24. You Need to Win
You Need to Win
Scarlet
T he clash of weapons fades into a distant murmur as the crowds gradually disperse from the arena, the day's exhibitions drawing to a close. I linger behind, feigning interest in one of the vacant training rings as the competitors and spectators filter out around me.
My gaze continually strays to the now-empty king's viewing box, and a strange sense of loss tugs at me.
I'm the last to eventually exit the shadowed expanse of the arena. The walk back through the winding city streets allows my mind to wander, replaying every heated look, every charged moment shared with the king in an endless, dizzying loop.
My feet steer me not to the dorms, but to my family home. It’s been too long since it was a place that I felt safe and like I belonged, but it is mine. I need to own up and take control of things before they get even more out of hand.
Raised voices and clattering objects greets me as I reluctantly step inside. Squaring my shoulders, I make my way towards the sitting room from which the disturbance seems to originate.
Stepmother stands in the center of the chaos, eyes blazing and lips pursed in her signature look of disapproval as she stares down my bickering stepsisters. At my entrance, her ire pivots towards me in a sweeping shift of demeanor, a serpent-like smile spread thinly across her face.
"What are you doing here," she simpers in saccharine tones that instantly set me on edge. "I thought you would be gone the entire tournament. Have you already been eliminated? You never were very good at much." Her gaze holds a knowing look tinged with veiled menace.
Refusing to be cowed, I lift my chin in silent defiance. "I have only stopped by for a moment. May I have a word alone?"
"Of course. In fact, I feel we should have a private discussion to realign expectations," she states, gesturing towards the study with an imperious wave. "Girls, see to having tea brought for us."
An uneasy silence falls over the room as my stepsisters eye me with undisguised dislike before scurrying to obey. Forcing an insouciant expression, I trail behind Stepmother, bracing for the onslaught to come.
She wastes no time once the study door closes behind us. "I hope you realize how very fortunate you are that Lord Greystone has developed...certain intentions regarding you," she begins without preamble, mouth pursing contemplatively. "His status and connections could secure our family's future where your own failings have left us perilously vulnerable."
The words are like a slap to the face, driving the breath from my lungs in a harsh exhale. "My failings?" I echo, dumbfounded.
"Silence!" she hisses, palm cracking against my cheek with enough force to make my head ring. I taste copper on my tongue as my jaw clenches stubbornly against the wave of pain.
"You ungrateful wretch," Stepmother seethes, livid eyes boring into me. "Your foolish whims and defiance have cost us more than you could ever comprehend. Your father's legacy - this estate and all it represents - is nearly lost."
A leaden knot of dread forms in the pit of my stomach as her words seem to echo from somewhere far away. Surely she doesn't mean...?
“What did you do?” I spit out.
Her expression softens into one of feigned remorse. "The truth is, I made certain...investments in an attempt to shore up our dwindling assets. Very ill-timed investments as it turned out."
She pauses to let the weight of her admission sink in. My throat works convulsively as I struggle to process the implication. The estate...my inheritance...in jeopardy?
"For my lack of prudence, I accept full responsibility," Stepmother continues smoothly, an undercurrent of steel beneath her placating tones. "But that still leaves us in a rather precarious position. One that could be handily resolved were you to embrace the future Lord Greystone has so generously arranged for you."
My pulse thunders in my ears as the floor seems to tilt dangerously beneath my feet. After everything—the missions, the brutality, the deceptions—it all may be for naught?
A tremulous tide of rage surfaces then, shoving aside my disorientation as I level a look of pure venom at the woman before me. "You selfish, grasping viper," I spit through gritted teeth.
Stepmother's expression shutters closed, mouth flattening into a severe line as she straightens to her full domineering height. "Mind your tongue, girl," she hisses in clipped tones.
Her next words are slow, measured, and laced with serpentine certainty. "Accept Lord Greystone's proposal and a portion of your inheritance may yet be preserved for you. Defy me..." Her gaze grows flinty and merciless. "And all shall be forfeit - your wealth, your status, even this home stripped away to settle the debts."
“What will you do if you lose the house? You have nowhere to go,” I ask.
“That won’t happen. As long as I live this home will be mine and if you hope to ever inherit it you will be a good girl and do as I say.”
As she sweeps from the room without another word, her ultimatum hangs in the air like a sword's keen edge pressed to my throat. Dimly, I register the muffled clink of china and footsteps signaling my stepsisters' imminent arrival with the tea service.
But I am numb, frozen in the throes of gut-wrenching dismay and fury. How could she have been so recklessly careless? So staggeringly selfish? And now she would sacrifice my future - my very identity - to the lecherous whims of Lord Greystone for her own survival? If he was such a catch she would be offering her own daughters, not me. No, she knows exactly what she’s doing.
A soft rap on the door breaks through the heavy silence that has descended. I hastily swipe at the lingering tear tracks on my cheeks as Fairy Godmother slips into the room, a steaming cup of tea in her hands.
"Here, drink this, my dear," she soothes, handing me the fragrant brew before settling herself in the chair beside me. Her warm eyes take in my disheveled state, lips pursing in a concerned moue. "That dreadful woman has put you through the wringer once again, I see."
The gentle understanding in her tone is my undoing. I crumple forward with a hitching sob, cradling the teacup in a white-knuckled grip as hot tears spill down my cheeks anew. Fairy Godmother simply waits with infinite patience, letting me unleash the roiling tempest of heartache and fury that batters me from within.
"How did you even know I needed you here, Godmother?" I ask bluntly, swiping at the dampness on my cheeks.
Fairy Godmother lets out a dry chuckle, perching herself on the arm of my chair. "Please, Scarlet. I'm the one who trained you myself since you were a tiny thing. You really think I can't sense when my girl is in turmoil?"
I manage a watery laugh at that, comforted as always by her no-nonsense manner.
"So is there any way out of this fresh hell without having to marry Greystone?" I ask, unable to disguise the desperate longing in my voice. "Some angle you've got worked behind the scenes?"
She considers me shrewdly for a moment before shrugging. "You know I can't divulge everything I've got cooking, girl. Not until it's go time."
I huff out an exasperated sigh - of course she's playing a longer game here, as always. "Will your 'cooking' at least let me hang onto Father's legacy without being leashed to that lech?"
Fairy Godmother's expression turns deadly serious. "There's only one surefire way out, Scarlet," she states, locking eyes with me. “You need to win.”
***
I need to win. That sounds so simple and somehow like a guarantee when I am in Fairy Godmother’s presence, but as I walk back to the dorms that hopeful delusion dissipates and reality sets in. I’m still competing with many of the best of the best. Not to mention Rose who was also trained by Fairy Godmother. I can hold my own, but I also feel shackled by the parts of me I can’t reveal in the trials so as to not give away too much of myself.
Lost in my meandering thoughts, the muted crunch of gravel pulls my focus outward with a start. A sleek black carriage rolls to a halt beside me on the deserted path, its elaborately wrought door unlatching to reveal a dimly lit interior. My heart leaps into my throat, any number of sinister scenarios flitting through my mind before an unmistakable voice drifts out on a satiny baritone.
"A bit late to be wandering the grounds unescorted, my lady," comes King Remme's rich tones, laced with a thread of dark amusement. "One might be tempted to enact a few...creative forms of recompense for such brazen defiance of propriety."
I almost laugh. My lady? No one has ever called me that. Also, is he flirting? The curtains part further, revealing the king himself lounging amidst the plush seat cushions. He cocks one dark brow in an imperious arch, wine-hued lips quirking in a devastating smirk.
"Need I remind you this kingdom strictly prohibits banditry and assaults on nobility?" I manage to retort through my breathless stupor. "Unless you are confessing a penchant for disregarding your own laws?"
A rich chuckle spills from his lips, the sound caressing me with indecent intimacy. "For a woman of your spirit and fire? I may be sorely tempted to make an exception," he purrs, crimson eyes glinting with wicked promise in the dim carriage light. "But tonight I come in peace - merely offering an escort to ensure your safe return before the castle's more...delicate inhabitants take to the halls."
My mouth curves before I can temper the response. "And just why should I trust the word of an admitted criminal?" I rejoin lightly, the thrill of our playful repartee dancing through my veins. "You could be luring me into some nefarious scheme under the guise of nobility."
"Perish the thought," King Remme gasps in feigned horror, pressing one hand dramatically to his chest. Then his expression sobers infinitesimally, that intense, brooding edge seeping back into his gaze. "Though I would sorely grieve any circumstance that robbed me of your intoxicating presence before I had a chance to...appreciate it more fully."
Heat blazes across my cheeks at the blatant implication, my breath catching in my throat. I can only gape at him, mind whirling at the dizzying path our flirtation has taken. After what feels an eternity suspended in that smoldering look, he quirks one brow in wordless invitation, lips curving in a slow, sensual smile.
Is it really sensual or am I just reading into this? Why exactly am I responding like this to him? We’ve only had one intimate moment before this. Most of our interactions he didn’t even know it was me.
With a shaky inhale, I step into the carriage, conscious of King Remme's heated regard tracking my every movement. As the plush cushions dip under my weight, our eyes meet and hold in another soul-searing look - a world of unspoken promises and illicit, delicious temptation.
The carriage lurches forward with a subtle creak before Remme finally breaks the weighted silence. "So tell me, Lady Scarlet - what deep philosophical musing occupies your mind on this fine spring eve?" he rumbles in that rich timbre. "Family woes? Court intrigues? Or perhaps...more intimate considerations?"
His gaze drops briefly to my mouth before flicking back up, weighted with unmistakable hunger.Does he know? Why would he be looking at my lips if he didn’t? He doesn’t appear to be drunk. Is he putting on an act to merely probe?
"I...find my thoughts lately turn to the subjects of choice and consequence," I manage at last, inwardly cursing the tremor in my voice. "The ever-tightening bonds of expectation, and the escalating price we pay for resisting them."
His expression turns contemplative. "You speak of rebellion against convention - casting off the shackles we so obediently adorn," he muses, something like approval tingeing his tone. "No small risk for one of your standing, Lady Marheart."
For someone of my standing? He he really just say that?
I hold his weighted stare, a reckless frankness taking hold. "One I've already paid steep coin for on more than one occasion, I fear," I counter. "And yet the allure of breaking those restraints only grows more intoxicating with each passing day."
Why am I having fun with this? I shouldn’t be. I need to stay far away so he doesn’t discover who I am. But yet, my gaze lingers on King Remme's lips, memories of our searing kiss at the masquerade ball flooding back vividly.
When our mouths finally clashed in that electrifying fusion, the sovereign's firm yet achingly tender kisses coaxed exquisite ecstasy from my very core. This is all feeling very familiar and I don’t hate it. For a moment I allow myself to imagine what could be between me and the king if things were different.
A sly, satisfied smirk curves my lips at the memory of how we taunted each other until we kissed. The moment would have been perfect if I hadn’t messed up stealing the crown.
The king regards me with intensity. Awareness thrums between us, charged and potent, before he speaks again in a low rasp.
"Does the mere notion not set your soul ablaze, my lady? Of escaping the restraints and giving in to whatever you heart desires?" Remme rumbles, those molten eyes glittering with unspoken invitation and wicked promise. A promise I find myself wishing he could fulfill. I know that I shouldn’t, but I do.
His low rasp strokes me in a way I am almost ashamed to admit to.
"More than you know, Your Grace," I breathe boldly, holding his heated gaze in playful defiance.
Remme's eyes bore into mine, his expression intense. "The idea thrills me," he says finally, his voice a low rumble. "To willingly give up control, submit to someone I choose out of my own free will. Someone whose wildness and fire stirs a part of me I've kept locked away."
He pauses, holding my gaze. "It would be freeing to let loose that side of myself with someone whose spirit resonates with my own. To open up and quench this thirst I've felt for real, raw connection for so long now."
The open vulnerability and magnetism of his words send a shiver down my spine. His eyes smolder like embers, daring me to make the next move. The air between us feels electric, weighted with possibility.
My heart thunders in my ears.. I can barely draw breath. That part of me that desperately wants to be seen and loved and cherished above all others is soaking this up.
Then, before I can find coherent response, the carriage rolls to a shuddering halt outside what I recognize as the dorms on the castle grounds. In an instant, that heated, tenuous connection between us severs like a bowstring snapped taut. I straighten automatically, wrestling back the impenetrable mask of propriety even as that untamed creature within me howls and claws in visceral protest.
I clear my throat, trying to appear unfazed despite the charged energy crackling between us. "Thank you for the ride, Your Majesty. But perhaps a chaperone would be wise in the future." My voice comes out a bit shaky.
One of Remme's dark eyebrows quirks up, his lips curving in that damnably attractive smirk. "The future, you say?” His voice drops lower, laced with temptation.
His bold words make desire flare hotly through me, leaving me momentarily paralyzed under the searing intensity of his gaze.
Seeing my flustered reaction, Remme moves closer, surrounding me in his earthy, masculine scent until I'm practically dizzy with want.
"Until next time, my lady," he murmurs, his voice a rough caress as he reaches to my side.
Why do I suddenly want him to touch me?
The door swings open before I can attempt coherent reply, and I find myself deposited in a daze, the carriage already drawing away at a brisk clip. Did he open it?
Reality crashes in in an unwelcome wave. I was just flirting with the king. He was flirting with me. Right? It’s dangerous to get too close to him. On the other hand, I could use this to my benefit. Get close enough to possibly find another opportunity to steal the crown.
A last glance at the carriage before it turns a corner and disappears entirely from view twists my insides into a knot. Maybe the king could be another way out. Maybe letting myself open up to him wouldn’t be so bad. If I played my cards right, he could be another way to escape my engagement. No one would refuse the king, right?