13. Chapter 13 #2
“I wouldn’t have to flay you with questions if you’d answer me the first time around,” I remind him pointedly. I yank away my wrists, only to realize that the rawness is gone, and my skin is no longer pink. My lips part with a small gasp. “Wait, did you just heal me?”
He shoots me a knowing look. “Worry less about my magic, and more about the pertinent matters at hand, like the strategic art of keeping your tongue.”
“I hate you,” I tell him.
His expression shifts to something that looks a lot like… pain? Love? Heartache? Or perhaps he swallowed a bug? It’s hard to tell, honestly.
After a moment of painstaking silence—which only makes me wish I’d grabbed the skewer when I’d had the chance—he finally says, “I’m being serious about my sister.
She could have you incarcerated without food and water, shipped across the Leviathan Sea and dumped into a cage full of vipers.
So long as she doesn’t mortally wound you, she won’t be breaking our little agreement.
You must be more careful when she is near. ”
Unfortunately, I fear that my breathing is no longer meeting the expectations of my lungs. Because my next words come out in a wheeze. “What agreement?”
Augustine’s mouth falls open, as if caught in a snare. He looks like he wants to explain, but he can’t. “I hear the cheese is divine. Are you sure you don’t want to give it a try?” he asks.
“No, I don’t want to give it a try,” I spat at him.
“You seem upset,” he says, the severity in his stare causing the rest of the dance floor to melt away, until all that’s left is me, him, and our silhouettes, which are colliding in a heated exchange right now.
“Upset? Me?” I place a hand against my storm-riddled heart, take a step backward, and accidentally sidestep over an urn stuffed with candy-colored flowers.
He catches the urn before it tips over, then reaches out to steady me.
“Why would I be upset?” I continue, my voice hoarse.
“It’s not like you betrayed me and imprisoned me in this castle or anything.
In fact, I love being held captive against my will. It’s freakin’ exhilarating!”
“I’m not holding you captive,” he insists, hesitantly releasing his grip on my waist. “You’re free to leave any time you wish. I’m simply warning you that my sister has never been one to turn down a chase. She will follow you to the edges of the universe if that’s what it takes.”
“And who put me in this situation in the first place? You did, you dismal turnip!”
He stares at me in stunned silence.
I roll my eyes. “The least you could do is explain why you chose me! Why not someone else?”
His furtive lips tighten. Silence.
“No? Well, fuck me then,” I grumble.
He cocks a brow.
“Do not…” I shove a finger against his sturdy chest, “even think about it.” But as I storm away, I get an inkling that he already has.
“May I have this dance?” A wiry man dressed in a sharp tuxedo grabs me by the arm.
Typically, I would shrug off such an advance, but right now, I’m feeling frisky.
Without a word, I clutch the stranger’s hand and allow him to pull me onto the middle of the dance floor, where he dips me, twirls me, and pulls me closer to his body.
Along the way, I nearly trip on my own feet, twice.
“My goodness, you are stunning. Clumsy, but stunning. What is your name?” he asks breathlessly.
“Shadow?” I respond in question, suddenly distracted by a pair of very stormy eyes watching me from the shadows.
“That’s not a real name,” the stranger chuckles as the music comes to a sputtering halt.
“Yeah? And what might your name be?” I ask, spotting Lily twirling on the dance floor adjacent to us. She lets out a little hiccup, then collides into the queen’s arms with a giggle.
Oh dear, how much has she had to drink?
“I’m Lord Quiddleton, Duke of Malgrave. But you can call me Q,” the man says proudly, puffing out his chest. The music starts up again, slower this time.
I side-eye Q, noticing that his eyes are the color of dusk along a bronze horizon, and there’s a cheerfulness about him that I’d like to bottle up for myself.
But the rest of him is plain and uneventful, which is unfortunate, because I was about ready to traipse off to Malgrave with him, so long as he gets me out of this mess.
Instead, I settle on saying, “Well, that’s not a real name either, is it… Q?”
Q erupts in a roar of laughter. “I suppose not,” he admits.
He spins me again, this time slower, which allows me a moment to survey Maxine and Rhaziel, who are dancing on the other side of the ballroom.
Maxine seems entirely focused on where to step next, and Rhaziel seems entirely distracted by the other women twirling around him.
Although I can hardly begin to understand why.
Maxine looks magnificent. Like a bronze angel who lost her wings and tumbled down from the sky.
“I must admit, you’re rather strange for a princess,” Q concludes as he dips me once more. “Please don’t take offense! It’s quite refreshing.” At the peak of my dip, when all the blood is rushing to my head, he asks, “Are you looking for a husband?”
I stand up straight. “Whatever gave you that idea?” Unfortunately, I’d been so distracted by the evening’s turn of events that I’d nearly forgotten all about the sweeping marriage mandate and the consequences that will ensue for all the mortals who don’t follow it.
If the queen is still here by the seventh sunset, it’ll be more than just me who’s killed.
Unmarried people like Q will pay the price as well. I swallow roughly at the thought.
Q tucks his voice tenderly into my ear. “I was hoping…” He delves out a string of discombobulated thoughts before adding, “Of course, we wouldn’t…
we wouldn’t have to be in love. It would simply be a strategic marriage for survival purposes.
Although, if love were to grow… well, I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t be upset,” he blunders off.
The woman that I once was would’ve taken this opportunity and ran.
I would’ve accepted Lord Quiddleton’s marriage proposal in a heartbeat.
I would’ve let him whisk me away to the scorched realms of Malgrave, where according to legend, the red-hot sand burns beneath the sun.
I would’ve tucked myself away in his manor made of clay—because that’s what I imagine his manor is made out of—and I would’ve pretended to be happy. But not anymore. That girl is gone.
“Move,” Augustine growls. Poor Lord Quiddleton takes one look at Augustine’s face, turns blue with terror, and nearly faints.
“What are you doing?” I protest with a stomp as Lord Quiddleton rushes away. “He was my date for the ball.”
“I’m your date for the ball,” Augustine says.
“I thought you said that I don’t have to marry you. Or did you forget about that?” I storm off.
“You don’t have to marry me,” he says, catching up to me in a few easy strides. “But you also won’t be marrying anyone else.”
I spin around to face him head-on. “You know, there’s this uncanny thing called free will. Have you gods ever heard of it?”
He furrows his brows, his expression shifting like I’ve said something wrong. “You would really rather marry that insufferable man than me?”
“The Duke of Malgrave has more riches than I can ever imagine,” I acknowledge. “And most of all, he wouldn’t lock me inside a castle with his psychopathic sister.”
“You’d be surprised,” Augustine huffs. “That family is a bunch of quacks.”
“Even so, at least he wouldn’t lie about his intentions,” I insist.
Augustine flexes his fingers at his sides. “I have never once lied to you.”
“Yet you didn’t exactly tell me the truth either. Now, if you’ll please excuse me, I need to go clear my palate of this conversation by getting belligerently drunk.”