12. Killian
Alistair greets me in the wide hall outside the balcony. “I am glad to see you made a full recovery.”
“Debatable.” I rub my aching forearm. “You’re not married yet?”
“There were complications.” Alistair clasps my hand and shrugs. “Paperwork. Formalities. Besides, it takes time to summon the nobility and make arrangements for a royal wedding. No one believed I would pull it off, but I did.”
His preening makes me ill all over again. Alistair has changed in the time I was away. He’s drunk on his own bullshit. I never cared that he took credit for my work before. He never threw it in my face like this, as if daring me to speak the truth, until now.
“Frankly, it’s practically a miracle that we’re making the ceremony happen in a mere two weeks.” He gestures. “How’s your arm?”
“Fine.”
The prince looks skeptical. “The healer said it wouldn’t regain full strength for some time, if at all.”
“I said, I’m fine.” Glancing past him, I find no sign of Briar. “Where is she?”
“Princess Aurora?”
“Who?”
“Rose. The one you insist upon calling by the hideous name her foster parents saddled her with. We have confirmed her identity. Her birth name was Princess Aurora.”
“I repeat: where is the lady?” I can’t explain the urgency to find Briar. I need to see with my own eyes that she’s safe.
Then I’ll figure out what to do about the fact that she’s planning to marry this pompous prick instead of running away with me.
“Probably off discussing the final design of her wedding gown. She’s been quite particular about it. The royal dressmaker has already created three versions, but Rose hasn’t been satisfied with any of the designs.”
Imagine fussing over silk when Briar would be every bit as beautiful if she were married in a burlap sack. If she were my bride, I wouldn’t have waited five fucking minutes to make things official. Swear on a holy book. Make her a ring from a blade of grass. Get her into bed and never leave it.
But then, I’m no prince, and she isn’t my bride. These are the ravings of a madman.
“Kind of you to hold off the ceremony until I could join you.”
“I wouldn’t have, given my druthers.” Alistair cocks an eyebrow. “Was there any reason to wait for you? Never knew you to be a romantic.”
No. Not a single one I can think of. I only made this day possible.
“Speaking of paperwork,” Alistair continues. “I have a drawn up a proclamation granting you ownership of that cursed castle and all the land currently covered with thorn bushes. You’ll have your hands full clearing it, but once you do, it’s a defensible fortress. Of course, you’ll need money for repairs. Those harpies have scratched up the exterior.”
He clicks his tongue sympathetically.
I’ll sleep in her coffin-bed every night. Breathe her in and die dreaming of her petal-soft skin.
“And my basilisk skin?”
“Your basilisk skin?” Alistair echoes. “It’s at the tanner’s. I’m having it prepared for my trophy collection.”
Might as well hang Briar on the wall next to it. Next to all the other creatures I’ve killed that he’s claimed credit for.
These thoughts will drive me mad if I continue to entertain them.
“I was counting on the proceeds from the sale of that skin.” It’s not as if my wages as his knight are generous. Nor have I hoarded my gold as well as I should have. The idea that I might retire from the royal guard never seemed like a real possibility until he dangled that castle as my reward.
“Kill, I know you can’t stand to admit weakness. While you’re recovering, why don’t I assign you an easy task?”
“All I want is my castle.”
Now that I’m here, the urgency driving me to find Briar has faded into self-doubt. I am no different from any other male falling under her spell. I was delusional enough to claim a kiss, but only while feverish.
What might have happened if the prince hadn’t barged in?
Alistair extracts a scroll from his interior pocket and taps it against my chest. “You shall have it.”
I snatch and unfurl it. “Unsigned.” I let it snap closed.
“Once I do sign it, you shall be released from your sworn oath, granted a pension for your aid in saving the legendary Sleeping Beauty, and that weird, decrepit castle full of monsters will be all yours.”
He tightens the roll of parchment and tucks it away.
Pensioned off. Put out to pasture at the ripe old age of twenty-eight.
“What’s my final assignment?” I growl.
“Guard the princess until the wedding. That will give me enough time to arrange for a suitable replacement.”
“You could have found a replacement for me while I was sick.”
“I couldn’t possibly dishonor you after so many years of service. You nearly lost your life helping me rescue the princess, after all. Besides, considering what happened at her last betrothal ball, I’d feel better having someone I trust keep a close eye on Rose.”
I rake one hand through my tangled hair, tugging a fistful hard enough to feel the roots pull tight.
Briar darts out of a passageway and stops short, her eyes flaring wide.
Our gazes lock. In my mind I hear the clash of steel.
I sketch a curt bow and say, “Congratulations upon your formal title, Princess.”
Wrenching my gaze away requires all of my depleted strength. Her gorgeous, blanched face haunts me as I walk away.
I was delirious to think I could have her. Even if it was what she wanted, she wouldn’t fight for it. Briar is content to be Alistair’s sweet-smelling rose of a queen, giving him as many heirs as he desires before he tires of her, and why should she choose anything different?
I have nothing to offer her except a castle where she was held prisoner for a hundred years—and even that depends upon my ability to get through the next three days without pinning her to the nearest hard surface and getting myself sent to the gallows instead of claiming my empty prize.
Briar
What. An. Ass.
He doesn’t remember our kiss, clearly. I don’t know why I expected him to. His cold congratulations, gritted out like a curse…that I did not anticipate.
His surliness, yes, but not his hatred. That cuts me to the quick.
“My darling.”
If Alistair calls me that one more time, I cannot answer for my actions.
His hand slides around my waist to guide me down these gilded halls I still get lost in. For once, I barely notice.
I thought…no, I hoped that Killian would ride in and save me from my fate. For a moment, it seemed like my dream was coming true. He was magnificent on that black charger of his.
And then the way he glared at me shattered every fantasy I’ve been clinging to for the past ten days.
His disdain felt like being slapped in the face with a glove—both a challenge and an insult.
“I shall escort you to what I trust will be the final fitting for your gown.”
There’s an edge to the prince’s tone that tells me I’ve reached the limits of his patience with making changes to the design.
“I only get one wedding day, Alistair. Surely you can understand I want it to be perfect.”
My flirtatiousness is always forced, but now it sounds false even to my own ears. He’s narcissistic enough to ignore it. If the possibility that I don’t want him has occurred to Alistair, he’s already dismissed it out of hand.
I lay my gloved hand over his and smile up at him. “I’m still trying to learn modern fashion. A hundred years ago, skirts were fuller and sleeves were puffier. I’m unaccustomed to the leaner silhouette of today.”
Ladies these days have appalling taste. The current fashion is for sleek skirts that look fine from the front, with a bump on your bottom to support a bustle covered in beads and bows. That was the dressmaker’s first design. I tried to be tactful in refusing to wear it, but I hurt her feelings and she’s taken it out on me with pins ever since. Fortunately, now that we’ve agreed upon the basic design, she has left most of the final alterations to her seamstresses.
“You would look beautiful in any gown, my sweet. Just pick something.”
Alistair skims his hand down my arm and grabs my hand, halting me as I turn to enter the dressmaker’s workshop.
He brings one hand to my cheek. A shudder ripples up my spine. I smile to suppress any outward hint of how much I dread our wedding night.
“Sir Ironheart will be here to escort you when you have finished. You will either be in your rooms, alone, or he will accompany you anywhere you need to go. You are not to leave his side until the wedding. Understood?”
My lips part in surprise. “Why him?”
“Considering what happened to you the last time you were about to be married, Rose, it’s safest to keep you under guard night and day until we can be fully united.”
I suppress the urge to snatch away my hand when he presses a lingering kiss to my palm. Yuck. “That doesn’t answer my question, Your Highness. Isn’t there anyone else who could protect me?”
“There is no one else I trust with your life.” Alistair’s eyes narrow fractionally.
“What’s the matter, my sweet? I thought you had a fondness for Sir Ironheart.”
It’s more than fondness. It’s an ache that scrapes me hollow. But shoving us together like this is a test. He’s looking for an excuse to condemn his own friend.
That’s good enough reason for me to leave Killian alone. I won’t, though I should.
What if I can tempt him?
I shouldn’t do it. The cost of being caught would be excruciating for both of us.
Yet as I stare into the abyss of a marriage I don’t want, I know I’m going to try in spite of Killian’s stark resentment toward me and the potential consequences for us both. This is my life, and if I don’t do something to change its course, I will have to live with the fact that I sleepwalked into a fate I never asked for.
Perhaps the reason the monsters are drawn to me is that inside, I’m not the meek little princess everyone expects. There’s a streak of darkness inside me that’s pushing me toward the knight.
I’ll have three days to show Killian that I don’t desire a prince. I want the dark knight who slayed monsters to reach me. Part of me still lies dormant, and I want him to be the one to awaken me in every way.