Chapter 15 #2
“Anyway,” I say, “enough of me wallowing in my privileged misery. When I spoke to Asmo, I thought maybe he wasn’t talking about himself. I thought maybe he was speaking for you.”
He places his elbow on the armchair and rests his head on his chin. “Why would you think that?”
“I had this theory that you were close with Etta. Asmo said you two were friendly, and I took that and ran with it. I thought maybe you had started seeing her and that you were the one who wasn’t happy about being here, not Asmo.”
He leans forward. “Why would you think I was seeing Etta?” His tone is low, and he asks the question slowly, seemingly guarded.
I put my head in my hands and groan. “I don’t know. I shared the theory with my friend, and she was as confused as you are.”
He relaxes back into his chair and says, “I’m sorry if you were under the assumption that I was seeing Etta. I’m sure that caused some worry for you since I’m your boyfriend and all.” He winks at me, his cautious tone disappearing.
“You accept the title, then? I was bold earlier when I said that, but I’m not sure how this works. Are you all my boyfriends? Or do I just date each of you, then jump straight into fiancés?”
“So, you’re an overthinker?” he asks, arching an eyebrow. “Cheers to the overthinkers.” He holds his wine glass out, and I clink mine to his.
“I guess you could say that. Your High Queen has anxiety, but so does everyone,” I say, glancing at the dark woods.
“I don’t think it’s a bad thing, though—not in a position like this.
I would say it’s a strength. Growing up, we had to think through all the different possibilities that could happen and determine solutions for each one.
We were taught to foster that feeling of anxiety.
But instead of simmering in it, we were taught to attack it and think through it to get to the different solutions.
It’s a good trait to have if you’re in charge of an entire region, or an entire people,” he says, gesturing to me.
“We used to go through surprise drills,” he continues, his gaze no longer focused on me, now staring into the night-cloaked forest. “Asmo and I would be woken from a dead sleep and attacked.”
I don’t say anything. My gaze is locked on him as he shares the memory.
“It would be the middle of the night, and all the lights would be cut. We’d be woken by someone’s hand over our mouths, and we would have to fight that person until one of us was incapacitated.
My father said it was necessary to be prepared for anything.
What if our House was ever attacked or someone wanted to hurt us?
We needed to know how to defend ourselves. ”
“What happened if you were the one who was incapacitated?” I ask quietly.
He huffs, a poor attempt at a laugh. “We’d have to do it over again the next night.
If we still couldn’t beat the attacker, we’d repeat it every night until we did.
If so, they’d come every other night or in a random pattern, so we couldn’t learn when to expect it.
By the time they did come, we’d be so exhausted from lack of sleep that it was nearly impossible to win.
Or it would result in our magic panicking, immediately going into fight mode. ”
“Fight mode?” I ask.
He nods while he takes a sip of his wine.
His throat bobs as he swallows, then elaborates, “I’m not sure if that’s what other people call it, but when your magic goes into fight mode, it sends out a powerful burst. It’s essentially your magic’s final stand.
It’s rare for that to happen, but it would happen regularly with us due to the distress we were under.
We would win, but it would leave us spent and drained for days.
It would also seriously harm whoever was attacking us.
We never knew what happened to them after we won,” he says.
“How old were you?” My voice comes out soft, just barely a whisper.
“It started when we were six,” he says, his gaze back on the dark forest. “It’s never stopped.”
The blood drains from my face. Six years old. Taught to fear. Taught to fight. At six.
“You were six,” I repeat. “How…how did you survive that?”
His laugh is bitter. “The first time it happened, Az told me to hide. He tried to fight by himself. He was down in moments. My magic…I’d never felt anything like it before.
It felt like I had lost all control like I was being ripped apart from the inside out.
I was terrified. I was the first of us to experience the burst. I woke up to Az standing over me, shaking me.
To this day, I’ve never seen him look so scared. ”
My heart breaks for the two Serpent Princes. “Marik, that’s awful…”
“Yes, it was.” He clears his throat and shifts in his seat. The sorrow is replaced by something harder as the moment of vulnerability dissipates. “But it made me better. It made Az and I fit to lead, to protect. It may have hardened us, but it was for our benefit.”
I lean over and place my hand on his toned forearm. “Regardless, I am sorry that you had to experience that. I can’t imagine the terror you must have felt.”
“Thank you,” he says curtly. I remove my hand at the sudden shift in his tone.
“Are all of the Houses like that?” I ask.
“I think your House and maybe House Ursidae are different, but the rest of the Houses are.”
“Is that a practice that you want to continue with your children?”
He hesitates, seeming like he’s struggling for the right words.
“Yes, but not to that extreme. I think there’s value in pushing children and training them under duress, but I wouldn’t want to start that young or that intensely.
” His eyes roam the dark forest. I can’t help but wonder what memories he’s sifting through, what atrocities he’s recalling.
“That wouldn’t be something I’d be comfortable with,” I say firmly. “In any form.”
He shifts in his seat. “I think that would need to be a conversation to be had. Like I said, the practice has its benefits.”
“No, Marik. I know this is only our first date,” I say, forcing a laugh to ease the tension that’s begun to rise.
“But as High Queen, that’s not a practice I’m willing to condone in our kingdom against children.
That’s something I’ll be changing. There has to be an age of informed consent, at least.”
His eyes narrow, and I swear I see them turn darker for just a moment. “Figures,” he says with a scoff.
“What does that mean?”
He waves me off. “Nothing. Forget I said anything.”
“No, Marik. What do you mean by that?”
He hesitates, then says, “The Deer Court has always had this picture-perfect idea of the world and how the world should be. Some of the courts just aren’t like that, but you all refuse to accept that. Instead, you try to change laws and force policies that try to change the way we live.”
“I don’t see how ending a cruel practice against children is a negative thing,” I retort, my tone slightly argumentative.
He sighs, then runs a pale hand through his black hair.
“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to start an argument.
It’s been a long week. You’re right; this is only our first date.
Let’s spend it getting to know each other first. The important stuff can come later.
” He relaxes back in his chair and takes a long sip of his wine.
“More wine?” he asks, a bead of red wine still on his full bottom lip, like a singular drop of blood.
The whiplash of his emotions has left me stunned. I hold out my empty wine glass and watch as he drains the bottle into my glass. As he does, his tongue sweeps over his bottom lip, catching the remaining drop of wine.
Unsurprisingly, we finish off both bottles of wine and spend the rest of the night getting to know each other.
We stick to lighter topics, carefully avoiding anything controversial.
He tells me all about what it was like growing up in the City of Sand, but he sticks to the positive memories this time.
By the end of the night, I’m tipsy, and I think he is, too. He’s hard to read, but he seems to get less inhibited as the night goes on, laughing easier, even with my poor attempts at jokes.
The castle is quiet as he walks me back to my wing. Most are asleep by now. I stop Marik before we get too close to the guard at the foot of the grand staircase leading to my wing.
“I had a great time tonight,” I say quietly.
“Me too,” he responds, his tone warm. “When do I get to see you next?”
“I’m not sure. We’ll all be having dinner together on Saturday, so then? Unless I see you around before.”
We’re both silent for a moment before he wraps me in a hug.
I return the embrace, wrapping my arms around his torso.
I can feel the contours of his body, slim but lined with lean muscle.
He begins to pull away but doesn’t unwrap his arms. I look up, only to find him leaning down to press his lips to mine.
I briefly press my mouth against his before pulling apart.
It’s a simple, easy kiss. No sparks, just promises of more to come.
But as I fall asleep, I can’t stop thinking about the flash of anger in his eyes earlier. My brain replays the way the wine on his lips looked like blood, almost as if he had just finished devouring his prey.