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Anger and shame became a pit of snakes within my chest and stomach, writhing and strangling. After sleeping for all of half the night, I had to escape my rooms.
The queen’s servant girl had arrived, displeasure crinkling her features when she’d taken the incomplete clothing on the bed and floor. “I’m not feeling well,” I’d said, toneless, and she’d nodded before leaving to inform Sabrina.
I was certain I’d be paid a visit from her majesty before sunset tomorrow if I hadn’t finished, yet I felt no panic at the thought. No sense of urgency. All that remained was the blood king’s scent, his vicious kiss, and that never-ending self-loathing.
Rounding the outermost pathway to the rear of the gardens, I slowed my steps when giggling floated from the northern end. I turned, just slightly enough to make out moving color—pinks and greens and blues—and updos of chestnut and black curls.
The princesses.
I’d yet to meet them, sequestered in my gilded cage as I had been, but I’d heard rumors of their beauty, their cutthroat antics at court, and of their ages.
The twins, Myla and Claudia, were eighteen years of age, and the older sister, Rosabelle, a mere ten months younger than her twenty-three-year-old brother, Bron. Some said Rosabelle was a bastard due to her slightly darker coloring and hair, while others say she was adopted, found on the stoop of the castle.
I didn’t know what to think, and I hadn’t any thoughts one way or another due to not caring about human politics and their rumors.
But as they continued to laugh in the vine-shrouded courtyard atop the gardens, I could feel their stares upon me while I continued my walk. Perhaps they didn’t know I could hear them, or perhaps they knew my hearing was better than their own and did not care.
“Bron intends to care for her,” one of them said.
Another cackled, nearly hollering, “Eldrid wouldn’t hear of it.”
A quiet, firmer voice said, “The faerie princess stands more of a chance at marriage to the idiot than one of his braindead lovers, I’ll tell you that much.”
“Rosabelle,” one of the girls gasped, “she’s a bloody faerie. Don’t be absurd.”
Rosabelle said nothing else as the other twin whispered, “She might be pretty, but her ears are odd, and so is the way they carry themselves, as if they’re water in the midst of freezing.”
“So still,” murmured her sister. “It’s creepy.”
I pricked my finger on a thorn just to glimpse the color of my blood. Dark crimson bubbled, and with my back turned to the princesses, I lifted it to my mouth and sucked. A mistake, immediate and scalding memories flooding my mind—life-changing and too bitter to ever be considered sweet.
“…he’s even said he won’t marry her,” one of the twins was saying now. “Something about not being malleable enough.”
Rosabelle snorted. “Figures.”
Their conversation dwindled to some misfortunate courtiers as they retreated inside the castle, parasols left on the brick and white teacups upon a large metal table, its cream paint flaking.
Eyeing them as I walked past, I considered all they’d said and waited for the anger to arrive. Waited for the upheaval of my stomach at the knowledge I’d been played for a fool yet again.
It never came.
I couldn’t decide if it was because I’d experienced worse or if it was due to the fact I already knew I would never marry the human prince.
All I knew was that I needed to get out more, perhaps befriend a princess or two, if I pla
As though my dragging mood had summoned him, the prince soon sauntered through the gardens, his smile as bright as the fading afternoon sun. “Opal, I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“Oh?” I tilted my head, smiling and withholding a laugh. “There’s really only one other place I could be.”
His answering smile could only be described as insufferably buoyant, as he went on to say, “You haven’t been informed? You’re free to roam the halls as you please, any garden you like.” Instead of feeling shocked or even excited, suspicion flooded. Grasping my hands, the prince gri
Beneficial.
Fitting.
I pursed my lips to keep them shut, slowly taking my hands from his so as not to make him concerned. “Well, this is… unexpected.” And utter rubbish, I thought.
Why would the queen lie to her son in such a way? To have him inform me, and therefore keep my hope alive enough to keep working for them?
Staring into his gold-flecked eyes while he muttered about the conversation they’d had over breakfast, his hands moving animatedly, I watched him scratch the side of his nose three times.
The timing of his appearance in the gardens, not long after his sisters had gone, leaving only us, the insects, and perhaps a loitering groundskeeper, said this had nothing to do with his mother or the king.
He was lying.
“Hello, murderer.”
Vordane’s king didn’t talk or falter as he crossed the room from where he’d warped inside by the door and retook his seat upon the bed. Silent, liquid movements now stilted, he gathered clothing and my hand, and we got to work.
“You seem… tense,” I goaded once we’d reached the second to last pile.
“Fucking furious is what I am,” he rumbled, jaw shifting and his hand clenching over mine. “You reek of him.”
“He didn’t kiss me,” I said after a minute had stolen precious air from my lungs. “He did find me in the gardens, though.”
His head lifted, features twisted with displeasure yet no less striking. “How lovely.”
Looking down at the bed, I hummed, and we soon moved onto the last pile.
Because I was an idiot, and because I hated him, I went on, casual and unbothered by the overwhelming heat that rolled off him and flooded the room. “He said he plans to marry me, has spoken with his mother, and she has taken it under consideration.”
His feral expression slackened, fading into something too dark to be named.
“What?” I asked with an air of feigned impatience.
“Truly, sunshine…” He seemed to stare right through me. “Can you not smell rot when it crouches before that pretty nose of yours?”
I let him feel every ounce of rage inside himself, hoping it burned his black soul, and then, with a calm that threatened to shatter the ice in his eyes, I said, “I’m well aware of what hides and festers in this kingdom, and that I have no place here.”
The room cooled within an instant as his fury morphed into confusion, his stumped expression nearly comical. “Then why?” His thick brows flattened over his eyes. “Why do any of this?”
“For now, I have no other choice.”
It still seemed to escape him that he was the reason. “You do, and you know it,” he snapped, leaning over the garments to grip my chin. His eyes sank into mine, refusing to release them, as he murmured, “We can leave right now.”
“You can, and I hope that you do, but I ca
The wolf king’s smile dropped, and he rose from the bed. “Someone comes.” Looking from the closed door to me, he held out his hand. “Let’s go.”