Why am I not?
A smile twists across her lips as her brow tilts up in amusement. “Pretend I’m any other girl. What would you be doing to get into my bed?”
I take a deep breath, then gesture vaguely before letting my hand fall. “Just existing, mostly.” The truth of that grounds me. Even with all this shit, sheisjust another pretty girl. I can handle this.
The smallest laugh huffs out of her nose. “You think so highly of yourself?”
“Not really. But here you are, trying to getmeto try to getyouinto bed.”
“I’m trying”—she pinches my shoulder, making me flinch—“to get you to stop being so miserable. This is your life. You might as well enjoy what you can.”
I sigh. “Fine. Twist my arm. I’ll try to enjoy fucking you. I don’t know how I’ll manage it. But maybe it’ll be good enough to—stop that!” I laugh as she repeatedly smacks my shoulder, holding up my hands to defend myself.
“That is not”—smack—“appropriate language”—smack—“for speaking to”—smack—“a lady!”
“Is hitting me appropriate?”
She stops, and despite glaring at me, her mouth curls into a smile. “It is not. But on a serious note, I am going to arrange for some time to teach you proper etiquette.”
“Wonderful. History and etiquette lessons.” I shove my hands in my pockets as I watch the hummingbird flitter away.Lucky bastard.
Owena frowns, then gathers her skirt as she sits on the grass. “History won’t do you any good. Our lives are basically for show.”
I join her, stretching my legs out on the ridiculously soft turf. “My mother said I couldn’t learn any magic until after history.”
She gives me a pitying look. “She’ll never let you learn magic.”
“What? Why would you say that?”
“You’re the perfect puppet as you are. Trapped in a world you don’t understand, completely reliant on her. Learning to shape would give you power.”
Damn.Owena sure doesn’t beat around the bush. But she’s probably right—Mother was always at her kindest when I made her feel needed.
Wait…
“To shape?” I ask.
“That’s what we call the magic that manipulates the elements.”
Fae incanting, then?I shake my head. “But you can shape, can’t you? If that was enough for me to leave, what’s keeping you here? You don’t want this marriage, either.”
Owena’s eyes dart away. “I actually can’t shape very well—my family’s talents lie elsewhere. My father has other methods of ensuring I do as he wishes.”
“What do you mean?”
A smirk tugs at her lips as she fiddles with a blade of grass. “I can’t go revealing all our secrets to you just yet.”
I cock my head. “We’re getting married. Shouldn’t we try to be friends?”
“There’s a difference between being friends and being stupid. Knowledge is power. I have little enough as it is.”
That hits. Knowledge is what shattered my world. The meager amount Owena’s shared will already help against whatever other surprises my mother has waiting for me.
But I need to get her on my side. To reveal everything she knows. To trust me—then maybe we can find a way out of this together.
“How about a deal?” I ask, and Owena raises an eyebrow. “If I can get you to kiss me before the wedding, you’ll tell me about your family’s magic.”
The one thing I’ve never failed at is getting kissed, and nothing builds trust like locking lips and spilling secrets. But my chest tightens uncomfortably at the thought. I take a deep breath, trying to force the feeling away, but it lingers.
