Page 124 of To Touch A Silent Fury
The Wragg walked quickly, forcing us further into the night, away from the warmth of the fires, but it was his anger that caused my shiver, not the evening air.
I did not struggle, but I spoke up. “The gardens are very pretty, should we come back in the daylight?”
We rounded a hedge, and before us was a moonlit marble courtyard with a fountain in its centre. A cherubic child spouted water onto a carved fish the same size as him.
The Wragg turned to me but did not let go of my hand.
“Vorska.” He coughed into his other hand, and my sense of foreboding reached an awful peak. “My father told me a story recently, about how he proposed to his wife the same day he met her. I know that we met before, but tonight, I was able to truly meet you.”
Then, before me, the eldest son of King Braxthorn, the unchosen general, fell to one knee. The so-called Wall of the Embergrin Pass looked up at me with no warmth. Through his hand, I felt his resolve, his conviction. But no love, and barely any desire.
The Wragg was about to propose to me.
Why? Whythisprince?
I tried to pull my hand back. “Your Gr—”
His grip on me tightened painfully, and I bit back my yelp. “I will inform my family in the morning and petition my father to wed us in five days’ time, so that we may begin our life together as early as possible.”
The words fell without thinking. “You cannot be serious.”
Banrillen forced a smile. “I know it must come as a shock. I go against my whole family in this, which is how I know it is right. They seek to use you for themselves. I will not allow it.”
“Ban—”
“As my wife, you will have every comfort,” he interrupted, as if it was little more than an afterthought to his plot against his family’s interest.
Why had I stayed? I knew I needed to leave, and I had let my want for the younger prince twist my intentions. Now, it was all ruined. My Fate slipped through my fingers like sand. How could I, a pauper by every measure, ever reject this offer? How could I stall him?
Tears sprung into my eyes, and I blinked them back. “Banrillen. I am honoured. Entirely honoured. But I never expectedto be made such an offer. You must give me time to think about this and give your family time to approve it.”
He finally dropped my hand, and it fell limp to my side. The moonstone against my wrist sat like an open taunt. It was supposed to keep me safe. How was this safe?
“You will have the coming days to gather yourself.” He stood up, dusting off his knee. “When we are married, we will both have to get used to our new life. Your dragon, and you, will live in my quarters. They are very spacious.”
My dragon and me. Me, the afterthought. “I have not yet given you my answer.”
“Your answer,” he repeated, without inflection. He towered above me, breathing ale-clad air into my face. “You would refuse me?”
I took a step back, gathering myself. I had known unpleasant boys and men alike, and I knew what it was to see a man ready to hit. No doubt this man was worse than most. I needed to be smarter, far smarter, if I had any chance of getting out of this. “No, no. That is not what I meant. In the Soundlands, it is customary to—”
He waved a hand. “I care not. I honour you by selecting you, and it is not without reservations.”
I nodded. “Of course. I apologise.”
He touched my chin, pressing rough spheres of beads against my neck. I stared at him and let the fear show. Satisfaction flickered in him. “Five days.”
“Yes,” I whispered.
He dropped his touch with a jovial smile. “Shall we return?”
I pressed my hand to my chest. “I find myself breathless, by your words and my new future. A lady from an animal, as you said. I might take the air for a moment.”
“As you wish.” He tutted as he walked away, calling over his shoulder. “Then return to your rooms. I will not have you seen drinking into the early hours. You are a respectable lady, now.”
I nodded as he faded into the darkness of the hedgerow, his laughter haunting. My voice was barely more than a whimper. “Yes. I thank you.”
I stumbled over to the fountain and fell onto its cold stone wall.
