Page 37 of Seduced By Darkness
My gut knots up tight as she brings the candle closer. I can’t stop a hint of dread from breaking over my skin in chills. My magic’s been slow to come in, and my mother thinks forcing me into these training sessions will help me, but if anything, my ability to weave fire is getting worse.
“Touch the flame,” she says.
“I can’t,” I cry, and it’s a little girl’s voice.
“You will.” There’s no mercy in her voice. “Whether you touch it with your magic, or with your skin is the choice you must make. I will not have a weak daughter.”
I break free of that moment, sweat dripping down my spine.
There’s no sign of a burn on my skin anymore—my fae blood is strong enough to heal almost anything she can do to me—but I can feel it there, like a scar that sunk into my bones.
The question is: How far do I dare defy her?
What could be worse? My mother’s certain punishment, or marriage with Etan? It’s only trading one monster for another.
And yet….
There’s the memory of a kiss on my lips.
There’s a flame of defiance in my heart burning faster and faster….
“I won’t marry him,” I whisper.
“Pardon?” My mother spins toward me, as if she can’t quite believe her ears.
I force myself to meet her gaze. “I willnotmarry Etan.”
“Do you defy me, Iskvien?”
I don’t want this to happen here, with Edain watching, but there’s no help for it.
“He’s a monster,” I blurt. “He’s cruel and—”
“I don’t care.” Movement flashes toward me and her fingers dig into my jaw. “I don’t care if Etan fucks you into the stone of the court. I don’t care if he locks you away in a tower. He will not harm you. He will not dare. But I set no limits on his being kind to you. If you were strong, if you had your magic, then you could make him sweat. Your weakness is your own fault. Your inability to force him to dance to your tune is your own fault. You want to be weak? Then you will suffer your own consequences.” She shakes her head. “I can give you everything, Iskvien, but you have failed me again and again and again. I must find some means to turn your birth to my advantage. Youwill not fail methis final time.”
“Mother,” Andraste starts.
Mother stabs a finger toward my sister, though she doesn’t tear her gaze away from me. “Not another word.”
I tear my chin free of her grasp. To speak now is dangerous, but I’m so fucking tired of biting my tongue. “If I am weak it is because you have made me so. I remember, Mother. Irememberwhat you did to me.”
The blow snaps my head to the side, and I stagger back, fists coming up protectively to defend myself against the next one—
It never comes.
Instead, Edain is there, one hand manacled around my mother’s wrist. “My queen.”
“What?” she demands, violence seething through her green eyes. “Youdarelay hands on me?”
“I dare urge caution.” He brings her hand to his lips. “The tent walls are thin and soldiers gossip. We don’t know how many of our people are loyal, and how many of them work for other queens. Maren’s no fool. Shecannothear of this. She cannot afford to see any bruises left on Iskvien’s skin.”
“Iskvien will heal.”
“Not before your meeting.”
Mother rips her wrist from his grasp and turns on her heels to pace, her skirts slithering after her. But there’s a thoughtful gleam in her eyes. “You’re right. You’re always right, my love.”
I don’t know if he just saved me from a true beating.
