So I Married a Sorcerer (The Embraced #2)

Captain Mador stared at her a moment, then smirked. “I’m glad you realize your purpose here.” He motioned to one of his men. “Take the nun and the dog to Her Highness’s tent.”

Sister Fallyn exchanged a worried look with Brigitta as she and Brody were led across the bridge. They were taken to a tent with a blue-and-gold pennant flapping above the entrance.

King Gunther turned on his heel and disappeared inside a much larger tent.

Was that it? Brigitta wondered. Would she be lucky enough not to have to talk to her brother?

“I’ll take you to His Majesty now,” Captain Mador announced.

Not so lucky after all. She winced inwardly as Mador seized her elbow and steered her toward her brother’s tent. “Oh, how wonderful!” She feigned excitement. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting him.”

“Piss him off and you’ll be sorry.”

Her smile wobbled. “Why would I do that? He’s the only family I have.”

“Don’t speak to him unless he speaks first. And don’t even try to lie.” The captain gave her pointed look. “We will always find out.”

“I understand.”

He shoved her inside the tent. Her brother was seated behind a table, pouring wine from a golden pitcher into a golden goblet. She immediately sank into a deep curtsy.

King Gunther set the pitcher down. “You can go, Mador.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The captain bowed, then left.

Brigitta’s gaze wandered about the tent as she straightened. The rug was thick and glimmered with gold threads worked into an ornate pattern. Cloth of gold had been draped along the inner walls of the tent. Enormous candlestick holders, thick and five feet high, appeared to be made entirely of gold. Why on Aerthlan would he travel with those? They had to weigh a ton. But then, why would he care if he was making life difficult for the servants?

On top of the candlesticks, white pillar candles were lit. A small fire in a solid gold brazier provided more light, making all the gold in the tent gleam.

An ominous feeling crept down her spine. Her brother’s lust for gold had escalated beyond a normal level of greed.

He rose from his chair and wandered toward her. Slowly he circled her, examining her with those cold eyes.

She was sorely tempted to say something to break the awkward silence, but she wasn’t supposed to speak until he did. She remembered Nevis’s advice. Don’t appear weak. And don’t offend him.

Gunther stopped in front of her. “Are you a virgin?”

She blinked, caught by surprise. “I-I was raised in a convent.”

“That’s not what I asked.” He glowered at her. “You were held captive on a pirate ship for a week. Did they pass you around? Or did you spend the entire time in that bastard Rupert’s bed?”

“I was not harmed. I appreciate your concern—”

He suddenly grasped her by the chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. “Don’t think I’m concerned about your virtue. I don’t give a rat’s ass how many men you fuck.”

She flinched, but his grip tightened, his fingers digging into her neck.

“I’m only asking because you’ll be in serious trouble if you’re pregnant.” He moved closer. “I won’t have some pirate’s whelp passed off as my heir.”

“I’m a virgin.”

“Really? I can have a physician examine you.”

She shuddered at the thought. But thank the goddesses Rupert had known to stop when he had. “I’m not pregnant. I’m having my monthly courses now.” Her cheeks burned for being forced into such a personal conversation with a stranger.

He released her, shoving her back a few steps. “Good. I’ll have the servants verify it.”

She took a few deep breaths, then looked him in the eye. “I was not molested. The pirates knew they could earn a bigger ransom if I was returned unharmed.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why did Rupert return you to Eberon instead of Tourin?”

“He feared the Tourinian navy would blast his ships out of the water,” she lied. “My sister Luciana offered to pay my ransom, and Rupert believed it would be safer to deal with Eberon than with you.”

Gunther scoffed. “The coward. I hear the Eberoni army captured him and took him to the dungeons of Ebton Palace. I haven’t received more information yet. Do you know anything?”

She shook her head. “I just hope he gets the punishment he deserves.”

“That would be death.” Gunther stepped back, eyeing her once again. “What is this rag you’re wearing?”

“My sister Luciana loaned it—”

“First.” Gunther pointed his index finger at her. “You will no longer refer to the Eberoni queen as your sister. I am your only family. Don’t forget that.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Brigitta inclined her head.

“Second.” He jabbed two fingers in the air. “The Tourinian princess will not be seen wearing secondhand clothes from another country. Especially a poor one like Eberon. You will be dressed in gold and jewels.”

She clasped her hands together, smiling as if she were delighted. “Oh, thank you, Your Majesty.”

His arrogant sneer returned full force. “Have you heard about the competition?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. It sounds very exciting.”

He sauntered back to the table and sipped some wine from his goblet. “It will begin five days from now in the Lourdon stadium. You will be seated next to me in the royal box, where everyone can see you. You must look and act like a princess. I’ll expect a different gown each day.”

She nodded. “I understand.”

“Whenever we are seen in public, you will look delighted that you’ve been reunited with your long-lost brother. We will appear to be the happiest of families.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” She gave him a shy smile. “I am very happy to discover I have a brother.”

He snorted. “Perhaps you should occasionally slip and call me ‘dear brother.’ Or ‘brother dearest.’ I like that one. And then you could be flustered and apologetic.”

“Yes, brother dearest … I mean, Your Majesty.”

He barked a laugh. “Stay amenable like that, and we’ll get along fine.”

“Actually, brother dearest, I have a few concerns about the competition.”

He waved a dismissive hand. “No need to be concerned. The top three contenders are my favorites. You will end up with one of them.”

“Of course. But even so, I would like to give the competition my wholehearted approval. In order to do that, I would ask for a few concessions.”

He stared at her a moment. “Are you threatening me?”

“No! Of course not. How could I?” She pressed a hand to her pounding heart. “I simply wish to beg for a few favors that would make me feel more comfortable.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Go on.”

“I would like to be able to participate—”

He snorted. “You wish to join in the swordfight? You would be killed.”

“I don’t mean anything that drastic. For example, if one of your favorites asks for a token of my support, I would like the freedom to bequeath it or not, according to my wishes. I would like to feel like I’m taking an active role in the process.”

Gunther shrugged. “All right. As long as you accept the winner, that shouldn’t be a problem.”