Chapter 50 #2
“It will take days,” he explains. “Even for him.”
“He’ll come sooner. Auren will find a way.” Even now I can feel his determination to find me, through the bond. “I know he will.”
A ring of blue smoke appears before us a moment before an Incubus steps through. I narrow my eyes as I recognize him. “It’s you.”
He flashes a grin. “Taryx at your service.” He bows low. Before I can say anything else he turns to Branneth. “I could retrieve her husband and bring him here,” he offers. “Get this all over with faster if you’d like.”
“You were lucky to breach his kingdom’s defenses once, Taryx,” he grumbles. “If you try it again, the Elves will likely smite you on sight.”
Branneth drums his clawed fingers on the arms of his throne. “Besides, a few days of travel might cool King Auren’s anger so he’ll be less likely to smite me on sight when he finally gets here. And give me a chance to explain before he decides to end me for taking his mate.”
“I have an idea,” I offer as I look at Taryx. “Why don’t you take me to my husband, and I’ll straighten all this out, and we can avoid all the… smiting.”
Taryx snorts, and Branneth pins him with a dark scowl before he turns his attention back to me.
“Fine,” he says, and hope sparks in my chest before he adds, “Simply sign the contract, and you’re free.
After that, Taryx will take you wherever you want.
” His golden eyes meet mine, narrowing. “Refuse, and the magic will decide for us when you turn twenty-three.”
“If you do as he asks, I’ll take you anywhere you desire,” Taryx says.
“And if you decide you’d prefer a bit of adventure before returning to that dreary city under the mountains, might I suggest the sunny beaches of Solwyck?
And before you say no”—he winks—“you’ve never truly experienced life until you’ve traveled with an Incubus. ”
“Absolutely not,” I huff. “I demand you take me back to my husband. Now.”
“Then sign the contract, and he will,” Branneth says exasperatedly.
I shake my head. “Not until Auren reviews it.”
The Goblin King sighs heavily in frustration. “This could have all been avoided,” he mutters. “If the two of you had only responded to the summons instead of ignoring them entirely.”
“Perhaps you should not have kidnapped me,” I shoot back.
“What would you have had me do?” he demands. “Wait for the bargain to bind us both to a fate neither of us wants?”
“I would have had you leave me where I was!”
His nostrils flare. “And then we would be standing in this exact same place on your twenty-third birthday, only without the option to end it!”
“I’m going to make you regret keeping me here,” I say, narrowing my eyes.
“I am not keeping you here.” A snarl curls his lips. “I am trying to release you.”
I regard him warily. “Very clever, trying to convince me you want me gone, but I’m not buying it.”
“Nothing about this situation is clever,” he growls low in his throat. “It is intensely annoying, deeply inconvenient, and rapidly testing the limits of my patience.”
He is rather convincing. My gaze drifts around the room again. The thorny vines are everywhere, not just on the throne beside his—the one meant for his queen. Something about all of this doesn’t make sense. “I assume, from the decor, that you might not have been anticipating taking a queen.”
He goes very still. “You’re very astute,” he replies sarcastically.
Taryx gives him a pitying look, but I don’t understand why.
“Well,” I continue, folding my arms as I study the empty chair, “then surely we can find you some nice Goblin woman to—”
“No.” The word cuts through the room like a knife.
Slowly, I turn my head to look at him. He’s rigid now, his jaw tight and his shoulders tense.
“I will take no queen,” he says, each word controlled to the point of strain.
Something flickers in the air and the vines in the room shift slightly.
“Perhaps she has a point,” Taryx offers. “Rose is gone. Maybe it’s time to move on and let go of the—”
“Leave us!” Branneth snaps at the Incubus. “I have enough problems with this infuriating human right now, I don’t need any more of your advice.”
“Fine,” Taryx huffs. “I was only trying to help, Bran,” he says as he disappears through a ring of blue smoke.
Well, this just got interesting. I decide to push a little. “Who is Rose?”
His gaze snaps to mine. “No one.”
“That’s not what it sounded like to me,” I press.
His jaw tightens. “You presume too much.”
“Something happened with this Rose, to make you this way,” I venture.
“You know nothing,” he replies, but there’s an edge in his tone that tells me I’m right.
I glance again at the thorns, the empty throne next to his; the way the room itself feels like a wound that never healed. “She broke your heart,” I say quietly.
His expression shutters. “Do not speak of things you do not understand.”
Ah. There it is. The small crack in his carefully constructed facade. “What did she do?” I ask, poking at the chip in his armor. “Lie? Cheat? Run away with—”
“She died,” he snaps, and I go still.
Devastation mars his features before he quickly retrains his expression into a neutral mask.
For a moment I feel sad for him, because I recognize the pain of loss in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
Instead of answering, he clenches his jaw and looks away, angry that I’ve uncovered his wound.
“You know what it is to lose someone,” I say softly. “So you must have some idea of what my husband is going through right now.” I pause. “Why don’t you just let me go?”
His mouth tightens. “That,” he says, thoroughly exasperated, “is precisely what I’m trying to do.”
I bite back a groan of frustration. “I don’t believe you.”
“And I do not particularly care.” He narrows his eyes. “Do not mistake my patience for weakness, for I have very little of either left to give.”
“Well, that goes for me as well,” I shoot back.
His brows lift in surprise, his lips twitching slightly.
In this moment, I realize I have the upper hand. For all his thinly veiled threats, I get the feeling he’s not going to hurt me. If anything, he’s annoyed at my presence. Well, if he thinks this is annoying, he hasn’t seen anything yet. I’ll make him rue the day he took me from my husband.
“Where are the servants?” I ask.
He frowns. “Why?”
“Because I’m hungry. And as my host,” I say pointedly, “it’s only good manners to ensure I’m well-fed.”
“I thought you said I was ill-mannered,” he grumbles.
“Fortunately for you,” I say primly, “you won’t be for long because you have an excellent teacher.”
“And who might that be?” he asks sarcastically.
“Me.” I paste a bright smile on my face. “And since I’m going to be here for a bit, while we wait for my husband to arrive and smite you… I think this place could do with a bit of an updated décor.” I glance around the room. “Don’t you think?”
“No.”
“Well, too bad,” I reply tartly.
One of the servants walks by the doors, and I call out. “You there!”
He skids to a stop, and backs up, poking his head into the room in confusion. “Are you talking to me?”
“Yes.” I smile. “What is your name?”
“Um… Dradyn’myr,” he replies a bit uncertain. “But you can call me Dradyn.”
“Dradyn,” I repeat. “What a good strong name,” I add, and he puffs up his chest. It seems Mountain Goblins aren’t the only ones who appreciate flattery. “I need you to go to the kitchen and have the cook prepare dinner.”
He blinks several times, and I continue. “And tell them we’d like lemon cake for dessert.” I glance at Branneth and smile. “I absolutely love lemon pastries, don’t you?”
Sighing heavily, he purses his lips. “I suppose,” he grumbles.
“Excellent!” I give him a beaming smile and then turn back to Dradyn.
“And could you please locate five strong men and have them report to the throne room?” He frowns, but I continue.
“I’ll need capable workers to help spruce this place up.
It’s much too dreary in here.” I look again at Branneth. “Don’t you agree?”
He draws in a deep breath as if summoning all his patience before he replies, “No.”
“Well, I do,” I tell him. “And since I’m going to be here for a while, I’ve decided to help you decorate.”
His gaze darkens, something sharp flickering beneath the surface as if he’s weighing whether to put a stop to this… or simply endure it. But he says nothing.
Instead, he glares at me and I simply smile in return, and it occurs to me that this has got to be the strangest kidnapping in the history of kidnappings.
And as his scowl deepens, I’m beginning to suspect I may be a more difficult hostage than he anticipated.