CHAPTER NINE ISI
CHAPTER NINE
ISI
The dining room had been turned into a masterpiece of oppressive elegance.
Crystal chandeliers cast light across the long table, making the silver and china gleam.
Elaborate floral arrangements punctuated each section, their perfume cloying and heavy.
Servants moved like ghosts along the edges of the room, pouring wine and bringing course after course of food that tasted like dirt.
Father sat at the head of the table, elevated on an ornate throne that allowed him to observe every expression, gesture, and moment of the performance he’d orchestrated.
I sat between two of my suitors, positioned for their attention. Lord Crestin, my third suitor, sat across from us, glowering at the distance between him and me when compared to the other two.
Trew stood against the wall with the other guards, forced to watch.
His shoulders held the rigidity of a man who’d turned himself to stone, but his eyes followed my every move, burning through the pretense.
Each time Lord Alfred leaned too close on my right, a muscle in Trew’s jaw ticked.
Each time the gaze of Lord Finley on my left wandered below my neckline, Trew’s fingers twitched toward his blade.
The air around him shimmered with heat, magic dancing beneath his skin, restrained only by threads of control growing thinner by the second.
This was my father’s cruelty in action, each detail designed to remind me I was a commodity, a thing to be displayed and sold to the highest bidder.
Lord Alfred’s gray hair gleamed in the candlelight. He’d been talking for twenty minutes straight about his estates on the northern shore, and how our daughters would be beauties, with my height and my family’s coloring, all while comparing me favorably to his prize hunting hound.
“You’d look lovely in the family jewels,” he said, reaching out to touch my hand where it rested on the table.
I pulled it away, placing it in my lap. While I wasn’t opposed to marrying someone older, he had to be at least my father’s age.
He didn’t seem to notice me pulling away, already launching into another story about his properties and dogs and the importance of producing strong heirs.
This is the man my father thought I was going to visit with when I fled my guard, supposedly to enter a cluster. Instead, I’d infiltrated Trew’s court.
My grip tightened on the napkin I’d laid in my lap. I forced myself to breathe. To smile. To nod at appropriate moments.
Across from me, Lord Crestin watched with dark, calculating eyes.
Because he was the suitor my father appeared to favor the most, he was the dangerous one.
I sensed he was intelligent enough to see through facades and ambitious enough to want power more than affection, yet something in his gaze suggested a flicker of genuine sympathy, as if he pitied the cage I was in.
“Tell me, Princess,” he said, his voice smooth, “how did you find your time at the cluster? It must have been quite a change from court life.”
The question felt like a trap.
“It was enlightening,” I said. “The sisters were very kind.”
“And yet you left rather suddenly.” His smile didn’t reach his dark eyes. “Most who go there stay for months, even years. You barely remained a few short weeks.”
“I have responsibilities here.” I kept my voice level. “The cluster understood.”
“I’m sure they did.” He took a sip of wine, never breaking eye contact. “Still, it’s curious. Some might say suspicious, given the timing. You left shortly after your sister’s tragic death, did you not?”
“I needed time to think.”
“You left your poor father to mourn alone.”
My magic flickered under my skin, barely controlled, and the torches flared on the walls.
My father’s gaze sharpened.
“I’m sure the princess had her reasons,” Lord Finley said, flashing me a smile that was probably meant to be charming.
He was younger than the other two, handsome in a pampered way with his dark hair artfully styled.
He’d spent the first course checking his reflection in the mirrored wall opposite the table.
“My delicate flower needed time to grieve,” he said, reaching for my other hand that still rested on the table. “Isn’t that right, sweet blossom?”
“Indeed,” I bit out.
My father shot me a warning look.
I consciously relaxed my jaw, forced my smile wider, and reached for my wine glass, trying not to break the stem when I gripped it.
The bodice of my gown was suffocating me, the elaborate silk much too tight. I wanted to tear it off, run from the room, and destroy the entire place.
I could not look at Trew. If I did, I’d see his fury, and I’d lose what little control I had left.
A servant appeared at my elbow with the next course, delicate fish in a cream sauce, but his hand shook, spilling a drop of sauce onto the tablecloth near Finley’s plate.
Finley recoiled, cursing under his breath. “Pay attention, would you?” he barked.
“Apologies, my lord,” the servant stammered.
“Watch yourself,” Trew said flatly, stepping forward to steady the platter before resuming his position. The brief intervention drew my father’s eye, but only for a moment.
My father’s knuckles went white on his wine glass.
Though I knew it wasn’t, the fish tasted rancid. I nudged the plate away.
“I understand you’ll soon hold a Day of Mercy,” Lord Alfred said.
I blotted my lips with my napkin, placing it on my lap after. “In less than two weeks.”
“What are your thoughts about forcing ashwine on your subjects?” Now he appeared to be the conniving one. I’d dismissed him as being as foppish as Finley, but that could be a facade.
“I don’t like it,” I growled, then immediately realized what I’d said and how I’d behaved.
Silence rippled down the table.
“Amarissa,” Father warned.
Lord Alfred’s snort of laughter rang out, a rich, melodious sound. “Spirit! I admire that in a woman. Within reason, of course.”
Meaning as long as I bent to his will at all times, he’d indulge me on occasion before locking me back in a cage.
I wanted to stab him with my fork, and I was already planning three different ways to kill him with the butter knife.
A servant appeared at my elbow. “More wine, Your Highness?”
“Please.”
I needed something to do with my hands before I actually did stab someone.
My face ached from my forced smile.
Dessert arrived in a flourish of sugar and cream, delicate pastries that probably cost more than most families in the village earned in a month.
Lord Crestin leaned forward, his voice pitched low. “You know, Princess, you remind me of one of the wild horses that roam the upper region of my court that’s been penned up too long.”
I met his eyes, seeing the speculation there.
“Someone tried to tame you,” he added, “but it didn’t quite take. I find that intriguing.”
Lord Alfred’s hand landed on my thigh under the table, his fingers pressing into the silk of my gown, leaving invisible marks that made bile rise in my throat. This man’s hand felt foreign, invasive, wrong.
I removed it, laying it on the table where it belonged, though the sensation lingered, a reminder of what my father intended for my future.
“I assure you, my lord, I’m quite content where I am,” I told Lord Crestin.
“Are you?” His smile felt much too knowing. “Because from where I sit, you look like you’d rather be anywhere else. One might even think you weren’t interested in being courted or married.” He slanted a glance at my father.
Lord Alfred’s lips twitched with amusement. He was enjoying watching Crestin rake me over the coals.
“My daughter will do as she’s told,” Father said, giving me a look full of warning.
Since I could still feel the memory of his whip across my back, I held in my flinch and gave him a polite smile.
I felt Trew’s reaction, however. The temperature in the room rose, his magic responding to the threat.
The candles blazed.
My father frowned, his gaze moving between Alfred, me, and the guards.
“How strange,” I said quickly. “There must be a draft in the room.”
My own control was fracturing. I could feel my magic building under my skin, responding to my anger and desperate need to be free of this trap.
Pherin, watching from a branch outside the window on my right, sent me thoughts of violence. Stating she’d gladly shift into her firecat form and claw out Crestin’s eyes. She’d bite Alfred’s hand off at the wrist and chuck it against a wall. I only needed to say the word.
I suppressed the laugh bubbling up my throat. The sound would come out too close to hysteria.
“Princess?” Lord Alfred leaned closer, a strawberry pinched between his fingers. “You look flushed. Perhaps you need refreshment. Open wide.”
He thrust the fruit toward my mouth.
“I’m quite capable of feeding myself, thank you.” I kept my voice pleasant and nudged the strawberry away.
“But I insist.” He moved closer, and I caught the scent of his cologne, something overpowering that made my eyes water. “Let me care for you.”
“The princess said no.” Trew’s voice cut across the room.
Everyone froze.
My heart stopped.
Every guard turned to look at him. My father’s eyes narrowed to slits.
“I beg your pardon?” Lord Alfred’s voice went cold, though he didn’t bother to look Trew’s way.
“The princess declined the fruit.” Trew’s voice returned to the flat, professional tone of a bodyguard. “I merely noted it for the record. My apologies if I spoke out of turn, but I am here to protect her.” A muscle in his jaw jumped.
My father studied him for a long moment before turning back to the table. “Your guard seems a touch too invested in your safety, daughter.”
“He takes his duties seriously,” I said, my throat tight. “I appreciate his diligence.”
“Hmm.” My father’s gaze lingered on Trew for another beat before shifting back to me. “He needs to remember his place.”
Or else. The threat hung in the air.
Lord Alfred set down the strawberry, his expression sullen. “I was merely being courteous.”