Page 11 of Ruling the Green

I made my way on numb legs over toward it, seeing a strange version of myself reflected.

It was me, yet not.

I’d seen myself reflected countless times in the still water of my lake—the flowing dark hair, the pale skin, the blue eyes. But there had always been a wildness about me, an otherness that didn’t remind me of the countless women I’d seen stop at my lake to cool their feet, wash their hands, or take greedy gulps of water.

This woman looking back at me resembled them more than my own nature. I looked groomed, neat, and… civilized.

More so than that, I looked like a bride.

Since that was exactly what I was.

The servants came back, chattering to each other as they pinched my cheeks then pulled the veil over my head and face.

There I stood.

A bride.

A ghost.

I wasn’t sure which was more true.

I was led back out to the main room, everything fuzzy through my veil, but I could see the outline of Mr. Grimwood and the two beasts who first presented me to him.

“That will do,” Mr. Grimwood said after circling me. “That will do very well. Just one last thing. Will you lift the veil for a moment?” The women did as they were told. “Open your mouth,” he instructed.

I wouldn’t pretend to understand these fae’s ways. But I did know that I didn’t want whatever he was about to do to me. I pressed my lips into a firm line. “Open your damned mouth!” he snapped, grabbing both my cheeks in such a tight grip that it felt as if the bones of my jaw ground to powder.

There was no stopping the cry that escaped me.

And that was all he needed.

Something was shoved into my mouth.

A floral taste exploded across my tastebuds, but before I could place it, or spit the offending flower out, I felt it.

A numbness moving across my tongue, my cheeks, down my throat.

I couldn’t move my mouth.

Couldn’t make a sound.

Could barely swallow my own spit.

“What is that?” the redhead asked. “Could use it for my missus.”

A thousand objections piled up in my throat but could find no way out. Because these men could not have me showing up to the wedding and telling the prince that I was not the daughter.

But, eventually, this had to wear off, right? What then?

I swallowed hard, trying not to borrow tomorrow’s problems. There was enough to worry about in that moment.

“Well, bring the carriage around. We need to get this over with.”

With a hand bruising my upper arm, I was pulled through the house, outside, and hauled up into a covered carriage.

I could feel the carriage shift as the redhead and Vrad climbed on the back before the carriage started moving.

“Let me be clear,” Mr. Grimwood said as we rocked around through the woods. “If you make a scene, if you try to run away, I will drag you back to your lake, tie you to a tree, and let you and your lake watch each other slowly die.” He paused, letting his words—and the dread behind them—sink in. “How long do you think that would take? Days? Weeks? I think it would be weeks. Slow, agonizing weeks.”