Chapter Two
No one has seen King Lucian in years. I mean, that isn’t strictly true.
Many people have seen him. There were many people in attendance at the wedding that didn’t happen last year.
But there are never photographs at the events that he’s at, and he never speaks on camera.
He is seen, but only in the flesh, and in order to see him in the flesh you have to be someone of import.
My family has never been important.
Until we received word that the king had chosen my sister to be his wife.
Then, suddenly, we were important.
I don’t feel important right now. I also don’t feel especially practical. Suddenly, standing outside in the antechamber of the great iron palace that I have actually never seen in this close, and only ever seen in pictures online and from a great distance, I do not feel even a little bit brave.
Suddenly, I want to go back home and hide in my room.
All I’ve ever done is dream of leaving home. Plan for leaving home. I’ve never actually done it.
I’m more arrogant than I realized.
What I’ve done is work as a lab assistant and save money.
That’s it. Eve has at least dated. Fallen in love and out of love, tried different jobs, had her heart broken, broken hearts.
She’s lived more than I have and I convinced myself that because my goals were academic that somehow made me stronger.
I don’t feel stronger now. I feel like what I am: a virgin who’s never left home.
And who is about to be a dragon’s breakfast.
Just because I’ve never valued certain kinds of knowledge doesn’t mean I won’t need it, and I’m overcome by that realization.
I try to conjure up the images I have seen of him.
They exist, but there’s just not new media of him. At least nothing not taken from a very distant position. Anything new is grainy and indistinct.
Not that it matters how he looks. But I don’t have a clear picture of him in my head as I both will the doors to the throne room to open, and try to will them to stay shut forever.
It doesn’t matter what I want. The doors open both too late and too early.
I look up and I see him. The room might as well be kilometers long. He’s all the way at the back, seated on a black throne, his shoulders straight, legs spread, hands on his knees. He’s looking ahead, at me.
I realize he has no idea who I am or what I look like—not really. I know more about him than he does about me. Perhaps that puts me at an advantage in some way. At the very least, I’ll cling to that like a lifeline.
“Approach.”
I would have expected a command from him to sound distant, but no. It’s like that word blooms inside my chest and spreads outward, filling me. Compelling me. All thoughts I had only a moment ago about claiming my advantage evaporate.
I can explain mitosis, but I can’t explain anything that’s happening in my body right now.
I feel frozen, and yet, my feet are moving. My body rushing to do his bidding. It feels like a crisis. How could it be anything else? One thing I’m not is biddable.
You’re also not an idiot. Disobeying him right now could ruin everything.
Yes. I’m not being a doormat. I’m being smart. Within the realm of the very risky thing that I’m doing.
As I get closer to him, it feels as if the room gets larger, or perhaps I’m getting smaller. Like I’m shrinking beneath his uncompromising, icy gaze. By the time I get to the throne, I feel small enough to fit into someone’s pocket.
And yet there is not a single pocket in the vicinity that I would trust.
“Give me your name.”
He is an imposing figure. I knew he was scarred.
Everyone knows that. What I didn’t anticipate was how extreme the contrast is between that scarred flesh on his right side, and the pristine beauty of his left.
His features are perfectly shaped. He has the strong features of a leader.
A sharp nose, an expertly crafted jaw. If not for the scarring, he would be beautiful.
As it is, he’s lethal. I’ve never seen anything like him.
The scars make his looks border on the demonic. Because I can’t look away from them, or him. Because he is handsome, somehow, and yet the word isn’t quite strong enough.
I can tell, even with him sitting up on the raised throne, that he is as tall as rumored to be, if not more so. So far, he is all anyone has ever said.
And that is concerning.
I crane my neck, tilting my chin upward. “Lilith.”
It is not, at the moment, his features that make him frightening. It’s the fire in his eyes, which flares high and bright, and for a moment, I worry I’m in hell already. Like he might have dragged me down here with him, where everything is brimstone and intensity.
A black hole…
I look into his eyes, and they are fathomless.
There is no end to his depths. A black, bottomless well.
For the first time I’m properly afraid.
But I won’t show it.
“Lilith and Eve,” he said, thinking, considering. “An interesting combination of names. Did your mother do that intentionally?”
“Yes,” I say. “And also no. By which I mean, she thought it was an amusing combination, and liked both names, but I don’t think there is deep symbolism attached.”
“Interesting. I was wondering if it meant that you were the disobedient one. After all, in mythology, she was the first wife of Adam, who was banished for not complying with his wishes.”
“I am familiar,” I say. “It is my name, after all.”
“Well, it is good to know that you’re familiar with your name. And why exactly do you think I should allow you to take your sister’s place?”
“Because you don’t actually care who your wife is.
” I’m taking a chance. I know it. I have no idea what King Lucian cares about.
No one does. It’s interesting that our first conversation is about myth.
Because the man himself is more myth than reality.
The idea that he might be a murderer is a popular one.
But there are also rumors that he’s cursed. Destined to never find love because of a curse that a sorcerer put on his family before the start of the wars.
Standing there, looking at him, I think that perhaps he has never wanted love at all.
I have no idea what he wants.
“It’s true,” he says. “I decided to select a woman from Alabria. A commoner. I thought that it might perhaps boost morale among the people. To know that one of their own rules alongside me.”
“Do you intend to have your wife rule alongside you?”
He tilts his head to the side, and he reminds me rather of a snake considering his prey. “I haven’t decided yet. Tell me about yourself, Lilith.”
It is a command. I can tell that he has never had a command directly disobeyed. I can also tell that this is a test.
Perhaps he’s mad. Because I see these warring things in him. The fire in his eyes, the darkness too. He is a predator now, playing with his food, perhaps? Or is he just a jaded rich man looking to be entertained?
If so, why hide away?
He’s a study in too many contradictions to make sense of him, which definitely suggests madness. And yet. For some reason I find him more compelling than repellent.
“I would like to know more about you,” I say.
His lips curve, higher on the left than the right. “So you are disobedient. Interesting.”
“Did you want compliance, Your Highness?”
“No,” he says. “What I would like desperately is to not be bored.”
This galvanizes me. I was right about him. He’s bored. People often find me entertaining—even when I’m not trying to be funny. Whether it’s because I’m forthright or just a bit bolder than a woman should be…
Though I don’t feel bold. I just feel like me.
If it serves me here, though, then I’ll use it.
And feel personally pleased that I was right about my ability to think my way out of it.
“Well, I’m not certain that I can help with entertainment. Are you sure you don’t need a babysitter rather than a wife? Someone to arrange play dates?”
He is smiling fiercely now. “What I need,” he says, “is a rehab of image. Whether I want one or not. The truth is, Alabria is becoming increasingly isolated from trading partners. And from the world itself. All of my attempts at marriages to fix this have failed, except for the union with Basilia. At least, the thwarted wedding resulted in a partnership.”
“I imagine it’s difficult to get other nations to partner with you when there’s a possibility you’ve murdered the previous women that were sent to you.”
I feel the guards near him take a step closer to me. He holds up a hand. “Bold of you to mention that.”
“I don’t see the point of not addressing the elephant in the room. Whether or not I…” I swallow hard. “Whether or not this marriage will be the end of me.”
“I have no wish to harm you, little one. On that you can be certain.”
To some, that might be an endearment. With him, it feels more cold observation.
It isn’t actually an assurance that I will remain unharmed. Just that he doesn’t wish to do it.
I recognize that I’m going to have to be content with that, however. At this point, anything he says is going to be suspect to me. I don’t know him. I have no reason to trust him.
“Tell me about your sister,” he says.
Trying a different tactic. I have, perhaps, earned some level of respect from him.
“She’s lovely. Beautiful, I assume you knew that.”
He nods. “I have a dossier about her. Your name is in it, but I confess that I know precious little about you. I did not ask for your information.”
“If you have information about my sister then surely you know she’s engaged to be married.”
He considers this. “Yes.”
“And yet, you were going to force her to marry you? You’re doing a very good impersonation of the vile dictator that everybody thinks you are. If you want to rehabilitate your image, perhaps forcing a woman isn’t the way to go about it.”
He lifts a hand. “I am the king,” he says.
As if it is a great honor. As if no one could possibly want anything other than to be in his presence, to be his wife. Not even to marry the man that they love. The man they are already engaged to.