Chapter 24 #2
The king laughs. “Well, I see nothing for my dear Owena to complain about. Nice, symmetrical face. Toned, but not too sharp.”
My jaw tightens as my face burns. Mother’s reduced me to a piece of meat to trade off.
Her grip on my shoulder tightens. “Calm yourself.”
The words echo around me, and the fire diminishes. After all, women have always seen me that way. Why should it bother me coming from a king?
But I wish someone would see more.
Dryfid cocks his head, then shrugs. “I suppose I should get Owena down here.” He flicks his hand to the side, and a fae woman I hadn’t noticed standing there curtsies, then hurries up the stairs.
After a few minutes, during which my mother and King Dryfid make small talk, the sound of footsteps draws my attention.
A woman with curly golden hair descends the staircase, so graceful she’s practically floating.
Thanks to the sleeveless, rose-colored bodice she wears, her neck and shoulders are on full display, with a billowing skirt flowing out from under it.
A matching shawl hangs around her arms, but she’s pulled it tight in the front, clearly trying to keep herself warm.
“Her Highness, Princess Owena,” the guard at the door announces.
Her dark eyes meet mine, and her full, rosy lips twist as she evaluates me.
Dryfid guides her closer with a hand on her back. “My dear Owena, this is Prince Caeo.”
I force the smile that’s always come naturally when talking to pretty girls. Which she is. More than pretty, if I’m being honest. But I can’t get past how awkward this is.
Owena’s face warms with a smile. “I’m glad to finally put a face to your name.” She holds up her hand the way our parents did when they’d greeted one another.
“Nice to meet you.” I press my palm against hers and consider her greeting, knowing she can’t lie.
She’s not happy to meet me. Sure enough, her hand drops the instant our palms meet.
“Perhaps the two of you should go for a walk,” my mother says. “Get acquainted.”
I shoot her a glare. Is this why she scared away every girlfriend I’ve ever had? So she could marry me off to someone convenient for her?
“Take her for a walk,” she repeats, her voice echoing like a drum.
Owena’s brow quirks up, then her eyes widen as I grab her hand and pull her out of the room, back into the gardens.
“This is not the proper way to escort a lady,” she says, smacking my arm until I let go of her.
“Sorry,” I mumble. Not sure what came over me.
“Here. Bend your arm like this.” Owena demonstrates, bringing her right hand to rest on her chest.
I imitate her, then she slips her fingers into the crook of my elbow. It’s an improvement—her hand felt wrong in mine. Too smooth, like ice.
“Good. We’ll make a prince out of you yet.” She meets my gaze as she pulls her shawl tight. The inky wells of her eyes draw me in, practically absorbing the sunlight. “You can walk now,” she says, nodding ahead.
I blink free of her haunting eyes. “You seem cold. Would you like my coat?”
A bitter laugh huffs out of her. “We’re not there yet.” She nudges me forward, and I start walking. “I’m going to need an entirely new wardrobe. It’s far too chilly here.”
I lead us along a different path from before, this one stone, to a spot with a stream running through it, lined with orange and pink tulips. Some nearby lavender bushes fill the air with their soothing scent. My steps pause, a strange ache twisting in my chest.
“It’s warmer where you’re from?” I ask.
“Much.” Owena turns her gaze to a hummingbird zipping between blossoms. “I’m told you’re from the mortal realm?”
“Until yesterday. This is all very”—I lift my free hand to gesture, then drop it—“new, I suppose? So don’t take it personally if I don’t seem excited about marrying you. I only found out ten minutes ago.”
“I found out a week ago and still hate the idea. Nothing against you. You’re actually better-looking than I expected, knowing you’re half mortal.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “At least we’re stuck with people who are nice to look at. Could be worse.”
“Especially since consummating the marriage is required on our wedding day.”
“Wait, what?” Heat rushes to my face. My brain had not gotten that far into this marriage.
Owena frowns. “Is that not how mortal unions work?”
“It is, but… I didn’t think it’d happen right away.”
“It’s necessary. We wouldn’t be properly bound in the eyes of the Land otherwise.”
Fuck. I pull my arm free of her and slap my face into my hands.
“I’ll try not to take your obvious dismay as a personal affront,” Owena says. “Would this be your first time?”
My head shoots up. “What? No! Of course not.” Why am I blushing? “And it’s nothing against you. You’re beautiful. I’m sure it’ll be very… nice.”
What am I saying? And why is this even bothering me?
She’s gorgeous. I should be fine with this.
But I’m not.
Why am I not?
A smile twists across her lips as her brow tilts up in amusement. “Pretend I’m any other girl. What would you be doing to get into my bed?”
I take a deep breath, then gesture vaguely before letting my hand fall. “Just existing, mostly.” The truth of that grounds me. Even with all this shit, she is just another pretty girl. I can handle this.
The smallest laugh huffs out of her nose. “You think so highly of yourself?”
“Not really. But here you are, trying to get me to try to get you into bed.”
“I’m trying”—she pinches my shoulder, making me flinch—“to get you to stop being so miserable. This is your life. You might as well enjoy what you can.”
I sigh. “Fine. Twist my arm. I’ll try to enjoy fucking you. I don’t know how I’ll manage it. But maybe it’ll be good enough to—stop that!” I laugh as she repeatedly smacks my shoulder, holding up my hands to defend myself.
“That is not”—smack—“appropriate language”—smack—“for speaking to”—smack—“a lady!”
“Is hitting me appropriate?”
She stops, and despite glaring at me, her mouth curls into a smile. “It is not. But on a serious note, I am going to arrange for some time to teach you proper etiquette.”
“Wonderful. History and etiquette lessons.” I shove my hands in my pockets as I watch the hummingbird flitter away. Lucky bastard.
Owena frowns, then gathers her skirt as she sits on the grass. “History won’t do you any good. Our lives are basically for show.”
I join her, stretching my legs out on the ridiculously soft turf. “My mother said I couldn’t learn any magic until after history.”
She gives me a pitying look. “She’ll never let you learn magic.”
“What? Why would you say that?”
“You’re the perfect puppet as you are. Trapped in a world you don’t understand, completely reliant on her. Learning to shape would give you power.”
Damn. Owena sure doesn’t beat around the bush. But she’s probably right—Mother was always at her kindest when I made her feel needed.
Wait…
“To shape?” I ask.
“That’s what we call the magic that manipulates the elements.”
Fae incanting, then? I shake my head. “But you can shape, can’t you? If that was enough for me to leave, what’s keeping you here? You don’t want this marriage, either.”
Owena’s eyes dart away. “I actually can’t shape very well—my family’s talents lie elsewhere. My father has other methods of ensuring I do as he wishes.”
“What do you mean?”
A smirk tugs at her lips as she fiddles with a blade of grass. “I can’t go revealing all our secrets to you just yet.”
I cock my head. “We’re getting married. Shouldn’t we try to be friends?”
“There’s a difference between being friends and being stupid. Knowledge is power. I have little enough as it is.”
That hits. Knowledge is what shattered my world. The meager amount Owena’s shared will already help against whatever other surprises my mother has waiting for me.
But I need to get her on my side. To reveal everything she knows. To trust me—then maybe we can find a way out of this together.
“How about a deal?” I ask, and Owena raises an eyebrow. “If I can get you to kiss me before the wedding, you’ll tell me about your family’s magic.”
The one thing I’ve never failed at is getting kissed, and nothing builds trust like locking lips and spilling secrets. But my chest tightens uncomfortably at the thought. I take a deep breath, trying to force the feeling away, but it lingers.
She folds her hands in her lap. “That’s an interesting proposition. Friends typically don’t kiss.”
I shift closer to her, my hands pressing into the soft grass. “If I’m expected to bed you in a week and a half, then we might as well kiss first.”
Owena’s eyes narrow, but her cheeks flush pink under the afternoon sun. “I’ll take that deal.” She leans in, bringing her lips to my ear. “But I believe I’ll win,” she whispers, her citrus scent washing over me.
“What makes you so sure?”
“Because you. Smell. Terrible.” She pulls away with a smug grin stretching across her face.
Heat burns up my neck. “What?” I sniff my armpit. “I bathed this morning!”
Owena shrugs, then gathers her skirt. “I should be going.”
No—I can’t let her leave with the upper hand like that. I need something to bring her back, some way to get her to lower her defenses.
An idea pops into my mind.
“Wait. Before you go… does speckled long leaf grow here?”
Owena’s eyes widen. “Your mother would not approve.”
“What else is new?”
She scrunches her face in thought, then speaks slowly. “I may be able to get some.”
“I would be eternally grateful.” My tension loosens at the glimmer of some form of escape.
And with luck, Owena’s lips will, too.