Page 286 of Kingdoms of Night

Enid shook her head. “My husband is not interested in your company."

Thorns pierced her skin, and she couldn’t hide her wince.

“I don’t need his permission to see my child,” Gyges spat as bits of pollen burst from the center of the flower. “I can come anywhere you step into the ground. You are a part of my roots, and you’ve taken root on the grounds of Camelot.”

Enid looked down at her bare feet. That's how he'd done it. That's how he'd gotten onto the grounds of Camelot. It was through her and the seedlings. She ached that she would have the loss of that rich soil between her toes, feeding her veins and her vines. She hated even more that she’d have to uproot her flower when it had just been planted. But it was a small sacrifice to make to be free of her father. Perhaps she could find another place for the other plants.

"All I want,” Gyges sighed as he tried to make his tone sound reasonable, “is what your husband promised me: his sword."

"He promised me that. Not you."

"Perfect! Then I see no problem with a daughter gifting her father a present. It is the old ways. Since I lost a daughter, I should be compensated."

Enid heard the wordcompensated.She knew that her father meant it to rile her. Did he really think she’d fall for that?

“I brought you the sword back in Jotunheim,” she said. “It was laid out at your feet, but you didn’t take it. Or rather, you couldn’t take it.”

Her father’s face in the petals remained placid, but the thorns dug deeper into her flesh. Enid stepped back, breaking the vines that held her. There was a flicker in the leaves, but the thorny vines did not reach out to grab her again.

“I chose not to take it in hopes he’d take you.”

“Geraint chose me.”

“Does he know that his choice ends with you?”

Enid frowned, not catching Gyges’ meaning.

“You can’t give him children. He will never have sons for the sword to choose from with you as his wife.”

Enid felt the pricks in her flesh even though her father's vines no longer had a hold of her. She felt a wall of shrubbery closing in on her, even though there were no trees for miles. She knew what came next; he was going to offer her a deal. A deal she couldn’t refuse. But he would be wrong.

“All my life, all you've done is take and take from me,” she said and then turned on her heel. “I want nothing from you but for you to take your leave of me forever.”

"I know how you can become pregnant."

She stalled. It was exactly what he’d planned for. She knew his games so well. But she also knew his tricks. “That's impossible."

“Impossible? Isn’t that the word humans use for magic? And as you know, I am a collector of magical things."

"You're also a liar.” She refused to turn around. But neither could she leave.

"That's true. But you also know that I'm a shrewd businessman. Do you really think I’d allow my daughter to twine with a being who couldn’t continue my line?”

It was a trick. It was a trap. She’d seen so many beings caught in this exact web of her father’s making. She knew that no matter what he was offering, no matter the riches he promised, it would not work out in her favor.

Gyges’ games were designed for his favor. She would lose. But what if…

That little voice had been the demise and death of so many. But what if…

Enid turned her head to glance over her shoulder. Her father’s smile split wide, making the petals of the bloom into sharp points that would resemble a Venus Flytrap. And like a bug, she knew she was caught.

CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR

This was his favorite part of the day. Coming back to his rooms to be engulfed in his wife’s scent. The ordeal with Loren had been trying enough. Geraint wanted nothing more than to bury his nose at Enid’s neck and then venture lower. But when he opened the door, she wasn’t there.

He could have been patient and waited. Instead, he shut the door and went in search of her. The desire to pull something sure and true to himself was too great. And so, letting his nose be the guide, Geraint traced Enid’s steps.

After the debacle with the Takrut last week, the two of them had endeavored to be open and honest with each other. Each day, her guard unraveled more and more as she exposed the tender side of her leaves to him. Geraint was then and now remained an open book. In fact, he had to keep his fingers from turning the pages of his soul too quickly lest he overwhelm her. He couldn’t help the fact that he wanted his wife to know every part of him, every nook and cranny. But he did try to keep to her pace.

---