Chapter Eighteen #3
I’d agonized over that particular point. Using my magic meant…but thank all the gods I didn’t need him tonight. I’d have a day and a half to brace myself for the encounter. And surely it’d get easier and less overwhelming with time. It had to, or I’d lose what I had left of my mind.
“I want to write letters to my family.” My voice had started to shake enough that he had to notice, but I couldn’t control it anymore.
“Visit them once it’s feasible.” I sucked in a breath, spots swimming in my vision.
“And I want you to leave me alone, too. You’ll be a model husband in public.
In private, you’ll—do what I need you to do for me to keep my magic. That’s all.”
Stefan’s flinch was almost minute enough that I missed it, but otherwise he was almost unnaturally still.
“You’ll have it, all of it,” he said. “To the letter. You have my word. I have one request for you in return, even though I know I don’t have the right to ask you for anything.”
“You have the right to command me, if you choose to assert it,” I whispered. I almost wished he would. If he could only return to the callous, uncaring bastard he’d been on our wedding day, then I wouldn’t have wished, pitifully, for anything else.
“Never,” he spat, his face twisting into something like disgust. “I don’t blame you for thinking—never.
No. I’m asking. Please call off His Eminence.
Tell him not to gossip. That you mean to try to make a go of your marriage after all.
That I’m being an indulgent husband. Whatever he wants to hear.
Make a donation to the Temple of Ennolu in our names to smooth it over. ”
“Bribe His Eminence?” I gasped. “Surely not!”
Stefan let out another bitter little laugh.
“That’s what shocks you? You really are—if you want to be a Nevaian courtier, then unfortunately, that’s the way things are done here.
You used His Eminence for your own ends.
Now you pay for it. Like I’m doing now. Paying for my actions.
At least the price you’re paying him is only money. If you will.”
Only money. Which I now had an endless supply of, at least by my lifelong standards. What price was Stefan suggesting he’d be paying? His self-respect? Well, that made two of us. He deserved it. The sickness in the pit of my stomach twisted tight. I nodded, all I could manage.
“Thank you. You’re generous.” His lips quirked.
“And I don’t mean with money.” He moved at last, turning toward the door, his motions slow and heavy.
He put his hand on the doorknob, staring down at it as he said, “You’ll summon me when you require my—services?
And otherwise, funds will be available to you.
And the carriage. And anything else you need, including my escort when appropriate.
I’ll see my father right away, and I’ll make it clear that he’s not to come anywhere near you, and that any further meddling will result in consequences he won’t like.
Is there, fuck, Remi. Is there anything else? Anything at all?”
I hadn’t imagined the note of hope in his voice, had I?
It resonated in my chest like the chime of a temple bell.
But the few feet of floor between us felt like a yawning, widening chasm, impossible to ever cross again, a perfect representation of our marriage.
How would he touch me after this? I ought to take my potion after all. If I even could.
“No,” I whispered. Another lie. Another piece of me chipping away.
“Then good night.” Stefan stood there, perfectly still, for long enough that I thought he meant to say something else after all.
My heart thumped in a wild rhythm, knocking into my ribs.
I hated him. He’d tricked me and used me and fucked me and made me almost believe in his sincerity.
And if he apologized again, if he apologized and touched me, I might hate him, but…
if he only would, even though I didn’t want it, rather than leaving me standing here more alone than I’d ever been…
Stefan sighed, turned the knob, and left without another word or even a look.
I sank into the sofa, leaning down onto my knees and burying my face in my arms, sucking in frantic breaths that didn’t go anywhere near the bottom of my lungs.
The tears I’d been keeping down finally welled up, dripping out to soak my sleeves and mark the fabric.
It didn’t matter. Now I could buy as many silk coats as I wanted.
A sob tore out of my throat, almost a laugh if it hadn’t hurt so much.
Finally, I’d been a part of a negotiation about my future rather than an object to be moved about at the whims of others, a thing to be used.
It should’ve been immensely satisfying to take control of my own destiny, even in a small way.
To have outwitted Stefan and his father.
To have learned the truth rather than being fed lie after lie.
Instead, I felt nothing but an emptiness that the fine clothing, fine wine, and society of the capital, the meaningless fillips that I’d bargained for, could never fill.