Page 39 of Hair, She Bears
Zenna nodded and bit her lip, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from sliding down her face. Was this the last time she would see Malik alive? Her heart stuttered, thudding painfully. Twisting away, she pressed her palms to her eyes. Malik’s hands wrapped around her wrists and pulled her arms down. Brushing the pad of his thumb underneath her eyes, he gathered the tears that formed.
“He won’t spare your life a second time,” she said, swallowing a sob.
“You would stay with my father to save me?”
“I would.”
“Zenna,” he sighed her name and drew her against his chest, stroking his fingers through her hair. “You don’t know what you’re agreeing to do.”
“An eternity of servitude is worth your life,” she mumbled against his skin.
“My father has disowned me, left me to die in prison, forever trapped in a small iron cage.” He lifted her chin. “He has no successor… where do you think he will get one?”
“No.” Horror spread through Zenna. “I refuse.”
“It won’t be by choice.” Malik’s face darkened. “And if the child you bear him possesses the same unique attributes as you…”
“Is that why he was with your mother? He was hoping you would retain some of her magical capabilities?”
“I was a great disappointment.” Malik grimaced. “But as his only child, he showed patience for us both for several years. However, he grew tired of waiting and threatened to kill me if my mother did not produce a more capable heir. She failed. To appease his anger, she performed a spell to transfer some of her abilities to him.”
“Why didn’t she just take you and leave?”
“My mother has never admitted how she ended up with my father or why she had to barter for our freedom, and I have never pressed her for the answer. It was a dark time in her life she does not discuss. Carlyle told me once when he was inebriated, she was a gift from Bruno Rossi. My father was not gentle with her.”
“Did she ever love your father?” Zenna asked.
“Would you?” Malik tilted his head.
“No.” She fell silent, her fingers picking at a loose thread on the edge of the quilt. His hand covered hers and squeezed gently.
“You don’t have to stay with me.”
Her head whipped up. “I don’t understand.”
“Once you’re free, you can go anywhere, do anything you like. There is no obligation between us.”
“I thought you wanted to marry me.”
He laughed. “I do, but I want it to be your choice, not because you believe you owe me a debt.”
She chewed her lower lip. “Can we live near the ocean?”
“We can live wherever you like.” He wrapped her in his arms and dragged her against his side, touching a gentle kiss to her temple. “Now, before you sidetrack me again,”—she grinned—“we need to finish the vials. For our plan to work, my father must not suspect anything tomorrow.”
“Have you ever made Votras Alute?” Zenna asked, climbing from the bed. Her body complained, reluctant to leave the warmth of Malik’s arms.
“No, but I’m a quick learner.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
“You sound like an exemplary soldier.”
“I was.”
“What happened?”
“My king betrayed me.” He rose from the bed, pulling free of the quilt. Zenna’s gaze dropped, and her stomach clenched. She blushed, heat crawling through her face, and spun around, her back to Malik.
“I don’t have anything you can wear.”
