Chapter 23
The room went completely still at Kye’s words.
I felt them watching me. All of them. Even Cain had stopped whatever he was working on to twist in his chair, his eyes boring into my back.
“No,” I said.
I’d rather burn alive.
A muscle in Thaan’s jaw twitched. “No? You don’t want to hear the rest? You don’t want to know why that’s part of my demands?”
“I don’t care why.” Poison entered my veins as I glared up at Kye. My fingers curled around the armrests of my new chair, my knuckles white with scorn. Every tendon within me went taut, so rigid there was no stretching any further.
“I won’t actually marry you, witch,” Kye said, his smile widening, though something like disgust dripped from his words. “I won’t even bed you. Unless you ask for it.”
“Nikolaos,” Thaan said sharply, turning his eyes onto mine. “My dear, let’s demonstrate some sensibility toward your situation. There is no negotiation between us. Either you listen to the terms of our agreement, or you perish at sunrise.”
He paused, waiting for a word from me, but I met him with silent, flaming eyes. I didn’t care if he offered me another roasted chicken. A seed, a feather, a bullion of gold. A flying ship that would take me to Mihauna and back. I’d turn it all down.
There was no way in this world I’d ever agree to marry Kye.
“You’re free to die tomorrow if you wish. But I assure you, marriage itself isn’t required. In fact, other than at events where you’d be socially obligated, you don’t even need to be in the same room as Nikolaos.”
He called Cain’s name, studying me as he waited with an empty hand in the air for the smaller man to place a scroll in it. Unraveling the parchment, Thaan set it out before me, sliding the candle holder to secure it from rolling away.
“Well,” he waved a hand impatiently over it. “Read it.”
My jaw tightened as I leaned forward. Words jumped from the paper at me, but I’d never read anything other than my mother’s book, and it had been at least a year since I last opened it, worried it would fall apart.
The scrawl was long and loopy, letters connected by tracks of ink in elegant dips and flourishes. I worked out the first line in my head, heat crawling through me as their expectant eyes bored into the top of my skull.
One. I, Maren of Leihani, consent that I am bound by the promises I make in my life-blood, here within this contract.
“In my life-blood,” I repeated out loud, scrutinizing them as I looked up.
“Yes. Signing a contract in blood is binding by the life-force of your own breath and body,” Thaan replied, though his words did little to answer the question rolling around in my head. He correctly gauged my silence as confusion. “You’ll die upon breach of contract.”
“I see,” I breathed, hands spreading on the table’s surface. “So, this contract which will supposedly save my life also threatens it.”
Thaan didn’t react to my mocking tone. “In more ways than one.” He flicked his fingers, ordering me to continue.
But I wasn’t satisfied. “How will signing in blood threaten my life?”
Something about his posture made me wonder if he was verging on losing his patience, even as his body was a painting rendered in cool indifference.
“Because whether or not you believe it, you are a Naiad,” Thaan drawled. “You are born of the sea. I could sense it the moment I saw you. You felt it, too, when you saw me. Do you not experience that tingling in your spine when you look into the eyes of a Naiad? Did you not feel that with me? There are few of us left, and we are in desperate need of soldiers in our own fight. Your engagement will bind you to Calder, where I can train you, grow your abilities, mold you to fill the roles needed to win our war.”
I gazed at him in desperation. A Naiad? My ability to comprehend somehow abandoned me. I was marooned, left alone on an island, watching a ship carry all judgment and reason over the horizon.
Thaan trained his eyes on mine, watching as my grasp on reality floated away.
I hated him.
Hated his icy blue eyes, his dry skin, his haughty voice, his thin fingers, his strange tunic. Hated the leverage he’d somehow gained on me, his superiority, his dominance. Hated his words, his explanations, his hidden intentions. I knew, undoubtedly, I was a pawn to him.
I hated him almost as much as I hated the traitor leaning against the wall, watching me in silence.
“You want to use me,” I said, focusing on the one aspect of his proposal that made sense.
“To put it bluntly, yes.”
“To do what?” I traced the words written in black ink with my fingers. Curled, straight, crossed, dotted.
Written words had meant little to me before. They meant everything to me now.
“To do whatever I need. Whenever I need. However I need,” Thaan said, his lips barely moving.
“To be your slave. Your property.”
“I prefer servant. It’s not intended to be forever.”
Dark laughter came from the side of the room where Kye stood. I ignored it.
Thaan waved his hand as though he had no time for either of us. “I do not care. This meeting has gone on long enough. Are you ready to sign?”
“No.” I swallowed hard. ”I”m a Naiad?”
He looked at me as if I was devoid of all intelligence. “Yes.”
“But I’m not.” I couldn’t be. The Naiads I’d known had raised me up and cheated me. They’d killed Irah—the one friend I’d ever made. And they hadn’t even tried to deny it. I wasn’t a Naiad. I refused to be one.
“You are, and I have no time to go over the specifics. It will all be encompassed in your training. Are you ready to sign?”
“No,” I spat again, realizing he thought I’d already read the entire thing. My eyes darted back to the written words, but the feeling of being rushed did nothing to help me puzzle out what they were. I struggled in silence, feeling the flames of hatred lick my body.
Two. I will not repeat the contents of this contract to any person or Naiad not involved in my studies.
Three. I consent to a betrothal between myself and Nikolaos Laurier of Calder for the duration of three years, at which time, the engagement will dissolve.
My teeth clenched as I stole a glance at Kye. He smirked at me. Sneering, my eyes dropped back to the parchment.
Four. I will attend private lessons to strengthen my Naiad skills. I will not speak about these lessons to anyone not expressly involved in them, even my betrothed. If I try to speak, I acknowledge my voice will be lost, and no sound will leave my lips.
Five. I will not willingly admit my Naiad heritage to anyone who doesn’t know who I am, for it is against Naiad law to do so. If I speak the words, my voice will be lost. If I physically expose my Naiadic nature, the life of the human I reveal myself to will be forfeited.
Six. I promise to make my lessons my priority. I will work tirelessly to increase my skills in Naiad transition, water manipulation, and human incantment. I will learn and perform the customs of Naiad culture when appropriate, while identifying the sophisticated practices of royal life and adapting my personality to the demands of a future princess.
A long, enduring sigh came from across the table at my reading speed. The room was silent but for the soft crinkle of whatever scroll Cain was studying. My fingers crawled into my hairline as I ignored the two of them, a scowl stretched over my face.
Seven. I agree, upon the given order, at a date and time to be determined, that I will assist and carry out the death of Prince Hadrian of Calder, heir to the throne.
I stopped, my eyes jumping to the beginning of the sentence. I read it again. And again.
I will assist and carry out the death of Prince Hadrian of Calder.
“This is treason,” I breathed.
Thaan didn’t flinch. “Why else would you think you’re blood-bound to keep this contract a secret?”
“You want me to kill the future king?”
“You’ve killed before,” Thaan said, his voice polished and cold. “It should be easy for you.”
The sides of my temples hurt from how hard my teeth ground together. “I’ve never murdered anyone.”
“Three hundred people in Leihani would disagree.”
My blood churned, liquid fire.
“And how would I even get close enough to the prince to kill him?”
“That’ll be easy,” Kye answered. I swiveled to face him, my glare an inferno. His mouth curved with dark amusement. “He’s my brother.”