“Walk with me,” Arion says.
He offers his arm, and I accept it because not taking it would send a much louder message. He escorts me from the room and then guides me to a smaller study close by.
“Thank you for coming, my lovely bride,” he says gently.
The corridors are quiet. The smell of soap and resin still hangs in the air where that of blood should. They’ve cleaned overnight.
This study is paneled in dark wood, the fire low. There are no guards, or better yet, no witnesses. He closes the door, unthreads our arms, and crosses the floor to pour crimson wine into two crystal cups.
“I would be the first to congratulate you on your poise today,” he says. “The night I met you, you were so forward. Sodemanding. It is truly something lovely to see how much you’ve molded yourself to please me. Do not think I do not appreciate it.”
I watch him carefully. He seems more unguarded than at any of the other times we have spoken together. There are a lot of responses on my tongue—some are sharper and more pointed than others—but I decide against each of them.
Acceptance will be my goal from today forward.
“I am glad to please you, my king.” Blood roars in my ears.
“There is something truly beautiful about a woman who learns to submit. It is what you were always intended to do. And to observe it happening while the court watched you nearly took my breath away.” He passes me a cup, smile sparkling. He looks younger, lighter. “Do you know what they saw today?”
“Your Majesty?” I ask, not sure exactly where he is going with this.
His mouth tilts. “They saw what I am capable of. You have been beautifully prepared, we have powerful allies, and we won against the opposition last night. You might say you are my good luck charm.”
He places the goblet on the desk, and then reaches toward an ornate chest. He presses against several seals with his long, pointed fingers, and they begin to unlock, opening for him.
“I wanted to show you something before we are wed.”
I stand utterly still as the clicks and creaks stop, only for the doors to swing wide and reveal a glowing blue orb.
“This is the tracker you brought to me,” he starts. “It shows me that theCumhacht na Cruinneis still with my sister… and that my sister has been under the mountain with your trolls.”
I blink.
He smiles. “My father once promised me, when I was young, that he would find the artifact for me and I would usher in a new era. Then my sister killed him, took his magic, and I have been fighting for my right to power ever since.”
He closes the case.
Where is he going with this?
“You have witnessed the magic that can eviscerate our enemies.” He turns back to me, smiles, then picks up his goblet and takes a drink. I follow suit. I don’t know what to say, but when Arion watches the crystal press to my lips, he looks hungry. His eyes drink me in. “Did you think I wouldn’t realize when your troll friend had arrived? That he came here, to the palace, last night?”
My skin goes cold all over. “What are you talking about?”
“Do not lie to me, Arlet,” he says sharply.
My skin flushes red. Last night, I felt so much fear and longing, and now the numbness returns.
“Did you see him?”
Lie, woman. Lie.
“No.”
“I could have you killed,” he starts.
No, he cannot, Cursed One answers.
Why not?
