Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Prince Keir takes me to his rooms.
My mind's starting to clear as my pulse slowly comes back under control. I won't pretend I'm not a little dizzy still, but at least when he puts my feet on the ground I don't fall in a boneless puddle.
"Sit down before you fall down," he says.
"Not going to fall."
No matter what I must do.
"Stubborn," he says, but there's a hint of fondness to the words. Snapping his fingers, he summons a bowl of steaming water out of thin air and a pile of fresh linens.
Then his hand is planted firmly in the middle of my chest and he pushes me gently onto the bed. I land and sink into the mattress as if it's made of the softest feathers.
"If you wanted me in your bed, you should have asked." Wait. Did I just say that? I touch my pounding head. I think I'm concussed.
"Yes, you most likely are," the prince replies, as if I spoke the thought out loud. "Here."
There's a gentle hand on my face, and heat brushing against my head. It feels nice. It feels as though I can almost see again, as if my head's no longer throbbing.
"Mmm." I press his hand to my face like a cat seeking affection. "Good."
"That will heal some of the swelling inside your head." He wipes blood from my hair. "If I'd known all I had to do to get you alone again was knock you half unconscious, I might have tried it this morning."
"Ha." I rest my chin on my knee tiredly. "You might have my company, but I daresay the conversation is bound to be lacking."
"It's never lacking when it's with you." He dips the piece of linen in the water, and then dabs it against my wound.
"You're always a challenge and I know you're hiding something from me, but I like trying to work out what it is.
" He leans closer, his breath brushing against my lips.
"You are a constant puzzle and I cannot figure you out, Merisel. "
Merisel.
How I'm coming to hate that name.
"You're a predator," I say flatly. "Of course you want to chase the one female you can't have."
"Can't I have her?" he muses. And then his thumb is rippling down my cheek, and brushing softly across my mouth. Back and forth, until I'm holding my breath, waiting to see what he'll do with it. "Because when she's being honest—like now—I know she wants me."
"There's your ego again," I whisper and shut my eyes.
Because I can't avoid the look in his own.
"Yes and no," he says. "I see it in your eyes every time you look at me. I see the war that's being waged. You fear being trapped by my offer. You fear you cannot trust it."
A bitter laugh escapes me, because he's so close to the truth....
And yet so far.
"You've been avoiding me ever since that night we dined," he whispers. "Why?"
Maybe I am still dizzy. "Because I like you," I blurt. "And I shouldn't. It will ruin everything." I can barely get the words out. "I will ruin everything."
Keir cups my cheek in his hand, and my eyes shoot open only to find his face bare inches from my own, his eyes sparking gold as he leans closer to me. "Yes and no," he whispers. "It's still there."
I thought he was going to kiss me, but he merely brushes his lips to my temples. "I will wait until it's only a yes. I can be patient. I've been waiting for you for a very long time, Merisel."
My heart stops dead in its chest. I swear it does. I draw back sharply. "What?"
This can't be happening.
I push to my feet and stagger past him. "No. No." This is precisely what I was trying to avoid. "You don't even know me."
"I know you are kind. I know you're strong, and a fighter, and you protect those who aren't. You knew Ismena was going to be attacked tonight, and despite your feelings for her, you tried to protect her," he says, seemingly amused by my panic. His voice roughens. "I know you are the one I want."
Which is precisely what I thought he was saying.
"Well, maybe you're not the one I want?"
Fear makes my voice harsh.
Keir stares at me.
"You barely know me," I whisper. "I'm not kind. I'm not.... I'm not honest. I can't be trusted. Not with your heart."
It's the closest I can get to warning him.
He smiles a little dangerously. "Yes and no. I will wait, Merisel. But you should know—I mean to have you—no matter how long I must wait. No matter how much you doubt me."
This is a nightmare.
He's like the mirror, offering me my greatest temptation, even as I feel the jaws of the trap closing around me.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, retreating toward the door. "I cannot be what you want me to be."
"Then I will wait."
The words follow me through the door as I slam it and press my back to it. This needs to end. Now. Tonight.
Before it's too late.
* * *
Soraya arches a brow the second she sees me. "You look like something the Cauldron just spat out."
I collapse back onto my bed with a groan. I feel like it too. Between the attack and Keir's sudden decision, I feel like I've been gut punched. "Try Calliope. Bitch was our crazy killer. Tried to bury me in a wall."
"Tried?"
"Keir cut off her head." I shudder. "And then he pulled me out of the wall. You're lucky you still have a sister."
Maybe it would have been for the best if he left me in there.
What am I going to do?
He flat out stated his intentions to make me his wife.
His queen.
I was so out of sorts, I didn't even think of the fucking relic once. This is all turning to shit. The sooner we're out of here the better, but the second I think it, I know I'm in no hurry to pull off the job.
Because the second I do, I betray him.
My mouth tastes like ash.
Soraya kneels on the end of the bed and tugs at my right boot. "You shouldn't have trusted her."
"I didn't." It was a lesson learned from her all those years ago. My voice softens, "It doesn't mean I didn't like her."
"You didn't get a chance to steal the relic from the prince?"
"Don't. Not tonight. I'm tired and my head hurts." I sit up on the bed as she discards my boots behind her. Then she's helping with my gown, dragging the bloodied remnants of it over my head. "The last thing I was thinking about was stealing the charm from around Keir's neck."
Soraya rubs my shoulders and I can't stop them from softening. "Keir, is it?"
I shove her in the gut. "Is there anything to drink? My mouth tastes like a horse's ass."
Soraya's eyebrows rise as she turns to the decanter in the corner. "I wouldn't know what that tastes like."
"Liar. You've kissed enough donkeys in your time."
"But never their asses." She smiles as she pours me wine. "I used to leave that to you."
"I missed you," I admit, resting back on my hands. Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought? Maybe I nearly died. "I missed this."
Both of us working together, instead of at odds, as it has been for the past ten years.
Soraya pauses, her dark eyes locking on me as I reach for the goblet in her hand. She resists slightly, but I arch a brow and take it from her with a smile.
"If only we didn't have to go back to father," I muse, sipping the wine. "Do you ever think of what it would be like to live in another court? To be free of him?"
"All the time," she whispers, but she still hasn't moved. Her face hardens. "This place is turning your head. Court of Dreams. Ha. There is no escape. Father owns us, body and soul."
I capture her hand, knowing she speaks of the past and what she'd suffered when she returned from her failed attempt to assassinate the Lord of Mistmark. King Raesh does not suffer failure lightly, but there'd been more to it, I was sure.
Especially when word came of the Lord of Mistmark's betrothal to a foreign princess last month. Soraya has been brooding ever since, though perhaps I’m the only one who can see it.
"He hasn't married her yet. There's still hope."
She tears her hand from mine. "I don't know what you speak of."
A lie, but perhaps our new truce doesn't extend so far.
"I think you do. You don't fail." I breathe the words into the air. "Father might believe you missed your mark, but I know you better. If you failed to kill the Lord of Mistmark, then there was a reason."
I know the girl who'd forged herself in the brutal training camps we'd endured in the Shadowfangs.
The only way to survive was to be the best, and despite my efforts, not even I could come close to beating her at the games and bouts.
There was a strength of will inside her that forged my sister into a cold, hard blade without mercy.
Soraya stares at me stonily.
"You won't speak his name," I continue, taking another drink of wine.
"But you flinch when father does. And you bore your punishment without a fight.
You've never tolerated father's abuse, but this time you did.
I think we both know why. You didn't want father to look too closely at why you failed. Did you love him?"
What does that feel like?
A flash of rage crosses her face and she smashes the goblet from my hand. Wine soaks across the carpets, but I don't move. Not even when she strides to the window, glaring through it. "A half-born wraith bastard? I would not have dared."
"You should have dared."
After tonight, it's becoming more than clear that life is worth grasping by the hands. All those things I've never done, and I came close tonight to never having that chance again.
"And have father crush my soul-trap in his fist?" She shoots me an angry look. "This is why you could never beat me. This is why I was the best. You hope. You dream. You have trust where there is none. You are weak. We must stand alone in this world, or we will fall."
I push to my feet in protest... and somehow lose my balance.
Capturing myself against the bed, I try to shake off the sudden weakness in my knees. Must have been sitting too long. Maybe I'm still concussed. "Is it weak to dream of more?"
"Like what?" She turns on me, raking a disdainful look down me.
"Like the handsome prince following you around like a fool?
You think he's your answer? You think he would risk it all for you if he knew the truth of your ancestry?
You think he would choose you?" A bitter laugh escapes her.
"Gods, you're so trusting. You don't even truly know why father sent me, do you? To be your maid?"
Once again I'm reminded we're not truly allies no matter how much I try. The room swims before my eyes, her words sounding as if they come from a great distance. This is no concussion.
"What did you do?" The wine looks like blood splashed across the floor, a sudden, ominous omen. Gods, my head is swimming. What was in the wine? "What did you give me?"
Soraya draws her knife. "It's not poison. You'll wake with the dawn, though you might regret it for a while. Bitterroot has that effect, I'm told."
My feet go out from under me, pain slamming through my knees as I hit the ground. Curse her. No!
"You had your chance," Soraya continues, her voice echoing hollowly in my ears.
"You failed to steal the charm. So I will, now you've told me where it is.
No matter what I must do." There's a faint pause.
"Love is a weakness. There is no place for it in this world.
I loved you once, but we both would have died if I'd let it trap me. "
And then she's gone.
Panic sweeps through me, like the wings of a herd of moths.
My sister's deadly at the best of times. And she's no thief. She'll try and take the Heart by force, not misdirection. Prince Keir might be powerful, but he won't be expecting it.
I have to stop her.
Stumbling to the chamber pot, I thrust both fingers down my throat, forcing my gorge to rise. The wine comes up with a splash, in great, gasping heaves. Hopefully, it won't be too late.
When it's done, I fell to my hands and knees on the carpets, shaking all over, and calling her every vile name under the sun.
I think of the prince and his story of betrayal. It's such a bitter fruit to taste, all the more so because only one you trust can strike so true.
He'll never forgive me for this, and the thought is enough to force me to my feet.
I force myself to my feet, staggering like a drunk fresh from a tavern.
Soraya is gone.
And so is the gown I was been wearing.