Page 10 of Bride to the Fiend Prince
His hands drifted to my hips, hovering but not quite touching. “If anyone comes in, start moving a little, up and down,” he instructed quietly. “As if you’re—”
“I get it,” I snapped, keeping my face turned aside from his.
At that very moment, a man opened the bedroom door and leaned in. He didn’t say anything, just looked at us. Immediately I shifted my hips, moving against the Fiend Prince’s body and moaning faintly. With a satisfied expression, the man at the door nodded and ducked back out.
I leaned in to whisper to the prince. “He was definitely checking up on you.”
“What did he look like?”
Briefly I described the man, and the prince nodded. “One of my father’s favorite snoops.” His hands settled on my waist, warm through the silk shirt. “We should make a few more sounds, just in case he’s still listening.”
“All right.” I cleared my throat and gave a half-hearted groan.
The prince smiled, and his pelvis bucked suddenly upward, grinding against my center. “Oh,” I gasped.
“There,” he said. “Much more convincing.” His hands on my waist pressed down, and he ground his hips again, humming deep in his throat. I bit my lips, fighting against the sound that wanted to escape me, because the friction feltgood. It was all I could do not writhe wildly against him.
“Let it out,” he whispered. “Open your mouth.”
The next time he moved, I let my lips fall apart and a little cry escaped me, a sound halfway between a yelp of pain and a startled gasp, except it was neither of those things. The Fiend Prince looked at me with malevolent satisfaction in his eyes. “You’re a naughty little Princess at heart, aren’t you?” he said softly.
Flushed and confused, with a strange liquid heat flaring at my core, I lurched off his lap and stumbled away from him. Now it was my turn to long for some privacy. I snatched my discarded pants and marched into the closet, burying myself in the dark behind a row of tailcoats.
I pulled the pants on, but not before experimentally touching my damp underwear. I wanted to keep touching, but the prince’s voice slithered into the closet, somewhat muffled by layers of hanging fabric. “Princess, did I embarrass you? That wasn’t my intention.” But he sounded much too pleased with himself for it to be a genuine apology.
“I’m going to my study now,” he said. “The servants will be back soon to dress you for the celebration tonight. We’ll be expected to dance, to eat, to drink, to be charming. I hope you can manage that. If you behave in a satisfactory manner, as my bride, I’ll see to it that you get your training and exercise space tomorrow.”
His footsteps faded, and I shrank to the floor, pressing my fingers to my lips.
Why had I agreed to sit on his lap? Why had I let him hold my waist? Why had I let myself get carried away? This man wasn’t kind. He was a killer, a battle-hardened warrior who had personally slain hundreds of my father’s soldiers. Rumors claimed he rode to war in black armor studded with red gems—that he wielded a massive sword with a glowing scarlet blade, which drank the blood and souls of the people he killed. They said he hurled great whips and bolts of blazing magic across the battlefield.
Magic.
I hadn’t seen him use magic at all—not a lick of it. And when his father suggested he sedate me, there was no mention of magical means of restraint. Surely if the Fiend Prince were able to wield magic, he could have used it to bend me to his will.
People with magic occasionally popped up in other lands, but Terelaus had an overabundance of magic-users. Many of their soldiers used minor magic—blasts of light, bolts of fire, crackling energy nets, that sort of thing. Others, like the sorcerer who’d brought me here, had much greater magical abilities, rarer and more refined.
Maybe the Fiend Prince’s malady, whatever had rendered him “worthless,” had to do with the loss of his magic. And if I could find out how he lost his power, maybe I could find out how to drain magic from every sorcerer and wielder in Terelaus.
If I could figure that out, maybe I would get to go home.
10
A few hours later, after a tornado of servants had spun around me awhile, I emerged in the white dress with the silvery swirls, which left my shoulders and cleavage on display. I’d been sponged, painted, bejeweled, and coiffed until I gleamed like the trophy I was. My long hair had been parted and tied into puffy sections, a tradition for Terelonian brides.
The Fiend Prince and I left his quarters together in silence, flanked by several guards who all kept their hands on their sword-hilts and eyed me with expressions hovering between awe and suspicion. News of my combat skills must have traveled through the Cursed Palace. I could not help but smirk with satisfaction at the thought.
As we walked, I tried to commit the route to memory. The sooner I learned the layout of this place, the better. The Fiend Prince had called the Cursed Palace “a maze,” and I soon discovered why. We must have passed fifty different hallways, narrow passages, and twisty stairways hewn from rock. After the twentieth turn, I gave up trying to keep track of the rights and lefts.
The Fiend Prince leaned close to me. “You look disgruntled, dearest. Try to assume a slightly more docile expression. Remember, you’ve been pleasantly surprised by my stamina and sexual prowess, and now you’re entirely content to be my bride.”
“Of course,” I said through a savage smile. “I’m the happiest of happy prisoners.”
He threw me a warning glance. “Here we are. Remember what’s at stake.”
My training space. An exercise area just for me, where I could grow even stronger, strong enough to fight my way out of here. Except that no amount of fighting would get me past the magic-users of this land. To escape, I would need to know more about them, which meant I would need to earn trust, put everyone off their guard, convince them that I liked it here and that I wouldn’t try to escape. I needed all of them, from the lowliest servant to the Dreadlord himself, to trust me.
I flashed the Fiend Prince my best smile—the one I used when I toured villages with my father or rode in the parade on holidays. A beautiful, practiced smile, one that lit up my face and showed every feature to best advantage.
