Chapter 10
Lor
Aoife stared at me, her golden eyes fiery as she raised her chin. “No. I already have a dance partner . . .” She trailed off as she turned to see Ambrose already walking away. “Bloody coward,” she muttered.
The music slowed, everyone cheering as they found partners and began swaying.
I raised my eyebrows and lifted my hand in a gesture for Aoife to take it.
As usual she wore no shoes, her feet bare.
I didn’t care, necessarily, but to me it just showed a lack of control, a lack of propriety of any kind from this woman.
Arthon had berated me for much lesser crimes.
It had been after a fight, a raid we’d done to undermine the brotherhood. I’d gotten blood on my shirt and hadn’t had time to wash it. Arthon had screamed at me in front of all the rebels.
If people are going to see you as a leader, they have to respect you. Who’s going to respect someone who can’t even keep their shirt clean? You’re not worthy to be my replacement. You’re not worthy of anything.
He’d spit at me and stormed away, and I’d never forgotten to wash a shirt again.
Aoife’s eyes narrowed, but she dipped her head and placed her hand in mine, her skin rough, scarred, no doubt from the thousands of years she was enslaved by Fairwitch. I wound my arm around her back, tugging her close to ensure she heard every word of what I had to say.
“I can’t believe you went behind my back like this,” I murmured.
“Our people needed some joy. Something to bring them together instead of the endless meetings and edicts and talks. My people needed it more than anything. We’ve had to follow all your traditions, celebrate your holidays, watch as you mortals worship the very godwitches who enslaved us.
It was time for something to remind us that we do have our own rich history. ”
I’d banned celebrating any godwitches who enslaved the Fair Folk.
There were many godwitches and demi-godwitches who’d opposed the slavery.
I’d taken time to learn about them from the Fair Folk and my brother’s wife, Enid, who was a demi-godwitch herself and the only deity who didn’t travel to the Otherworld.
“You’ve been invited to every meeting, every council session, every talk,” I said as I spun her around.
“It’s not my fault you chose not to attend, or you did attend and spent the entire time staring out the windows, paying no attention.
You have a voice, Aoife. I’ve done everything to ensure you have a voice. ”
“As long as you approve of my voice,” she said sharply.
Godwitches. This again.
“When I got that ridiculous edict from Castle, do you know what I did?” I asked.
She stayed silent, lips pursed.
“I ignored it. And it was probably naive of me, but I figured you would too. I figured you’d realized that Castle chose us for a reason.”
She scoffed. “Yes, because that’s worked out well so far. We can’t even be in the same room without getting into some kind of argument.”
I licked my lips, arm tightening around her thick waist. “And whose fault is that? Today was important, Aoife. I’ve spent weeks planning this, had this entire building erected for the purpose of doing monthly town halls where our people feel like they have a voice.”
“Maybe that’s the problem,” she said. “The Fair Folk don’t really have a voice. Just like I don’t really have a voice. You listen, but do you actually hear them?”
I heard the unasked question. Do you actually hear me?
My teeth ground together as we stepped backward, swaying with the music.
I held myself to a higher standard than anyone else.
I tried to be the best I could be, and yet, Aoife acted like I was absolute scum.
The worst of the worst, and it made me only want to work harder, to do more. To show her I wasn’t the enemy.
“I do hear them. Just like I hear you. If you wanted to have a dance, you could’ve come to me.”
A harsh laugh escaped her. Just moments ago, she’d thrown her head back and laughed, with a smile so luminous it lit the whole room. Now that same smile morphed into something dark and sinister. “Come to you? You mean how I came to you about the schedule change that you refused to sign?”
“I told you—”
“Or how about when I requested that Fair Folk are still able to portal freely outside of Fairwitch Isle.”
“That’s not a good idea for so many reasons—”
“Or when I asked if I could go into the forest to do my training.”
“We have a perfectly good training area right inside the castle.”
She raised a brow. “You wouldn’t have listened. You would’ve come up with some reason why it couldn’t work. Or it wasn’t the right time. So I did what was best.”
“For who? Your ego?” I asked.
Her nostrils flared.
“You’re up to something,” I said. “It’s not just about this dance. It’s about that scroll we both got from Castle. So what, Aoife? You think you’re going to make me angry enough that I’ll cede the crown?”
Her smile widened, more conniving now than a sneer. “No. I’m going to show you that I’m what’s best for this kingdom. That I’m meant to rule. Alone.”
She was delusional.
“I could shut this dance down right now,” I said. “The people respect me. They know I have their best interest at heart. They’d listen.”
I’d worked hard to prove myself to the Fair Folk, to show them that I truly cared about their plight, their curse, their history. Everything. Because I did care.
“You could,” she said, “but I’ll throw a fit. I’ll make a spectacle out of the whole thing. Don’t you dare take this from me, Lor.”
Her voice shook, an underlying emotion bubbling up with those words.
Maybe this wasn’t just about getting at me.
Maybe this dance meant something to her that I didn’t understand.
But, damnit, she’d never tell me. I knew virtually nothing about the woman I’d been married to for two years—other than she hated me.
I’d tried to get her to open up about her past, her likes, her dislikes, but I could never get past whatever walls she put up.
I pressed my lips together. “We’re not enemies, Aoife. I still believe we can find a way to work together, to be the king and queen Castle wants us to be.”
She looked away, jaw locked. “We’ll never be husband and wife.”
I knew that. We were too different. Or too similar. Or maybe too much of both.
“You said Castle chose both of us to be its rulers.” My wife’s face hardened. “Well now Castle is asking one of us to cede the crown. Clearly it’s changed its mind.”
She was so stubborn. So sure I was out to get her.
“You’re impossible,” I said, knowing my anger was getting the best of me.
“I truly cannot imagine what Castle ever saw in you.” I spun her sharply, and she clutched tight to me, nails digging into my shoulder.
“I have yet to see the great warrior queen I’ve heard so much about.
All I see is a woman determined to do everything in her power to undermine her husband, even at the cost of her people. ”
“How dare you,” she said. “You know nothing of the sacrifices I’ve made.”
“Maybe that’s because you won’t talk to me. About anything.”
“I wonder why,” she said.
Someone cleared their throat, and I jolted.
At some point during our argument, the music had stopped, everybody staring at me and Aoife as we still danced.
I’d forgotten there were people here. It had all faded away, and I’d lost myself.
Something I absolutely hated. I needed to remain in control, to maintain the image of king our people needed.
For the greater good. Just like Arthon taught me.
Aoife’s eyes widened as she looked around, then pushed herself out of my arms. People shifted from foot to foot, avoiding eye contact while some murmured and pointed.
“We danced like this once before, Aoife,” I said, trying to fix this situation, like I was always fixing the messes Aoife made.
“We danced at our wedding, and it was nice.” I sighed.
The town hall was already ruined, so I might as well give in this one time.
“Let’s try again,” I whispered, holding out my hand.
Aoife swallowed thickly, and I wondered if she was remembering our wedding right now, too, the one where I held her in my arms and enjoyed it. “Maybe,” she said, “but that was a lifetime ago, and this dance? It’s over now.”
She spun on her heel and stalked away, leaving me in the middle of an empty dance floor.