CHAPTER THIRTY #4
“Should I hate you because you lied to me?” he asked.
“Because you tricked me? Hate you because of what you are?” His eyes found mine again.
“I told myself that I should all night. That I had to, that it was my duty. And yet, I couldn’t.
Instead of hating you, I thought of you, I dreamed of you, I wanted you.
” His voice shook. “Even after all I knew. Even after I stumbled from your Godsdamned door and felt my body take the hit. Even when I recognized the hits I’ve been taking again and again since the night we met. ”
A tear rolled down my cheek.
“And yet when I woke this morning, and you were at my door, I was happy.” He shook his head. “I wanted to see you. Even while I was furious. Don’t you get it? I tried to hate you all night long. And I couldn’t.”
“But I don’t want to hurt you,” I whispered, my heart thundering with his confession. “The fact that I have is killing me.”
“But you can’t help it?”
“No.”
He sighed. “I don’t see any other way. I can’t break the contract between us.
I can’t march back outside and annul this marriage.
Or undo the years my father spent negotiating peace between Eskalon and Spartva.
If I don’t marry Olivay, we will be at war.
We’re bigger, we have a larger army, but their navy could squash us if they wanted to.
They have resources they’ve kept quiet for years, allies that if called upon would bring about our end.
My father arranged this for a reason. He does everything for a reason.
And horrible as he is, this cannot be undone.
Nor do I want to undo it. I do not wish war upon my people. ”
He pushed his fingers through his hair, his eyes wild, like he’d been obsessing over this all night and had to get it out, get it off his chest.
“Even if I took Spartva out of the equation,” he said, “I still can’t run from you.
If I don’t marry, if I don’t secure the throne with the promise of an heir, do you understand how easily it could all go to Jaron?
How swiftly House Bathiner would take power in my absence?
Thousands wish to remove my father from his throne.
But would you have me replace him with Jaron?
Would you gamble one tyrant for another, one is mad and sadistic? ”
“No,” I said. “Jaron cannot rule Eskalon. Ever.”
Brennan’s throat bobbed. “And what do I do about you? Olivay. Samara. What the hell do I do about you?” He gripped my waist, and stared into my eyes.
“You, who have found a way to steal my heart, again and again, no matter what face you wear.” His eyes blazed as he stared into mine.
“Before that night in the tavern–before I saw you dance, and heard you speak, and smelled your scent,” he leaned in, brushing his nose against my neck, “I never felt that way about anyone before. I’d been with other women, but nothing moved me the way just touching your hand did that night.
It tore me apart what I felt—feel. And all the while, preparations were being made at court for my wedding.
I knew what I had to do. What duty demanded.
What my people needed. But there was always you, the beautiful, charming Azete who crawled under my skin, who was living inside my heart, possessing my soul. ”
His body pressed against mine, and my chest heaved.
“I could barely look at Olivay for days. The most beautiful girl in all of Eskalon and Spartva and looking at her made me sick! So I didn’t.
Until I had to. Until the tourney when I took off her ribbons and I looked into her eyes.
I knew what had to be done, knew it was expected, that I had to perform my duty.
I kissed Olivay, and I felt nothing but shame and disloyalty.
To you. And to her. Until I didn’t … Until something changed.
She was different, almost like a new person and I thought, ‘Brennan you fool, you were ignoring what was before you, what was there all along.’”
His head lowered to mine so our foreheads pressed together. I couldn’t help myself. I lifted my lips, his mouth a breath from mine. The Azete stirred, seeking, wanting.
“But that wasn’t true. I knew what I’d felt when I met her,” he said.
“I couldn’t understand how my feelings had transformed so quickly.
Surely it was not over a Godsdamned kiss, not when I still longed for you.
My feelings only began to subside in Olivay’s presence.
Then I started to—” He bit his lip. “To long to see her, to want to see her. To …” His eyes blazed, his lips brushing against mine. “To want her.”
“You want me now?” I asked, my voice rasping. My stomach clenched and turned. It wasn’t just me. It was the Azete. And from the way Brennan’s eyes widened, I knew he could tell. Could sense both.
“Do I damn you?” he asked. “Do I damn my people? Or, with every touch, and kiss, do I damn myself?”
His lips were on mine again again, kissing me, sweeping past the chaste kiss at our ceremony. This kiss was ours, and it was full of love and passion and fear and hate. He licked the seam of my lips, his hands around my neck, thumbs stroking my skin, sliding lower, and lower.
“How much?” he asked, breaking the kiss, pressing his nose against my cheek. His chest heaving. “How much of my life have you taken?”
“Years,” I said. “At least.”
The door sprang open. Our wedding guests had arrived and found us. They were cheering and yelling, shouting out bawdy comments—all about the bedding ceremony. How eager we were for it—how we had to wait just a little while longer.
Rowan and Kienan pushed through the crowd, into the doorway and grabbed Brennan’s arms, pulling him off of me..
“Well,” he said, meeting my eyes. “What’s one more year gone in the grand scheme of things?” And then they dragged him out of the closet and into the lodge, slapping his back as they retreated into the crowd.
I, too, was grabbed by the arms and brought forward. Noblewomen from House Lafir were on either side of me, escorting me into the dining hall. Every step I took, I was faced with someone new, someone congratulating me, hugging me, kissing my cheek, twirling me around or admiring my wedding dress.
I kept trying to reach Brennan again. But he was even more surrounded than I was. Drinks were coming out fast on a dozen trays, and glasses were shoved into my hands every few minutes. As soon as I finished one cup, another came, everyone urging me to drink.
They wanted me plied with wine, wanted my inhibitions low. It was the only way to guarantee them a good show at the bedding.
An hour passed like this. Trays of food coming out, followed by trays of wine and beer and mead. Speeches were being made, dances were performed, and I could not get a minute to myself, or a minute even in my new husband’s presence.
A second hour passed in half as much time, and suddenly, a new song began to play, and everyone shouted with a kind of titillated excitement that I’d only ever seen at Geoffrey’s.
As if the thought of the bastard had summoned him, he was by my side a moment later. “Ah, the excitement of the bedding ceremony,” he crooned.
I shook my head. “A little eager, aren’t we? We’ve barely had dinner, so you’ll just have to wait.”
He laughed. “Dinner? Don’t you know? The last-minute change in date and venue means there’s barely enough food to feed a proper wedding party.
And certainly not enough food for the day after.
To make sure no one notices, the king has scheduled some …
” he grinned, “entertainment.” His eyes dipped down my body and back up.
“I’ve never truly gotten to see you at work.
Your real work, that is. But I must say,” he reached for my waist, “I’m rather excited to see you finally take a cock after all these years, especially in this body. ”
Immediately I jerked away. “Go to fucking hell.”
He laughed. “Oh, come now. You don’t mind.
Whoring is not new to you. Nor distasteful to our kind.
And anyway, I see the way you look at him.
The way he’s always looked at you.” He looked around the room and frowned.
“But none of your … family … is in sight to watch your big moment. Not even your little ambassador.”
I snarled.