Chapter Thirty-Seven #3
Dietan is telling the truth. I’m nothing to him. He’s finally admitted it. I can barely sit upright. It’s like the world is toppling underneath me.
Everything he said to me last night was a lie.
I turn to Dietan, who sits rigidly in his chair. His face is solid, impassive, turned away.
I don’t love her. She’s nothing to me. I was just using her to get to where I needed to go.
So that’s why he didn’t want to make love last night. It had nothing to do with being in the dungeon. Sure, he was aroused, but he was just a man with a man’s needs. That’s all. That’s why he kissed me. And he stopped himself because he didn’t really want it. He doesn’t really want me.
What a fucking bastard.
I grip the edge of the table so tightly, my fingers ache. I should have married one of the farmers who propositioned me back in Evandale.
Dear goddess, is this real? I can’t breathe, can’t move.
I don’t love her. She’s nothing to me. His words echo in my head, empty and flat.
I can’t believe it. I thought I knew him. But I don’t know everything, do I? It’s now clear there are other reasons for his journey—reasons he didn’t share with me, like looking for the Vindar. Even as he put my life in danger again and again—like now—he was lying to me.
A lie of omission is still a lie. He definitely drank the same henbane water that I did. I saw him do it. He can’t help but tell the truth.
“Well, now that is a twist,” Namreth says. “Your engagement was just a ruse to get here?” He looks at me, his smile only widening, as if the drama unfolding is too delicious to be true.
Dietan actually smiles back. “Could anyone ever really believe I fell for a woman like her? Does she look like a princess?”
Namreth beams and turns to me. “Did you know?”
My entire body is shaking as I vacillate between disbelief and anguish. “I knew we weren’t really engaged, but…”
“Oh, no,” Namreth says with false shock, then laughs. “My dear, you… You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
The truth is there, right there, on my tongue. I grimace, trying to form a lie, trying keep it in, to protect myself, but the henbane is too strong. “Yes,” I spit like it’s a curse. The urge to cry burns at the back of my nose, but I hold it at bay, refusing to break down in front of these pricks.
Dietan remains impassive. He shrugs as if my feelings are inconsequential. I suppose they are. I suppose they’ve always been. How could I have been so fucking stupid?
I don’t love her.
His words carve themselves into my bones, breaking me apart and reassembling me all wrong.
Last night, when he kissed me and pressed his body against mine, when he held me to keep me warm and I looked at his face, at his smile, his kind eyes, the gentle slope of his cheek against the dim dungeon light, I thought I knew him.
I thought we’d become something more to each other than mere traveling partners, that our bond had grown deeper than the roots of a mountain.
But I was wrong.
So wrong.
I was right about one thing, though. From the moment I met him, I saw him for what he is. A liar. I should’ve remembered that. I should’ve known I couldn’t trust a prince, a man, him.
The first time I saw Dietan in the Raven’s Beak wearing that ludicrous disguise, I knew everything I needed to know about him, yet I was swept up in this grand fantasy.
I’m not my sisters, who think the world is theirs.
Only a dumbass fool would believe that someone like him could ever love someone like me.
All these years as a spinster should have prepared me for reality, but I foolishly threw all those hard-fought lessons away, falling for the very fairy tale I’ve always said was bullshit.
Against my will, a single tear rolls down my cheek, and I lower my head, unable to meet either man’s eyes any longer.
“What’s wrong, dear?” Namreth asks, his lips curling into a grin over the rim of his cup. “Is something the matter?”
“Yes,” I say, because the damned poison is making me answer honestly. I want to say no, nothing’s the matter, I couldn’t give a rat’s ass, but I can’t.
“By now, you probably realize that what you’ve been drinking this whole time isn’t water,” Namreth says. “It’s henbane. Delicious, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I reply, because it’s true.
“It’s a local delicacy. Secrets are quite the currency in our quiet little kingdom. Do you like it?”
I try to force myself not to answer, but the longer I try to fight it, the worse the itch in my head becomes. I want to rip off the top of my skull and dig my fingers into my brain to stop myself from speaking, but instead I let out a ragged, “No, I don’t like it one bit.”
Namreth must enjoy the despair on my face, because his laughter fills the chamber. He tops up our cups again, relishing in his newfound victory. He watches the two of us like he’s plucking the wings off some hapless insect. I’m helpless to stop it.
“This is so entertaining, truly. Family should visit more often.” Namreth laughs.
“You know the truth now. Aren’s of no use to anyone,” Dietan says, lifting his goblet to his lips. “I do admit, though, she makes biscuits like a goddess.”
“You don’t say,” drawls Namreth.
“Yes, the finest I’ve ever eaten.”
I grit my teeth. The bastard.
Namreth seems giddy now. “Are you a good baker, girl?”
The truth is wrenched from my lips. “Yes.”
Namreth looks pleased to hear it. “It just so happens there’s a recent opening in the kitchens.
Yes, you will serve nicely there, I think.
” He settles back in his throne. “I appreciate your candor, nephew. I can’t wait to taste the biscuits myself.
I always find a woman’s touch in the kitchen is unparalleled. ”
A servant. I’m going to be chained to a kitchen, the exact place I’ve been trying to escape all these years.
The pain inside warps me, twisting and turning and arching into my chest with barbs that explode outward.
I remember Katharine’s warning. I should have heeded it and ran back to Alba or died trying.
This stupid, piece-of-shit prince is sending me to the kitchen for the rest of my miserable life, and I’m fucking furious. I’m rage personified.
I’m going to kill him.
I leap to my feet and lunge at Dietan, but guards rush in and grab me by the arms, holding me back.
Dietan barely moves and doesn’t look at me.
“You lied to me!” This time, the truth feels so good coming out of my mouth. All the pressure in my head dissipates, the henbane loosening its vice grip on me as I shout, “I never should have trusted you!”
Dietan doesn’t react.
“Look at me, you coward!”
He doesn’t.
There is only one thing I can think to do.
I spit on him.
The glob lands squarely on the side of Dietan’s face. Slowly, he reaches up and wipes it away. When he finally turns to me, his eyes are cold, his brows lowered. He gazes at me intensely. With a small shake of his head, he clenches his jaw but says nothing.
“Take her away,” Namreth says.
The guards easily lift me off my feet, and I kick and scream, thrashing with every bit of strength inside of me as I’m carried like a child down the hall.
Fury and anguish pour out of my soul, their guttural cry echoing around the room.
They drag me out and slam the door to the throne room behind us.
I’m still cursing Dietan’s name when the guards lock me the kitchen pantry.