Page 52 of Bride to the Fiend Prince
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t mind,” I said. “We’ll be a matched pair.”
A strained glanced passed between my father and the Fiend Prince. My father leaned over me and said, “You haven’t heard the best part yet. You can come home, Amarylla. The Prince has agreed to dissolve your marriage.”
Blade-sharp, startling, the pain of his statement pierced my lungs. I turned panicked eyes to Galanrae, and he nodded. “You’re free,” he said softly.
“But—I don’t want to be free,” I whispered.
My father cleared his throat loudly. “You’re only saying that because you’ve been through such dreadful things during your stay here. It’s only natural that you’d be attached to the one person who showed you any kindness. Trust me, my dear—if you return home, I promise you’ll have your choice of husbands. This will never happen again.”
I clenched my teeth, my eyes burning into his. “You know, I should thank you, Father. Without this experience, I would never have realized what I’m capable of, how strong I really am. But you’re insane if you think I will ever trust one of your promises again. I’m staying here, in Terelaus, and when you die I will inherit the throne of Brintzia. Which means our throne and the Seat of Ghast will be united.”
“There’s no need for that.” My father paled. “The Prince has already relinquished Terelonian rule over all the lands his father conquered, including ours. He has signed treaties of peace with everyone. So there’s no need for Brintzia to be tied to Terelaus any longer.”
Eyebrows raised, I turned to the Fiend Prince. “You’ve already done all that? How long was I unconscious?”
“About a week,” he said. “It’s been a busy time. I bargained with Andreas and agreed to let him take the cure if he told me where to find it. So his magic has been restored, but he works for me now—under careful supervision, of course. He’s been transporting me wherever I need to go to make things right.”
“What about the other sorcerers?” I asked.
“You took their magic, so I’m going to let you decide whether or not to reverse that,” he said. “Personally I believe they deserve the punishment. Andreas deserves it too, but I need his transportation abilities. And he’s always been more willing to obey my directives than the other sorcerers were.”
On the night we were married, Andreas had listened when Galanrae told him to ease up on me. And he’d threatened me with severe consequences should I cause any harm to the Prince. Perhaps the sorcerer would be loyal to his new ruler. Though I would never stop watching Andreas, and questioning his motives. I would never trust him—just like I could never trust my father again. Not for years, anyway. Not until he proved himself worthy of my faith.
At the moment, my father’s expression did not inspire confidence. He looked anxious and angry. “You’re coming home with me, Amarylla. Staying here, in this cold wasteland, in this horrid dark palace—it’s a terrible choice.”
“Really? Because I thought selling your daughter to the Dreadlord was a terrible choice. No, actually it was a betrayal of the worst kind.” I managed to pull myself up a bit against the pillows, with only minor twinges of pain across my stomach. “I love Galanrae. My place is with him, if he’ll let me stay.”
“Who’s Galanrae?” My father looked wildly around, his expression almost comical.
“The Fiend Prince, Father.”
“Oh. I’ve never heard anyone use his real name.” My father cleared his throat, his face reddening more.
“My decision is made,” I said. “And now, Fiend Prince, what is yours? Will you send me home to Brintzia, or allow me to stay here and help you rebuild your shattered kingdom?”
Galanrae stared down at me, warmth and light flowing through his gaze. A half-smile played across his mouth. “I’m not sure. Do you have the necessary qualifications for being a queen?”
“I have references.” I smoothed the sheet across my legs primly and fluttered my eyelashes. “Someone once told me I was quick-thinking, funny, strong, smart, beautiful, and a good fighter. ‘All admirable qualities in a queen,’ he said. And I’ve carried off my first revolution—a bit haphazard, but overall a success, I’d say. Room for improvement, but what I lack in experience I make up for with absurd amounts of energy and confidence.”
“Hmm.” He tapped a finger to his lips. “I suppose you could fill the position of queen. As long as you accept the fact that I’m completely indecisive, insecure, unworthy, and embarrassingly desperate for your love.”
“Not a very prepossessing list of qualifications,” I murmured, reaching up to touch his cheek as he bent toward me. My heart throbbed with joy at how much healthier he looked, at the flush of his cheeks and the brightness of his eyes. Not to mention the physique under his shirt and vest. That, I looked forward to seeing very soon, with less fabric in the way.
“I have no qualifications at all,” he said. “And my kingdom is in shambles. The people are confused and angry. They feel betrayed.”
“Good thing both of us know first-hand how they feel,” I said. “We can empathize. And I firmly believe that empathy is the most vital trait for any good ruler.”
45
“So you’ll help me?” the Fiend Prince whispered, his lips almost brushing mine. “You’ll stay in this sordid mess of a kingdom, and help me untangle the knots my father made?”
“I’ll stay.” I slipped my hand behind his neck and pulled him down, humming with satisfaction as that pretty mouth of his sealed over mine. Changed though his body might be, he had the same scent—sharp and bittersweet, licorice and pepper and myrrh.
I let my tongue glide over his, feeling the familiar warmth waking up my body, pooling between my legs. He planted both hands against the mattress and kissed me deeper, his throat rumbling with eager delight.
“Wife,” he whispered.
