“Yes. A demonstration. I want to see your power with my own eyes.”
“Father,” Rian says in a low, tight voice. “Lady Sabine just survived a vicious abduction; perhaps we don’t immediately thrust her up on stage?”
“Nonsense. Show me, girl.”
My chest fills with lead as I slowly pick up a crumbly piece of tart crust with shaky fingers.
Come here, little mouse. I’ll share my food with you.
The mouse scampers across the floor in cautious bursts, pausing to sniff the air. He makes a wide arc around Berolt’s feet to where the treat rests in my palm.
“There,” Rian says curtly. “See what you need?”
Berolt grunts, dissatisfied. “I want to see her command something bigger. One of the army’s hounds. Or better yet, one of the tigers. And no offering it food—I could lure a mouse with a pear tart.”
My nerves don’t go away, but they’re rapidly being eclipsed by anger. Who does this man think he is, to command me like a puppet? I’m to be his daughter-in-law, not his servant.
I’m about to risk the dungeon and tell the mouse to piss on this man’s shoe, when Rian rests a hand on my knee and squeezes. I pause. The touch is a signal: Don’t.
“I’ll arrange something,” Rian says with purposeful vagueness. “Now, there’s the engagement party to plan, so if you’re done extending a warm welcome to my bride—”
“I’m not.” Lord Berolt snaps his fingers. “Stand up, girl. I want to see exactly what my son’s coin has bought him.”
Before I can object—if I even dared—Lord Berolt seizes my arm and drags me to my feet. His wrinkled hand feels the contours of my hips and stomach, manhandling me like livestock. My thoughts lurch to a halt. Bile rises on my tongue, the bad taste enduring no matter how many times I try to swallow it down.
“She’s ripe,” Berolt says. “She might give me a godkissed grandchild. You should start on that soon, Rian.”
My mouth forms into a stunned “o,” so aghast at this man’s crassness that I’m entirely speechless.
Rian, clearly used to such behavior, pops a spiced nut into his mouth and murmurs, “I should like to get to know my bride first.”
Berolt gives a derisory snort. “Hurry, or with a pretty thing like her, I have half a mind to do the job myself.”
I actually gag, but at the last minute, am able to mask the sound as a cough. Fucking gods! And I thought Rian was the one to worry about. Now I see that disease is most rampant at the base of the family tree. I’m reminded of something Basten said. A terrible rumor that Lord Berolt killed Rian’s mother when Rian was born without a godkiss, contradicting what the fortune tellers predicted.
Is that the great mystery of why Rian chose me as his bride, despite essentially ignoring me at the Preview? They think because I’m godkissed, I can give them godkissed Valvere children? There are ample godkissed women, but not many among Astagnon’s nobility. If Rian wanted a godkissed bride of noble birth, there were only a handful of options.
Rian’s jaw tightens as his father’s hand wanders further up my belly toward my chest. Rian shoots to his feet, knocking a silver fork off the table. He’s of formidable height as well.
“Oh—about the incident at Titan’s Taverna,” Rian says, his tone seamlessly switching to business as his body herds his father away from me and toward the door. “I overheard that Theo Laganon is back in the bottle. I thought we might post a few undercover sentinels at the pub next time . . . ”
Berolt mutters a response, and after a low conversation at the door, Rian manages to eject him from the room. He spins back to me, wipes a slow hand down his face, and then gives a humorless smirk. “Now you understand how he built such an empire. He takes whatever he wants.”
His tone may be darkly joking, but he looks shaken by the incident, too. My lips are trembling now that the assault is over, the danger gone—at least for now. Rian takes one look at my face and shakes his head.
“No—no, don’t fear him, Sabine. I can handle my father. He won’t touch you.”
“He just did!”
Rian concedes the point with a head tilt. “Well, I promise you that he won’t make good on his threat, how about that? And neither will I, for that matter. You and I haven’t discussed it yet, but I have no intention of forcing you into my bed before we’re properly wed. I could frankly care less if you worship Immortal Iyre. But I know you’re a virgin, and I’ll honor that.”
A cruel laugh rests at the base of my throat. A virgin? Oh, how I could raze this castle to the ground with the truth. If he was only smart enough to believe me.
“You want me to trust you?” I ask bitterly. “To believe you’ll keep me safe? You forced me naked across half of Astagnon! You’re a villain! If Wolf hadn’t been there—”
I snap my jaw shut, biting off my words. It won’t do any good. Angrily, I glare at Rian until he finally gives a tight sigh and leaves me alone.
As if I needed one more reminder that creatures on two feet can never be trusted.
Chapter 28
Wolf
As soon as I’m back in my shithole of a house, I throw myself head first into investigating what’s happening at the border wall. Okay, so it’s not entirely a shithole. Until a few weeks ago, the game warden’s residence, just outside the city walls between the Golden Sentinel barracks and the start of the Blackened Forest, suited me fine. It’s as simple as cottages come; a single room with a large fireplace and a sleeping loft, and a porch where I store my bows and arrows. It’s quiet. Peaceful.
Now, the quiet is fucking killing me.
I always thought I wanted solitude. The few times I’ve had soldiers in my house to share a bottle of ale was tolerably pleasant, but I was always anxious for them to leave. Now, I can’t stop glancing at the empty second chair, at the bed that’s only ever used on the left hand side.
Hunting isn’t any better. I’d thought it would take my mind off a certain girl with flowing locks, but all I can see in the woods are animals that remind me of her: owls, geese, mice. I have to force myself to fire the killing arrow, reluctant now that I know they could be friends of hers.