Page 47 of Point of No Return

Charlotte

Marriage has to be the most boring thing to ever happen to me. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. Weeks pass by. All the same. All full of restless, fitful nights of sleep. All full of dreary, monotonous days following the same damn routine over and over again.

I’m here for one reason and one reason only. And after what’s now been months, I’m no closer to my husband than I was when neither of us knew the other existed. Seeing my mother tomorrow is only going to go one way: I’m going to get my ass handed to me.

I know something is different when Josie strolls into the kitchen just after breakfast. Since I all but revealed that I know of her bluff, a different lady’s maid has been assigned to attend to me. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen her in person. Gone are the cotton skirts and ill-fitting aprons. Instead, her outfit is replaced by the Benenati black uniform. A simple red badge at the arm signifies her status. Second in command.

“Good morning?” I sip my coffee as nonchalantly as possible, but when Tyson rolls in behind her, I nearly choke on the hot liquid.

Aleks follows behind him, offering only a tight-lipped smile as he stops behind his father’s wheelchair.

“Ah, Eva,” Tyson starts, and I blink in surprise. “I was looking for Charlotte. I didn’t know you’d be by so soon.”

For a minute, confusion makes it difficult for me to understand. But then it hits me:Tyson doesn’t recognize me.

My gaze flickers toward Josie, whose face is blank, and then to Aleks. Aleks frowns, shaking his head ever so slightly. “I- I am Charlotte.”

I watch as the realization twists Tyson’s face. His white brows draw together, and he seems taken aback the longer he looks at me. “Yes…” he says slowly, his eyes glazed over. “I was looking for you.”

His memory only seems to be getting worse. I carefully set down my mug, folding my arms in front of me. “Well, I’m here now.”

He motions me toward him. “Walk with me.”

I glance at them again, but they both continue staring straight forward. As if they themselves can’t answer the question of why he’s here. If Skar knew, he’d be pissed. I stand cautiously, and the servant tries to push his chair.

“Alone,” he croaks, and I realize he wants to speak in private.

My hands steer the wheelchair out of the kitchen, and with one last weary glance at Aleks, I wheel Tyson toward the foyer. He’s quiet as we walk toward the dance hall, passing by the galleries full of paintings and marbled sculptures. I can’t help the lump that forms in my throat. Because I’ve never known Tyson Benenati to be a quiet man. Nor a thoughtful one.

“I want you to know your safety is of the utmost importance,” he begins, and I don’t let my cadence reveal my confusion. “Especially now that you’re one of us. A Benenati- by name.”

Not by blood, is what goes unsaid.

“You do know that you’re safe here, don’t you?”

My throat feels tight, and I rack my brain trying to figure out what has brought on the sudden sentiment. “Yes… and I do appreciate the… protection you’ve given my family.”

Kissing up to him is about the lowest I’ve ever stooped in my life, but something tells me there’s more to this conversation than he’s letting on.

“People have wanted my name for a long time, you know. Being a Benenati brings a power many will never afford,” he rambles, and I am careful to listen as I push him through the open ballroom doors. Without all the bodies, the rich parquet flooring carries every sound. My footsteps echo off the far corners of the room.

“Power. Money. Protection. Things your mother and I discussed in great detail before your wedding. Things that marrying my son has guaranteed you.”

He motions for me to stop in front of a particular painting that scales nearly a quarter of the massive wall. The painting is a depiction- a mockery- of what used to be known as Prevya. What once was a realm of the finest training academies money could buy, a land rich in culture and trade. Once a bustling hub for hunters and traders alike.

Until the Benenati name came along all those years ago. Until the tattoos became a curse, a certain promise of death, rather than a rite of passage for my people. It was long before Skar, long before Tyson. But a line of hate that deep still runs strong.

“Your kind is safe here,” he says, and I know that the words are more of a threat than anything else. My kind is‘safe’because he allows me to be… because he has the power to determine whether or not I’m seen as a threat.

“I understand my place, Tyson,” I say evenly. “I know my duty. I will do what my family wishes of me.”

The corner of Tyson’s mouth twists in a smile. “I expect you will.”

I blink at him, the words falling from my mouth before I can stop them. “What more do you want from me?”

“I just want to make sure that when the time comes, you won’t do something rash. I know how cruel the world can be to people of…” My hands clench on the handles of his chair. “Your stature.”

If he knew the truth, there would be no need for the hidden threats- though I consider the possibility. He’d kill me if he ever thought his empire was at risk. None of it changes the sick feeling I get in my gut.

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