Chapter Seven
VIOLET
The prince crosses his arms and leans back. His eyes bore into me. The night forged silver circlet he wears glints in the low light.
He is certainly in a foul mood. Though I can hardly guess the reason, I’m careful to keep my expression neutral. It’s all I can think of to avoid making it worse.
The man at his side watches me with a sort of bored curiosity. It’s unnerving to have the attention of others on me with such a singular focus.
I do my best to ignore it and lift the curtain to peer outside. We pass familiar buildings and landmarks of the home I thought I would live and die in.
My heart sinks as realization crashes into me. I made a mistake. The prince promised to let me live. He never promised a cure—he doesn’t even know about my condition. He won’t kill me or sacrifice me, but can he fix my heart?
I doubt it. I have exhausted every possibility, every source. There is no human way to heal me, so what are the chances the fae possess the solution I need?
Will I live long enough to see my parents freed from their enchanted prison? And my friends…
Will I live to see any of the people I know and love again?
Are Talya and Sebastian upset about how I left?
Saying goodbye to them in person would have been too hard.
They would have demanded answers I couldn’t give.
We would have clung to each other, my fear getting the better of me, and Talya would have defied the prince outright to keep me from going to my death.
No. I cannot think this way. He swore to keep me alive.
I sigh and relax in my seat, staring down at my clasped hands. When the ground changes from cobblestone to smoothed, packed dirt, I know we have left the walls of the city,
If this strained atmosphere is going to continue, then I hope the journey will be quick.
About an hour in, the man on the prince’s right clears his throat. He waits until I look up before addressing me. “My Lady?”
He is beautiful, in the same way all fae are, with their sharp features and long limbs. He wears formal robes that are an echo of the prince’s, in the same blues and silver, though not nearly as ornate.
“You can address me by my name,” I say. Being given the title of Lady feels like a mockery. I am not truly the chosen bride.
He looks uncertain, flicking his eyes toward the prince, who is currently feigning as if he’s not paying attention.
Pinning the prince with a knowing glower, I say. “You don’t know my name, do you?”
“Of course I do,” he bites out, then turns his face away.
I roll my eyes, knowing I caught him in a lie. I don’t know his either because neither of us bothered to introduce ourselves at any point in our previous meetings.
Before I can address the other man, whom I assume to be his personal guard, the prince speaks first, “Her name is Violet.”
I blink at him in surprise.
The prince lifts his chin a little higher, his nose wrinkles in distaste. “It would be nearly impossible not to know when your acquaintances were shouting your name at the top of their lungs.”
Determined not to allow his grumpy disposition to make this situation worse, I ignore him and address his guard, glancing uncomfortably between us.
“Violet Hawthorn,” I say, letting them both know that I am aware that giving them my full name does not grant them power over me as it would with fae.
It wasn’t until after we made our bargain and he departed that I realized we never introduced ourselves. If he didn’t ask then, I doubt the prince would deign to ask my full name at this point.
“Hawthorn,” the guard says, testing the sound of it. “An interesting surname.”
I shrug. “Thank you. I inherited it from my parents.”
He laughs.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know either of your names. What should I call you?” I ask, as if I am entirely unaware that it’s a pointed remark toward the prince.
“I am His Highness’s captain of the guard, and second. Captain or Mingi is fine.”
“You may address me as ‘My Prince’ or ‘Your Highness.’ There is no need for you to address me by anything else,” the prince says, without bothering to look in my direction.
I offer him a fake smile.
Anyone who knows a fae’s true name will have unfettered power over them. They have all gone by their given names for so long that most true names have been lost to time.
There is no reason for him to avoid giving me his name, as it grants me no power over him without the other, except out of pettiness.
Mingi clears his throat again. “Yes, well, I wanted to inform you that we will stop at an inn shortly after nightfall and you will be given clothes to change into.”
“Are we staying the night somewhere? How far are we going? I thought you traveled by the fae roads.”
The prince scoffs under his breath as if I should already know the answers.
“We do, but it is not safe for you to use them until you are bound. This will give you the chance to wash and make yourself presentable for your arrival at the palace. In other circumstances, we would ride through the night and arrive before dawn,” Mingi explains.
I nod. It wasn’t intended as such, but it’s hard not to feel insulted when I’ve taken the time to bathe and pick out my best dress.
Of course, even the most expensive dress in Firnhallow would pale in comparison to one befitting royal standards.
The carriage comes to a halt, and I’m startled awake. I sit up straight and look out the window. The light is fading, but it’s still early evening. We can’t possibly be near our destination just yet.
“I will see what the holdup is,” Mingi says, as he exits.
The prince glowers at me as if my very existence is an offense to him. “I trust you had a pleasant nap?” His tone makes it clear he means the opposite.
I groan. “What have I done to upset you? I did what you asked of me so far. I haven’t pushed you to tell me details I need to pull off this—this—” I wave my hands around to indicate everything.
“Farce?” he supplies.
“Yes!” I agree in a harsh whisper.
“You know exactly what you have done—the reason why it is you sitting across from me and not someone more suitable.” Each word is spat out like poison-laced needles.
I take two calming breaths. It won’t help matters if we both lose our tempers.
“Yes—and I am paying for it now,” I say slowly. “I am doing all that you ask. Continuing to be nasty toward me will not make things easier for either of us.”
The prince leans forward. “Do you think I miss the way you look at me with disgust behind that pleasant facade? You might fool the rest of the world when you bat your lashes, but not me.”
The way I look at him?
He sits back, turning his face away. “You are no different than the rest of them. They would gladly take my head for a prize if given half a chance.”
All my irritation vaporizes at the underlying hurt in his angry words.
When the entourage arrived, no one booed him or committed any acts that could be interpreted as treasonous or unkind. Everyone obeyed and acted as expected.
Surely, he didn’t expect to be loved. He is far too observant for that.
It’s understandable that we fear him. Every wife he’s chosen has ended up dead to appease the dragon that terrorizes the cities and towns of the kingdom. Though little good their sacrifices have done. The dragon’s attacks have only increased in frequency over time.
His words speak to an old wound. He hears hate in the voices of others and sees it in furtive glances, regardless of whether it’s there or not.
Had my earlier silence, caused by fear and uncertainty… added to that?
It’s an irrational feeling, not entirely unfounded, that I can relate to. However, my experience is with pity rather than hate.
I smooth out wrinkles in my skirt.
“Everyone has always been pleasant to my face most of my life,” I say.
“When I was old enough to work, the only ones willing to hire me were family friends. It was around that time when I finally understood the looks for what they were.” I sigh and flick a quick look at him.
He listens, his head cocked. “Most people don’t know how to handle what they do not understand, and it can make them seem uncaring even when the opposite is true. ”
From the corner of my eye, I can see him shift, turning his full attention on me. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Making conversation, I suppose.” I shrug.
The carriage door opens, putting an abrupt end to my attempt to ease his mood.
“What is going on?” the prince asks.
Mingi stands with utter calm. “The bridge ahead is out.” He looks over his shoulder, then back at the prince, shaking his head in answer to an unspoken question. “The men are looking into the cause. It will be a little while before the repairs are done.”
The prince nods. After the door is closed again, he sits back in his seat and resumes glaring.
Whatever progress I could have made is gone.
His walls are firmly back in place. Instead of trying again, I choose to ignore it in favor of trying to gather what information I can while we are stuck in close quarters.
“Did your previous wives die helping you this way?”
“Hardly,” he scoffs.
“Then, how did they die?”
He shrugs, then shifts forward. “Perhaps it was the dragon,” he says, moving closer until he is bending over me, caging me in with his hands braced on the back of the seat.
He is playing with me. The fae are infamous for toying with humans. I stand my ground, refusing to be intimidated.
A chill radiates off him as if he were made of ice instead of flesh and blood. He lowers his face until his mouth hovers over mine. His breath caresses my lips when he speaks. “Or perhaps I stole their lives with my cursed kiss.”
His eyes spark. The same feeling that washed over me when he tracked me down swallows me up again now. A brush of something, an invisible touch wrapping around me, squeezing me as if demanding my compliance.
I bring my hands up and shove his chest. He backs up and drops down into his seat, blinking at me.