Page 28 of Bride to the Fiend Prince
“Yet he risks it now.”
“Yes, because he is careful of me only when it suits his goals.” The Prince motioned for me to wait while he peered around a corner. Another moment, and he waved me on. “Some men are cruel to the world, yet manage to love their blood-kin. But my father feels nothing for anyone. He is fascinated by human emotion, intrigued by it, because he cannot sense it and does not understand it. I’ve seen him question criminals and prisoners of war about their emotions during long torture sessions. He loves to toy with the feelings of others, like a clockmaker might tweak the cogs of his timepiece.”
“So does he use the substance that you use, the one that gives power?”
“No.” The Prince emitted a brusque laugh. “He needs to stay hale and hearty so he can dominate everyone. The toll it takes isn’t something he wants to inflict on himself.”
“Then why wear a mask?”
“Perhaps he believes it makes him more fearsome, more inhuman, moredreadful.”
His sardonic tone made me snicker in response, though I winced internally at how callously the Dreadlord inflicted on his son what he would not endure himself.
“We are out of the area where the sorcerers usually prowl,” said the Fiend Prince. “We may walk a bit more freely for a while.” He ushered me into a broad corridor and we strolled down it, past stiff armored guards in glossy black helmets. None of them stopped us, though they shifted uncomfortably as we passed, probably wondering why we had no guards escorting us.
More hallways, and a few sets of a half dozen steps up and then down, and down again. Finally we halted before a gigantic set of ebony doors inlaid with scarlet stones that swirled as if flames were trapped deep inside them.
“This is the library,” the Prince whispered to me. “We have to cut through it to get where we’re going.”
I nodded, my heartbeat kicking into a faster rhythm.
The Fiend Prince gestured to the men flanking the entrance, and they pushed the doors wide for us.
“You have no personal guards with you, Your Highness,” said one of them.
“I wanted none,” the Fiend Prince replied haughtily.
“But is that wise, with—” The guard’s helmet tilted toward me.
The Fiend Prince moved with the speed of a striking snake, gripping the man’s bare neck right under the edge of his helmet. “Are you questioning me?”
In his voice I heard the echo of his father’s harsh tones, and I suppressed a shudder.
“No, Your Highness,” faltered the guard.
“Good.” The Prince released him and caught my wrist, drawing me through the doors.
The library was as gloomy and dire as the rest of the Cursed Palace, outfitted with ornate bookshelves of carved black hardwood, stocked with dark leather-bound tomes. The Prince tugged me along, burying us deep among the rows of books; and then he let me go and set his back to the shelves, bending over and breathing hard.
“You should be resting,” I told him. “You’re still recovering from whatever you took, the stuff you won’t tell me about.”
“I endured the worst of the recovery last night while you slept,” he said through shaking breaths. “But yes, I have perhaps overdone it this morning. I had to put a lot of strength into that choke-hold to make it convincing. They cannot know how weak I am, or they will respect me even less.”
“How do you know that?” I asked. “Maybe your guards and servants would love you, rather than fear you, if they knew what you’ve gone through. And I’ll wager they know a lot more about your current state than you think. The servants in my father’s palace know everything. They always find out the secrets we try to conceal from them.”
“A skill you seem to have absorbed from them,” he said wryly.
I shrugged, smirking. “Everyone has something to teach. I’m not so foolish as to ignore the practical wisdom of working men and women just because I have a title.”
“Smart woman.” He looked up at me and smiled, and my heart exploded with the warmth of his approval.
I clenched my hands, trying to tell myself I didn’t care what he thought. “Can you go on?”
“A moment.” He breathed deeply. “Why don’t you take a book or two while we’re here?”
“I’m not much of a reader,” I admitted. “I prefer real live adventures to those on a page. I don’t like to sit around staring at words.
“I never used to read much either. I was always traveling, fighting, training, attending galas, entertaining lovers.” His smile went crooked, and my stomach thrilled. “I do a bit more reading now, though.” He pushed himself away from the shelves. “Let’s go.”
