“Yes.”
Evelyn gasped at the sudden pain in her leg, like a dart hit the back of her thigh.
At least that tattoo can stay hidden.
“Do you think we should practice?” Haydn asked.
“Practice what?”
“I wish…”
Magic that wasn’t her own rose through Evelyn’s body. It forced her head up so she had no choice but to look at Haydn. She tried to step back, but she couldn’t move.
The Bargain is making me wait for his command.
Oh gods, this was a mistake.
The gleam in Haydn’s eyes told her that he knew exactly what was happening.
“Release me,” Evelyn growled.
At least I can talk.
Haydn just smiled at her.
“Let me go or tell me what you want,” she begged.
He whispered in her ear, “You will not speak, write, or otherwise indicate anything negative about me. As far as everyone is concerned, you and I are good friends.”
Tendrils of magic wove into Evelyn’s neck and fingers, locking into place as if Haydn had turned a key. Then the force in her body relaxed, dormant until his next wish.
Maybe he is a devil.
Haydn bowed. “Congratulations on your engagement, Princess. Forgive me for not attending the wedding, but I’ll send a present tomorrow.”
He kissed her cheek, which was how Evelyn learned that ducking out of his reach or slapping him were against the rules. Those actions would be considered indicative of a negative opinion.
Haydn winked—actually fucking winked—at Evelyn before he walked away.
She sank to her knees in the soft grass.
What have I done?
Rory and Simon ran to her, alarmed to see her on the ground.
“Princess! Are you okay?”
Haydn’s magic burned in her neck.
“I’m fine.”
40
Sick
Evelyn could still feel the sticky wetness Haydn had left between her legs.
Gods forgive me before this damned kingdom declares me a queen.
