45. Lilias
Lilias
STILL ALIVE
Blayne keeps me waiting all day.
At some point, the older woman brings me lunch on a tray.
She comes back later to take the dishes away, leaving me standing at the window, staring down at the narrow courtyard behind Blayne’s house.
There’s a little tree in that courtyard, and a collection of pots holding herbs and flowers.
I watch the shadows creep across the courtyard, and I wonder if this has always been Blayne’s house, or if it belonged to someone else before him.
Someone who fell out of favor with King Malrik, perhaps.
The window is too high to jump out of, although I might be able to climb down. If I had a rope. I stare at the sheets on the bed for a long time, wondering if I could tie them together.
But then what would I do, if I managed to climb out of the window without breaking any bones? Run directly to the palace? Kick the door down and demand to see Zarek?
A bitter laugh slips through my lips. That would go well, I’m sure.
No. Sneaking out of here won’t get me far. I have to convince Blayne to take me to the palace himself for a legitimate visit. We’d go to the palace stables, ideally. And then I could talk to Alia. Out of everyone in the palace, she might know what in the nine hells is going on.
Which means I have to play nice. I have to be charming long enough to convince Blayne to take me to the palace.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath.
Shadows stretch across the entire courtyard by the time the woman knocks on my door, then slides the lock open. I stop pacing and stare at the open door.
“It’s time,” she says.
I stand, twisting my hands in the soft fabric of my dress.
Charming. I can be charming.
She leads me to the ground floor, then opens a door to what must be the nicest room in this narrow little house. Blayne sits at a massive desk with rolls of parchment spread before him. The walls behind him are lined with neatly organized bookcases, not a single volume out of place.
He glances up when I enter, then waves his hand at a table near the door. The bitter scent of his contraceptive tea stings my nostrils.
“Drink that,” he says.
“There’s no need,” I reply, with a polite nod.
He laughs, a sharp, bitter sound.
“Right,” he says. “No need. When the gods only know how many people you had to fuck to get away.”
My mouth falls open. My cheeks sting like he just slapped me.
“Drink it,” he says in a sharper voice. “Everything rides on the child your womb will carry. And I will be damned certain it’s mine.”
“I mean,” I begin, my voice shaking. “There’s no need, because I’m already bleeding.”
And it’s true. I’m bleeding because I cut my thigh with Zarek’s dagger after I got out of the bath, then pressed my old petticoat against the blood.
I left the blood-stained cloth draped over the chair next to the tub, utterly impossible to miss.
Because I assumed Blayne would try to force that damned poison on me.
Blayne looks past me like I’m not even here. “Doloros,” he calls. “To me.”
The old woman enters the room. She walks to Blayne, and he whispers in her ear. She nods, muttering something in return. Clearly, Blayne wasn’t about to take me at my word. He had to check with the woman who does the laundry. Blayne stares at me as Doloros slowly shuffles back out of the room.
“Well,” he finally says. “That’s fortunate.”
I don’t reply. There are several chairs in this room, but Blayne doesn’t offer me a seat, so I ignore them. He frowns at me; I have the vague sense that he’s disappointed. Then again, I often felt like Blayne was vaguely disappointed in me.
I thought that’s what people who loved you did. They told you when you were being a disappointment.
“It appears your first husband is still alive,” Blayne finally says.
“So much for our marriage,” I reply dryly.
Blayne waves his hand over his desk. “Oh, our marriage contract still stands,” he says. “It just won’t take effect until the snake is dead.”
My throat feels tight, like the room is running out of air. I don’t dare respond.
“Malrik is planning a celebration,” Blayne continues. “A three-day victory ball. To commemorate the reunification of Vsenrog.” Blayne looks up at me and frowns. “You do remember? All of my lessons?”
I don’t respond. Blayne continues anyway.
“Marion and Ethiria were never their own kingdoms,” he says. “And now, finally, King Malrik has brought them back home. It’s an excellent reason for a celebration. The king is even going to treat us to a demonstration of his new weapon.”
He looks at me with an expression that suggests he’s about to tell me to write something down because it’s important.
“And this particular victory ball,” he says, with a nasty smile, “will end on a particularly memorable note. With the public execution of the snake of Vsenrog.”
Blayne’s hard eyes never leave my face.
I remember the exact sound he made when I punched him in the stomach in the Marion dungeon, and I dig my fingers into my skirt to keep from screaming.
The cut I gave myself aches against the leather sheath of Zarek’s dagger.
My jaw clenches as I force myself to breathe.
A three-day celebration before the execution.
I have three days to get to the palace and find Zarek.
“A celebration?” I finally say. “Will it be held at the palace?”
“Yes, of course,” Blayne replies. Annoyance flashes across his face. “Where else would it be?”
“So, shouldn’t we be there?” I ask as innocently as I can. “For the celebration? Aren’t all the nobles invited?”
Blayne’s smile evaporates. I glance down at the floor, trying to pretend that I’ve just now remembered he’s not a nobleman. Oops.
“Of course we’ll be there,” he snaps. “Once the celebration begins, we’ll be King Malrik’s honored guests. Having you there, the princess and sole heir of one of our lost provinces, now married into Vsenrog just like your sad little province. Well. It’s is very important to His Highness.”
“So why aren’t we there now?” I ask.
Blayne comes to his feet and glares at me.
“You cannot enter the royal palace of Vsenrog without an invitation,” he says very slowly, like he’s speaking to a child. Or maybe a dog.
“And you weren’t invited?”
Blayne makes a barking sound, something that might have been intended as a laugh.
“Don’t get smart with me,” he snaps. “You’re not a princess here, Lilias. You can’t expect me to indulge your little whims anymore.”
Indulge me? Rage simmers inside my chest like steam in a teakettle. Blayne leans back and crosses his arms over his chest.
“I won’t share your bed right away,” he says, like I’m not about to punch him a second time. “Your pregnancy will make me a nobleman. I cannot risk any rumors about its legitimacy. And that’s why I’ll wait two months before impregnating you with my son.”
I sputter, choking on all the insults I can’t hurl at him if I’m going to be charming. Blayne ignores me.
“That is also the reason,” he continues, “you’re to be confined to your quarters. And, when we do travel to the palace, you’ll be accompanied by a guard. At all times.”
“Excuse me?”
Blayne looks at me like he always did. Like he knows more than I could ever dream of knowing.
“Oh, Lilias,” he sighs. “Do I really have to repeat myself?”
Gods help me, I really am going to punch him again. My fingers curl into fists. I step toward the massive desk.
There’s a low cough behind me. I turn, startled, and see the old woman standing in the doorway. She’s watching me closely.
Blayne clears his throat.
“Doloros will call you down,” Blayne says, “when the guard King Malrik has assigned to you arrives to escort us to the palace. Until that point, you will remain in your quarters.”
I look at the woman, Doloros, and then at Blayne. My fingernails dig into my palms as my fists clench.
If I do punch Blayne, what then? Would he still take me to the palace? Would I still have a chance to reach Alia? To find Zarek?
No. If I punch him now, Blayne will probably lock me up in that room under the roof and tell everyone at the damn victory ball that I’ve fallen ill, or some other smooth little lie. And who would argue with him? Who would even care?
I swallow hard as I stare at the carpet under my feet. It’s an interesting pattern, reds and golds, roses and thorns. I wonder if Blayne chose it or if it came with this house.
“That is all,” Blayne announces. “You are dismissed.”
He waves his hand in the air, like he’s swatting a fly.
And I leave.