. In fact, I think I’ll skip the ceremony entirely.”
“And how are you planning on doing that?” I asked, failing to keep the amusement out of my voice.
“Easily. I sneak past the guards all the time. It’s simple enough, when you know the best hiding spots,” she said with pride.
Before I could respond, there was another knock on my door—a servant. The time had come for me to meet with Tarben.
Leaving the sulking Amalie in my bedchamber, I followedmy escort through the corridors and up the stairs to the royal wing. I never thought that the first time I’d visit Tarben’s quarters would be under these circumstances. I also never thought I’d be tossed aside like an emptied oyster shell, but here we were.
Finally, we stopped in front of a door flanked by guards. My heart pounded out an erratic rhythm as one of the guards knocked. “Miss Alara has arrived.”
“Enter.” It wasn’t Tarben’s voice that called out from behind the door.
At the words, the guards let me pass, but not before I wiped my sweaty palms on my dress. I stepped into a private study which was much like Hugo’s, although the furniture and decor were slightly less coordinated. Another marked difference was that this room included a weapon stand next to the hearth, holding a collection of swords and daggers of various sizes, their ornate hilts all featuring elaborate designs and inlaid with gold or silver.
It certainly appeared as though I was in Tarben’s quarters, yet he was nowhere to be found. Instead, there was a spider waiting at the center of the room.
“Miss Alara,” said Lord Helvig.
