Chapter 14
Fourteen
A good brownie always strives for peace.
Especially in times of war.- Arienna
“So does your brother like being pegged?”
Nicholas coughs into his cup, his drink spraying out of his mouth and nose. “What – Where –”
“In his ass.” I tilt my head as I stare at myself in the three full-length mirrors in front of me. They follow the curve of the pedestal, allowing me to see myself from many angles.
Swaying side to side, I make my wedding dress swoosh. “Normally, anyway,” I say. “But I guess it could go in his mouth.” I wince. “I don’t want to know about the urethra.” Though I’m certain someone somewhere has tried it.
Shuddering, I run my hands down my skirt, smoothing the dark silky material.
“No.” He coughs some more. “I know what… pegging is.” His eyes refuse to meet mine in any of the mirrors. “I mean, where did that come from?”
“Fabia says all fairies like being pegged. She researched all about you for her books. I’ve never done it though, so if you have any pointers –”
“Ajax!” Nicholas hollers. “Bring over another dress.”
“What? Why?” I ask, trying not to sound irritated. “I like this one.”
I look down at the gods-awful dress. Dirt coloured, it bunches at my waist and sags over my boobs.
But I don’t care anymore. I’m tired of trying on dresses.
I’m tired of being poked and prodded. I’ve never been inside a tree before.
I want to explore the castle. I want to find Fabia.
I want to accidentally run into Richard and see if he has a semi.
“No fucking duh,” Ajax answers as he comes striding over with a dress in his hands. “That one is hideous.” He shoots me a look of pity. “You look like you have the chest of a man.” Glancing at Nicholas, he adds, “And you are not picking any more.”
“I know my brother’s tastes.”
“Your brother doesn’t have any taste. Wearing black armour with pockets is not taste. This” –he holds up the dress in his hands– “is taste.”
And oh baby, do I agree. Feather white with black-and-silver embroidered thorns snaking up the hem, the dress takes my breath away.
The bodice is made up of dozens of feathers arcing from the waistline to over the breasts.
I have no idea how it’ll possibly stay up as I don’t see any straps, but it falling down in front of Richard will be no bad thing…
“It’s white,” Nicholas scoffs.
“It’s pearl.” Gesturing to me, Ajax says, “Come here, love.”
Lifting the hem of my hideous skirt in both hands, I step off the dais.
Then freeze.
My breath catches in my throat.
My chest tightens to the point of pain.
My palms grow damp.
A shrill ring sounds in my head as I look at the first dress that actually looks like a wedding dress.
A wedding dress.
For me.
Holy crap. I’m getting married!
To a man I don’t know.
A tyrant.
A monster.
A warmonger.
Who eats children.
And murders babies.
And he probably puts the toilet paper on the wrong way.
I gasp for breath.
I close my eyes.
“Arienna?” Nicholas says cautiously.
Ah! What am I doing?
I can’t do this! I can’t marry a man who’s known for massacring entire villages. He killed his older sister in a fairy ring to take the throne. He probably killed his mum and dad too.
And I’m going to let him kiss me?
Sleep with me?
Marry me?
Oh gods, no.
Hoisting my skirt high in the air, I take off in a run.
The door of the suite looms far ahead of me. Too far. I can hear Nicholas running after me. Questions are thrown into the air that I can’t answer. I can barely hear them over the pounding in my skull. I need to get out. I need to escape. I need –
One foot bangs into the other. My arms fly into the air. The skirt twists around my legs. Flailing, I watch as the ground comes crashing up to meet my face.
Strong hands grab my waist. They yank me up a split second before I bust my nose. Planting me on my feet, they spin me around.
Looking at Nicholas, I gape at him like a dying fish. “I can’t marry him.”
“The alternative is death, Arienna. You don’t want that.”
I shudder. “That just drives my point home! It’s between him and death? How can I marry someone like that? How did you –” I swallow as my eyes scan the scars on his face.
A coldness washes over his features. “Richie is nothing like Stephanie. If he wasn’t forced into this position, he wouldn’t be marrying you. But he found a way to save you. And him.” He pauses. “And all of his people.”
“What?” My eyes search his, begging for something I can hold on to in the chaos of my mind.
“Richard is fighting for change,” he murmurs. “Good change that will hopefully see us at peace – a life we have not known for generations, for thousands of years. He has sacrificed so much to get us here, and all he needs now is you. You have to marry him, Arienna. For us. For peace.”
My mouth flounders for oxygen I can’t seem to grab. I know it’s flowing through my lungs. I know I am still breathing. But that part of my body feels foreign and tight and wrong.
Peace? My marriage will create peace?
How can he throw that on me! How can he think that even more expectations and the overwhelming weight of responsibility will be a good thing!
“I need Fabia,” I croak.
“She’s unavailable.”
“But she’s my maid of honour! She needs to be here. I need her here.” My hands twist in my skirt. I suck in a ragged breath, trying to calm the panic drowning out all thought and rationality. “I need her –”
“Not to be that guy,” Ajax cuts in, “but we’re running out of time. So if you could have your panic attack while changing into this masterpiece of a dress, that’d be great.”
I gulp.
Grabbing my hand, Nicholas gives it a small squeeze. “You’re going to be fine,” he says, looking me in the eye. “And if you ever think you won’t be, just look at me, okay? I’ll be standing right behind Richard, so you’ll be able to compare my face with his and know you got the right brother.”
My laugh comes out flustered and weak. That was a horrible joke, but a good brownie always laughs at one’s joke.
And I am a good brownie.
And good brownies always aim for peace.
But… but…
“I need to talk to Fabia.”
He stares at me for a long moment. My breaths come out faster and faster. My hands grow clammier. Ushering me over to a chair, he sits me down and gives my hand another squeeze. “Okay. I’ll go get her. You wait here and take deep breaths, okay?”
I nod as I struggle to do as he requests. A big breath in. And out. In. And out.
Oh gods. What am I doing?
I’m not even drunk this time, so I can’t blame my bad decisions on the usual.
This is all on me. Sober, horny, no-standards me.
Squeezing, my eyes shut, I dig my fingers into my lap.
No, no. I still have standards.
I’d rather die with my mother’s vagina on mine than marry someone who eats children.
So I can’t marry him.
But I have to marry him to live.
But I don’t want to marry a monster.
But –
Oh gods, Fabia, where are you?