“Forgive me, Aimery, my brain is still muddled from the hallucination and I’m having difficulties understanding you.”
His gaze slipped over her, lingering on her scars and on her curves, and Winter was glad she didn’t involuntarily shudder.
“Princess Winter Blackburn.” He slinked closer. She couldn’t resist taking a step back before she managed to stop herself. Fear was a weakness in the court. Much better to act unperturbed. Much safer to act crazy, when in doubt.
She wished she had not told him the nightmare was over. She wished the walls had gone on bleeding.
“You are a darling of the people. Beloved. Beautiful.” His fingers stroked beneath her chin, with the delicacy of a feather. This time, she did shudder. “Everyone knows you will never be queen, but that does not mean you cannot wield your own sort of power. An ability to appease the people, to bring them joy. They admire you greatly. It is important that we show the people your support for the royal family and the court that serves them. Don’t you agree?”
Her skin had become a mess of goose bumps. “I have always shown support for the queen.”
“Certainly you have, my princess.” His smile was lovely when he wanted it to be, and the loveliness of it curdled her stomach. Again, he looked at her scars. “But your stepmother and I agree it is time to make a grand statement to the people. A symbolic gesture that shows where you fit into this hierarchy. It is time, Princess, for you to take a husband.”
Winter’s muscles went taut. She had thought it might be coming to this, but the words in his mouth were repulsive.
She pressed her lips up into a smile. “Of course,” she said. “I will be glad to give consideration to my future happiness. I have been told there are many suitors who have posed an interest. As soon as my stepmother’s wedding and coronation ceremonies are complete, I’ll enjoy looking at the potential suitors and carrying out courtships.”
“That will not be necessary.”
Her smile was plaster. “What do you mean?”
“I have come to request your hand, Your Highness.”
Her lungs convulsed.
“We are perfectly matched. You are beautiful and adored. I am powerful and respected. You are in need of a partner who can protect you with his gift to offset your own disabilities. Think of it. The princess and the queen’s head thaumaturge—we will be the greatest envy of the court.”
His eyes were shining and it became clear he had been imagining this for a long time. Winter had often thought Aimery might be attracted to her, and this knowledge had been the seed for countless nightmares. She knew how he treated the women he was attracted to.
But she had never imagined he would seek a marriage, above the families, above even a potential Earthen arrangement—
No. Now that Levana would be an Earthen empress, it wouldn’t matter if Winter could make a match with the blue planet as well. Instead, to marry her weak, pathetic stepdaughter off to a man with such an impressive ability to control the people …
It was a smart match, indeed.
Aimery’s grin crawled into her skin. “I see I have left you speechless, my princess. Can I take your shock for acquiescence?”
She forced herself to breathe and look away—demure, not disgusted. “I am … flattered by your offer, Thaumaturge Park. I do not deserve the attentions of one as accomplished as yourself.”
“Don’t pretend to be coy.” He cupped her cheek and she flinched. “Say yes, Princess, and we can announce our engagement at tonight’s feast.”
She stepped away from his touch. “I am honored, but … this is so sudden. I need time to consider. I … I should speak with my stepmother and … and I think…”
“Winter.” His tone had a new harshness, though his face remained gentle, even impassive. “There is nothing to consider. Her Majesty has approved the union. It is now only your acceptance that is needed to confirm our engagement. Take my offer, Princess. It is the best you will receive.”
She glanced at the door, seeking what solace she didn’t know. She was trapped.
Aimery’s eyes darkened. “I hope you aren’t expecting that guard to ask for your hand. I hope you aren’t harboring some childish fantasy that to deny me is to accept him.”
She clenched her teeth, smiling around the strain. “Don’t be silly, Aimery. Jacin is a dear friend, but I have no intentions toward him.”
He scoffed. “The queen would never allow such a marriage.”
“I just said—”
“What is your answer? Do not toy with words and meanings, Princess.”
Her head swam. She would not—could not—say yes. To Aimery? Cruel, deceitful Aimery, who smiled when there was bloodshed on the throne room floor?
But to say no would not do either. She did not care what they might do to her, but if she endangered Jacin with her refusal, if Aimery believed Jacin was the reason for her refusal …
A knock prolonged her indecision.
Aimery growled, “What?”