Marius laughed at the sound of her hunger. “Had I known the Daeva would starve you, I would have sent someone else to bring you home.”
“Would you have?” She unfolded her napkin. “Even knowing why I left?”
His arrogant smile slipped. When he recovered, his lips were noticeably thinner than before. “I won’t pretend I was happy to learn you’d run off with a bastard, but if what I’ve heard is true, you’re not the first girl he’s seduced for money. I can’t blame you for falling victim to his charms. You were only sixteen.”
The terseness of his response caught her off guard. She scanned his face for a hint of subtext—a sardonic twist of his mouth to show they both knew the real reason she’d left. But if the bloom of color on his cheeks was any indication, he actually believed she’d run away with Kane out of love. And if that was the case, it meant her parents hadn’t told anyone about her accusations.
She saw a way to make Jordan’s idea work.
“You’re more forgiving than I deserve,” she murmured, staring into her lap but speaking loud enough for all to hear. She peeked up at Marius and then back down again. “I knew it was a mistake as soon as I left, but I was too afraid to come home and face you. Now there’s been so much suffering, and it’s all my fault.”
“Mmm,” he agreed. “Things could have been different if you’d stayed.”
“Maybe it’s not too late to fix this. We can join our thrones and stop the fighting.”
He turned his attention to the girl on his lap, grinning as he ran a lazy finger down the length of her spine. Despite his attempt at uninterest, clearly this was what he’d wanted—for Cassia to publicly ask him to take her back. “Why would I agree to that when I’m about to capture your throne? There’s no need for a marriage alliance now. The fighting will end in days with your surrender.”
“But there are insurgents in my city,” she warned. “A rebellion to destroy the monarchy, all because of the war you waged against them. They’ll never follow you unless I show them there’s nothing to fear.”
Marius lifted a shoulder. “Rebels can be destroyed easily enough.”
“True,” she conceded. “But if you keep using your weapons, soon there’ll be no one left to rule.”
That must have resonated with him, because he hesitated and wrinkled his forehead in consideration. She knew she almost had him. She thought hard of a way to sweeten the deal, to give him whatever he needed to save face with his people.
Above all else, what did he need?
One humiliation for another, she decided as she pushed up from her chair and sank to her knees, right there in front of Marius, his entire court, his romantic playthings, and every servant in the room.
“Please,” she begged, clasping both hands together. “Withdraw your troops and join our families. Help me make this right.” When he didn’t seem convinced, she swallowed her pride and took her submission to the next level. She bent down and rested her forehead on the tip of his boot. She could sink no lower than this. “If you’ll have me, I’ll marry you. I’ll do whatever you ask me to do. Just say you’ll have me.”
When she glanced up, Marius wore a smile so broad it threatened to split his face in half like an overboiled egg. He didn’t favor her with a reply—naturally, he would draw out the suspense—but his expression told her everything she needed to know.
Yes, he would marry her.
And he’d make sure she didn’t enjoy one moment of it.
In the days that followed, Marius made good on his unspoken promise to punish her. When he announced their engagement from the palace balcony, it was with a girlfriend under each arm and Cassia standing off to the side like a used-up handkerchief. Her display as the spoils of war elicited cheers from the crowd, just as Marius had intended, but she ignored their taunts and kept her gaze turned down, scanning the crowd for a familiar broken nose and a squadron of soldiers in disguise.
No one had come for her yet.
She expected to see General Jordan later in the week, escorting the royal cleric during marriage contract negotiations, but he didn’t appear then, either. Nor did he send a message or convey any type of instructions for what she should do next. She signed the contract and slammed down the pen in frustration.
Why wouldn’t Jordan communicate with her? What did he expect her to do? And just how far was she supposed to take this marriage act—all the way to the altar? She hoped not, because at this rate Marius would make her crawl down the aisle with an apple between her teeth. She didn’t even want to think about the wedding night, not that she had any intention of following through on that part of the ruse.
But when two more days passed without word, she was forced to do a lot more than think about it. The morning of her wedding arrived, along with an ivory satin gown, slightly yellowed at the hem, and a handwritten note from Marius.
My mother wore this on her wedding day.
May it bring you the same luck, dear Cassy!