Chapter XII Confession #2
The heat in my face spreads down my throat. I’m ridiculously scared everyone at the table knows exactly what’s going on with my body.
“Everything all right, sweetheart?” Magnar asks softly, cupping my cheek.
“Can you tell what I’m thinking?” I blurt out, desperate to confirm that fear so I can perish from shame.
Magnar frowns. “I… Well, you seem overwhelmed and excited. You’re breathing very fast. Are you afraid of something?”
I sigh in relief and look down, right into my heaving breasts that are pinkened with a blush. I squirm to sit more comfortably as my belly aches, and Magnar makes a low noise of understanding.
“It’s the bath, isn’t it?” he asks, his voice suddenly icy cold, shockingly calm. “What did Khay do?”
I look up in alarm, my hand shaking in his. “He said it was fine!” I hiss, realizing belatedly I should have picked something else to say.
Magnar’s eyes narrow, and his lips purse as he watches me, his gaze as sharp as knives. I hiccup from fear, and he closes his eyes and takes a deep, shuddering breath. His hold on my hand loosens, and he strokes my knuckles until my stiff shoulders drop in relief. He’s no longer angry.
“I’m jealous, little wife,” he says with a sigh. “But it’s not your fault, nor is it Khay’s. Whatever he did, it must have been right. He knows his duties and privileges.”
I wonder what to say, lacking polite words to even talk about it, but Magnar seems to be done with our conversation.
“Here.”
He serves me from the nearest dishes, heaping crispy vegetables, meat drowning in a golden sauce, and some kind of baked mushroom onto my plate. I take a sip from my goblet, then a few more when it turns out the drink is some kind of sweet, fruity wine. It’s delicious.
I eat undisturbed until my belly’s full, and I fight back yawns with bigger and bigger sips of wine.
It makes me even sleepier, but I don’t know what else to do.
The dining hall gains a sort of dreamy quality around me, people’s conversations blending into a pleasant buzzing.
Magnar’s soldiers get up from the tables in threes and fours, coming over to salute him before they leave.
My chalice never runs out of wine. Agnidari servants bustle around the table, refilling everyone’s glasses and bringing fresh dishes until everyone’s sated.
“You have an early start tomorrow, don’t you?” Vardi asks. “We’ll have to repeat this when you ride to take your seat at the Table of Kings, then. Leave a day early so you can spend it with my wife and me. Kirita is dying to exchange some female gossip with the queen.”
I smile at that, bright and happy. Kirita is nice for wanting to speak with me, even if she’s horribly improper. Though, maybe it’s a good thing. Maybe I can ask her things about all the poking my husband and knights are doing.
“I’d love some female gossip,” I say, the words coming through with a bit of difficulty. I sway happily, delighted by all the pretty lights around me, and reach for my chalice. Magnar snatches it away, though, and I pout with disappointment.
“It seems you’re used to weaker drinks,” he sighs, shaking his head. “It’s high time you went to bed, anyway. Come on up. I’ll take you to your room.”
“Goodnight,” Vardi and Kirita say with small laughs.
“I forgot to tell you I love your earrings,” I slur a little, beaming at Kirita, who grows blurry. “You’re so pretty and nice. I want to ask you things.”
Kirita laughs, though she seems pleased, and Magnar snorts as he pulls my chair back.
“And your hair is so gorgeous” I say, turning to Vardi. “You’ll have to tell me how it’s not frizzy, I can never get my curls to… Oh no. It feels weird.”
I’m on my feet, supported by Magnar, who’s almost bent in half to get his arm around me. He chuckles as he leads me away from the table, and I try to turn and wave goodbye, but the floor rocks too much and I almost fall.
Magnar sweeps me off my feet into the cradle of his arms. I beam at him, putting my arms around his neck. It gives me excellent access to his hair. I grab fistfuls of it and sigh in bliss when it turns out exactly as soft as I expected.
“You have the prettiest hair,” I croon, letting my head loll back against his shoulder. “And so soft. I want to braid it someday. Can I?”
His eyes sparkle with mirth as he looks at my face, and I don’t know whether it’s because of my blurry vision, or maybe he looks really affectionate and handsome tonight.
“You can play with my hair all you want once we get to the keep,” he says, and I breathe him in, cloves, and wine, and leather.
“And you smell nice,” I say with a happy sigh.
Here is my Agnidari husband, and he’s beautiful, just as Khay said. I admit it now. I have a beautiful husband who’s nice to me, so much nicer than I deserve.
Something clatters in the distance, and the smile freezes on my face as my insides tighten with guilt. No, this is wrong. I’m all wrong.
Magnar killed my father, and here I am, complimenting his hair.
“I know I’m bad for not hating you,” I say with a sad sniff, my throat squeezed tight with tears I refuse to let out. “Such a bad girl. Horrible. I deserve to be locked up in my cellar without food and water. And no one should come. No one ever comes.”
The gentle rocking of Magnar climbing the stairs stops. When I look up to see if we’re there already, he’s frozen, watching me with cold, assessing eyes. He’s appalled by me, I realize, feeling an odd sense of relief. Maybe if I’m punished for not grieving my father, the guilt will lessen a bit.
“Who locked you in a cellar?” Magnar asks, his soft voice at odds with his fearsome expression.
I close my eyes with a sigh. “Governess. Teachers. I’m very bad, you know. You should have picked a better princess, because I’m a disgrace. So stupid, that girl. Never gets anything right.”
“What the fuck is this?” he asks, his voice no longer gentle, but vicious. “Who said that?”
“Khay,” I say with a stupid giggle, remembering something. “You know, Khay asked me if I’m daft before you killed my father. Ha! So glad you did. Now you know. Now you know how horrible I am. You should really lock me up.”
Magnar’s arms shake as he gathers me more tightly to his chest. He walks again. My eyelids are heavy, but I manage to lift them enough to peek at his face. He looks livid, his pretty mouth flat, his eyes casting thunder. Oh, now I did it. He’s so angry with me.
“But Khay’s nice,” I slur, trying to take it back. Everyone hates a snitch. You can’t run to teachers and tell on other people. “He was joking. Khay’s always joking, saying I’m beautiful. Funny Khay.”
“Mm-hmm. Very funny,” Magnar says, his voice tight. “Why are you glad I killed your father? Did he lock you up, too?”
I blink in confusion. “Oh, no, he’d never. No-no. I’m his prize. You don’t lock a prize in the cellar. Don’t you know?”
Magnar hums, though the sound is wrong, growly. “Why then?”
But I shake my head, knowing I can’t say that, no-no. It’s forbidden. I told once, and look what happened.
“I’m bad, horrible, ugly, good for nothing,” I say, laughing, because it’s a relief to finally let Magnar know.
“Can’t even grieve my father. I’m sorry I deceived you, making you think I’m a proper princess.
Then again, you only need me for the seat at that stupid table.
You have it now. Lock me up somewhere dark so I don’t shame you. I always make everyone ashamed.”
Magnar’s hold on me grows tighter and tighter until I’m curled up in his arms like a kitten. I try to hold on to a strand of his hair, but it slips through my fingers, silken and smooth. I think I’m drifting away.
“I’ll find each and every one of them,” Magnar says quietly, his voice dark with menace. “And I’ll have them whipped, drawn, and quartered. You have my word.”
I snort with weak laughter, remembering something else. “Oh, yes, whip. They whipped my horse when I told. I had to sit there and watch, and a knight whipped my horse until she died. Took hours. Father felt bad. Got me a new one. Please, don’t whip my horse. I’d rather be locked up.”
“Fuck,” Magnar grunts, his fingers spasming where they dig into my thigh. “Are you hearing this?”
Khay, who I only now realize is walking by his side, grunts in confirmation. I sigh in dismay, realizing the nice, beautiful Khay who made me feel so good heard all this. Now he knows, too.
How horrible I am.