Chapter 61
Zarek
ANNULLED
Sleep, of course, is out of the question.
I spent the day trying to act like a clueless royal guard, wandering around the grounds, making vague, half-hearted offers to help with preparations for the trip to the palace of Marion.
The prince’s men mostly ignored me, although there were a few rude comments about the cock-sucking king I serve.
I responded to those with a shrug, and I cataloged the hunting camp.
Hiding places, exit routes. Likely spots for an ambush.
I managed to slip unnoticed into one of the old storage sheds in the late afternoon, and I finally found a few daggers.
Thank the gods. I sighed with relief as I stood in the dusty sunlight inside the shed, testing the balance on a small, rusty dagger, and offering a silent prayer to any gods who might still be listening that my wife still had my blade on her thigh.
Ridiculous. I snort at myself, then cross my arms over my chest and walk through the darkness of my room to stand by the window.
I’m in the small bedroom at the top of the stairs again, although this is far too nice a room to give a guard.
Anura led me here after dinner, then gave me a look that said trying to argue about it wouldn’t be worth my time.
Still. I worry the prince’s men will start wondering why a guard was given a room on the top floor.
I rock forward on my toes and peer through the gloom into the courtyard.
Someone is standing guard in the shadows behind the massive lodge.
There’s another guard at the bottom of the stairs, not necessarily keeping people from leaving, but also not just there for the hell of it.
If I had to get out of here, I’d climb through the window, follow the roof, then drop down by the stables—
There’s a knock on the door. I freeze, my hand dropping to the blade tucked into the waistband of my pants.
“Zarek?” a woman whispers. “Are you there?”
Heat and a strange sense of relief pour through me.
I hadn’t realized how much I missed her until I heard her voice.
I open the door, and there she is. The princess of Marion is in a dark robe and a light green dress that’s extremely tight around her chest. I clench my jaw and try to ignore the way my cock suddenly makes his presence known.
“What is it?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”
She frowns, and I realize too late that I’m being a rude asshole.
“Sorry,” I say, stepping out of the doorway. “Please. Come in.”
I wave my hand at the darkness inside my room, which probably looks about as inviting as a tomb.
I try to remember the last place I saw matches as Lilias walks into the room.
She waits until I find them and light the lamp before she closes the door.
I face her in the soft, golden glow of the lamplight.
Her hair curls around her shoulders, and her lips part slightly.
Gods, I remember the taste of those lips, the press of her body against mine.
I want to touch her so desperately it hurts, a deep ache pulsing in the core of me.
I clear my throat, then turn away, grateful for the shadows that will hide the way my body is betraying me.
“Princess,” I say, stepping backward and waving awkwardly at one of the two chairs in the room. “What do you need?”
Lilias sits down, then takes a few minutes to arrange her skirts and robe. It can’t be intentional, the way her dress cuts low across her perfect breasts and the laces catch the light. I pull the second chair into the shadows and sit down, facing her.
When she finally turns to me, her eyes are wide, and she looks almost hesitant, like she’s expecting bad news. Or like she’s delivering it.
“How— How are you feeling?” she asks.
I frown at the odd question. Why in the nine hells does that matter?
“Fine,” I reply.
Her gaze lingers on the remnants of my black eye, then traces my split lip and drops to my chest. I suppress the urge to squirm under her gaze.
There’s a mirror in here, just above the washbasin, so I know exactly how shitty I look right now.
The swelling around my eye is gone, but the lingering bruising still makes me look about as attractive as a lump of carrion on the side of the road.
Maybe that’s why I didn’t light the lamp when Anura led me back to my room. I don’t even want to look at myself, let alone have my wife see me.
But she’s not my wife, some nasty part of my mind whispers. Legally, she’s married to the prince of Dungal.
I glance up. Lilias is looking at me like she trusts me exactly as far as she could throw me. I try to smile without cracking open my split lip.
“You don’t have to travel with me,” she says suddenly. “You’re still injured. You could stay here, recover with my brother—”
I laugh before I can stop myself. It’s sharp and short, almost a snort.
“Princess,” I say. “Do you think I want to hang around a bunch of soldiers who were just attacked by Vsenrog? Soldiers who have nothing to do but gossip and wonder why the princess’s ragged guard got a room at the top of the lodge, and if maybe it has something to do with the man from Vsenrog she just married? ”
Lilias frowns. She looks like she’s trying to talk herself out of something.
“We could tell them who you are,” she says slowly, as though the thought just occurred to her. “If they know you’re my— You’re a prince. Well, they’d have to treat you differently.”
I laugh again. Her cheeks burn, and I have to stop myself from reaching forward and taking her hand in mine.
“It’s a nice idea,” I say.
“No, it’s not,” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re right. I just— I don’t want to force you to travel when you’re hurt.”
“You’re not forcing me to do a thing,” I say. I almost add that I’m not that hurt, but something tells me she’d be able to spot that for the bald-faced lie that it is.
Her expression softens, and a horrible, horrible idea bubbles up from the dark recesses of my mind.
It’s about as attractive as biting a blade, but when will I get another chance?
I certainly won’t be alone with the princess again while we’re traveling, and I seriously doubt we’ll be able to have a private conversation in the Marion palace as she’s trying to break the news to her father that his kingdom has been invaded.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” I say.
I regret the words as soon as they fly out of my lips. Lilias watches me with wide eyes. Lamplight flickers across her exquisite lips and the curve of her breasts.
I told her I’d be honest with her, didn’t I? My gods, I’m an idiot.
“With all of this,” I stammer, waving my hand at the space between us in a pathetic attempt to convey the mess between our kingdoms, “our marriage— Being married to me, I mean. It’s not— It’s not in your best interest.”
Her eyes shine in the lamplight. She blinks rapidly, then turns toward the window. Her hands twist together in her lap.
“I don’t understand,” she says in a soft voice.
I sigh and run my hand through my hair. I just have to tell her, godsdamn it. I just have to say that I’m not a prince, that our marriage is a sham, and that my entire life is a lie.
I clear my throat.
“You don’t need to be married to me,” I say. “Not anymore.”
She turns back to me, blinking like there’s something in her eye. “But we are married. We toured both of our kingdoms. We can’t undo that.”
“It could be annulled,” I reply.
The words feel like a dagger sliding between my ribs. Her mouth opens, and I force myself to push on.
“Our marriage hasn’t been consummated,” I continue. “Your father could annul it. Or any priest of Mirdia.”
She pulls in a quick, short breath, cutting off my words, then smooths down her skirt and comes to her feet.
“I don’t have anything to offer,” I say, as she looks down at me with an expression on her face that makes me think she got lost and stumbled into this room by accident. “Not now. Not anymore.”
She pulls in another quick breath, fast and sharp like a cry, then turns to the door.
“And you could be free,” I say, almost under my breath.
My wife pulls open the door, steps into the hallway, and then slams the door shut behind her. The lamp on the wall gutters, casting strange shadows around the small, lonely room.
Well, that could not have gone any worse.
And I didn’t even tell her the fucking truth.