Page 50 of Her Cruel Redemption

Marry me, Rhiandra.

My emotions were hopelessly tangled. It would be vindicating to make him as angry as I was sure he would be when he heard I’d found a way to wriggle out of our marriage after all. That was an easy one to name. It pleased my need for vengeance. But then, that conversation with the revolting Igor Lidello had torn snarls of feelings far more confusing through my stomach and my chest. Every time I thought of it, I felt sick. So I just tried not to think of it at all.

Still, the weight of it clung to me as I moved through the evening, stealing my appetite at dinner and lingering as I was preparing for bed. So when the unexpected knock came at my door, I was already wound too tight. Cursing under my breath, I wrapped my robe around me and opened it only to find Vic standing on the threshold. He flashed me a charming smile, all white teeth and amiability.

‘Forgive me for the intrusion,’ he began, though there was nothing apologetic in his manner.

‘What can I do for you, minister?’ I asked. What reason would he have for knocking on my door at this time of the night?

‘I’ve come bearing a gift. I meant to give it to you after the meeting with Carrick, but you seemed like you needed a moment to yourself.

Surprising that he noticed. ‘A gift,’ I repeated. ‘For me?’

‘For you. And I went to more than a little trouble to procure it, too.’ He offered me a small glass jar. I took it, turned it upside down to find it unlabelled, with nothing to suggest what it was a jar of exactly. When I opened it, I found a thick, pink coloured cream with an odd, acrid smell to it. I raised an eyebrow at him. When he just continued to bare those white teeth, I realised I would have to spell my question out for him.

‘What is it?’ I asked.

‘Face cream,’ he said. ‘And not just any face cream, it’s the sort laced with magic.’

I stared at him.

‘Now, magic isn’t as easy to come by here as you’d have been used to in Brimordia, especially not since the conflict dried up the fall spawn trade, but King Esario insisted that you have this.’ He tapped the side of the jar. ‘And don’t be afraid of using it. It may be hard to come by, but I’ll make it my mission to ensure you have as much as you need.’

There was a bitter taste in the back of my mouth that I tried to swallow down. I felt like throwing the jar at his perfect white smile. ‘He insisted,’ I repeated.

‘It’ll do wonders.’ He ended the sentence with the first sign of awkwardness, as though he’d been unsure how to continue.

‘For my scars,’ I finished for him, voice icy. ‘He wants me to smooth over my scars so I’ll be more palatable for the masses.’ I‘d already traded far too much in an attempt to change my face. But then I’d thought my beauty had been my only currency.

I didn’t think that anymore. I didn’t need to please in order to be powerful anymore.

’You’d be quite beautiful if you softened them a bit.’ He was still affecting a casual air, but there was an edge to his smile now. I wanted to wipe it off with violence.

‘I know,’ I said bluntly. ‘Is there anything else?’

He didn’t make any move to leave. ‘A thank you wouldn’t go astray.’

Athank you.What, did he expect me to get down on my knees and suck his cock? ‘What’s your angle here?’ I asked after a moment. ‘You’re surely an important, busy man here at court. Why are you running around sourcing face cream and trying to wring some good will from me?’

He dipped his head, all the charm of a skilled courtier. ‘I’d like you to think well of me.’

Instantly, I was on my guard. I narrowed my eyes, surveying him. ‘Maybe not as important as I guessed.’

His brows shot up his head. ‘What?’

‘You’re looking for a little more political sway. Gwinellyn is out of the question, but her stepmother—a dowager queen and her closest ally—is a decent match.’

His answering laugh was a little strained. ‘You don’t mince words, do you?’

‘Doesn’t my past deter you?’ I mused, more to myself than him. ‘Wife to two kings, one dead and the other… well, I don’t think we need to go there again today. How about the fact that I was a maisera before all that?’ I folded my arms as he shifted his weight from foot to foot, opening his mouth and seeming to find nothing to say. ‘Actually, I bet none of that bothers you. In fact, I bet itexcitesyou a little. You’re wondering what it would be like to bed such a woman.’

He seemed to choke on his breath, face immediately changing colour as his eyebrows shot high up his forehead. At least he put that charming smile away. ‘You could stand to be a little nicer, you know. All the stories said you could enchant a man from across the room.’

‘Believe me, this is me being nice. And if you don’t like me when I’m like this, I can promise youreallywon’t like me when I’m mean. Goodnight minister.’ I shut the door in his face and returned to my bedchamber with anger flushing my skin, exhaustion discarded, too incensed now to crawl into bed. They found my face unpleasant to look at, did they? They wanted me to plaster it over with a mask of sweet, corrosive magic squeezed from the veins of those who’d once called this land their own?

I placed the jar on the dressing table, before smacking my hands against the dark wood and leaning down, staring at my face in the mirror. My eyes were still the same. Or maybe they weren’t. Maybe they were harder now. Maybe the things I’d seen, lived through, done, had changed them. I tried to smile, but the curve of my lips looked tight and unfamiliar. Had my face always been this sharp? And then, a heavier, more vulnerable wondering. Was it really that unpleasant to look upon?

Though, that wasn’t what this was about. This was about them wanting me to hide. Wanting me to cover myself with the remnants of stolen lives and pretend I was something softer, something more palatable. It shouldn’t have mattered. I had real power now. I could fling lightning from my hands, command forces they couldn’t begin to understand. And yet here I was, standing in front of a mirror, wondering if I should make myself smaller.

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