Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“Which is why you must help us,” Luthian says, his hands curling to fists. “Firo, I cannot risk her falling into that creature’s clutches again.”
Separated from Luthian? I can’t breathe. “No!”
My outburst startles the faeries.
“Cenere,” Luthian begins, his voice thick with emotion.
“No, it cannot be. I can’t... I can’t...” Whatever small spark of strength and dignity that was left in me after the horrors of the morning is doused. I throw myself at Luthian’s feet. “Don’t make me go!”
“This isn’t something either of us can stop,” Firo says gently, laying a comforting hand on my back. “You will be safe, as long as you do whatever Arcus asks of you.”
“I did what he asked,” I sobbed. “I did everything that he asked, and he punished me for something that I did before we were betrothed!”
“Arcus is an unreasonable, unpredictable tyrant,” Luthian says, and reaches down to lift me to my feet. “You are better than him. Better at playing the game. Better at hiding the truth of your feelings. Better in every other way. I know that you can do this.”
I shake my head, ready to deny him again.
“You can do it.”
Please, don’t say that I was born for this, I think, for I could not stop myself from asking the truth behind his words if he utters them.
Instead, he leans his forehead against mine. “I know what you endured today. Even knowing that, I would have taken your place. But what’s done is done, and we have reached the point of no return. You will leave me tonight and go to Arcus. You will simper and praise him and please him and do nothing to evoke his wrath. I promise you; this will be over soon.”
A point of no return. We can’t simply disappear from court now; Arcus would look for me, I am certain of it. The only choice before me now is to live to see the king assassinated or die myself. Because I refuse to ever again experience what I suffered today.
I wipe my own tears away and step back from him. “We came here to do a job. You thought I was capable enough when you chose me for it. I would hate to let you down, now. Go to your meeting.”
He looks to Firo, as if pleading for another solution.
“Go,” Firo says softly. “I’ll take care of her.”
Still, Luthian hesitates.
I place a hand on his chest, feel the warmth of his body beneath his clothes. We are on a treacherous path now. We have always been, though I did not appreciate the danger before. He covers my hand with his, and I close my eyes. “Go, Luthian.”
“If this is the last time we see each other,” he begins.
I shake my head. “It won’t be. Go.”
He lifts my hand to his lips and brushes a kiss across my knuckles before he disappears.
My shoulders sag and I double over, hugging myself but unable to cry.
“Come on,” Firo says, putting a steadying arm around me. “You need to be beautiful for the announcement tonight.”
My eyes are puffy, my face likely red around the nose from my weeping. I laugh and hear the thickness of water lingering in my lungs.
“We can fix all this,” Firo promises as he leads me toward the stairs. “We’ll make you so beautiful and so strong, Arcus will fear you.”
* * * *
The royal throne room is even more crowded the second time I enter it. Luthian is at my side, but his presence is not a comfort now. He is to deliver me to the king, to be humbled before the entire court.
The splendor of the room, which overwhelmed me the first time I saw it, is even more dazzling now. Everyone is dressed in their finest, heaped with jewels, skin shimmering, wings aflutter.
Every eye is on me as I walk beside Luthian. He’s dressed all in black, as if in mourning. I managed to write a cheerful note to the king, asking what color he’d decided on for the night’s festivities, and I’ve dressed to match him. The satin of my gown is the same wine hue as his velvet doublet, and the jeweled choker around my neck—more like a collar, considering the event—winks with garnets to match those in his golden crown. He sees me from the dais and rises, extending a hand.
An image flashes through my mind, so vivid I’m afraid it’s truly happening. I see myself clinging to Luthian, begging to break our agreement, asking him to take me away from this place.
It’s too late. It was too late this morning. It’s certainly too late, now, with every eye in the court upon me.
Pretending to be cold to Luthian is easy; it means I don’t have to give him one last look or trust myself not to weep as we part. I don’t spare him even a glance as I drift from him toward the dais, my expression joyously serene.