Page 69 of The Princess of Nothing
“Look.” He uncrossed his arms. “I didn’t think Kiros was going to be king. Just a consort. I didn’t know their plans. At the time, it seemed like it was in both of our best interests. A great idea that would have benefited me too. Am I wrong to protect what is mine?”
Tears pooled in my eyes. My words teetered on the tip of my tongue. His gaze faltered as the unspoken statement hung between us. I thought I was his. I thought he’d want to protect me.
“My kingdom and my heart are not worth betting on an idea,” I stated, feeling vulnerable. Looking away from his invasive stare, I dropped my arms to my side. “You threatened my throne, twice, and you didn’t try to save me.”
His eyes moved downward. “Not true. Also, I didn’t mean it was worth betting on.”
“I know what you meant,” I replied.
“I don’t know what to say, love.”
I fumed. “Don’t call me that.”
“It’s good seeing you, regardless of the anger.” His gaze trickled over my body, moving up until his smoky-gray eyes met mine. “I was worried sick. I tried finding a way to get you out of the pits, but then Kiros saved you.”
My mouth twisted in disgust. “My savior.” Guilt swirled my stomach into knots. I had to end this conversation and find the one person who did in fact save me, who went out of his way to care for me and showed me loyalty no matter what. Cedric was who mattered, but no matter what I did, I couldn’t pull myself away from Blaise. I had to ask him if we could stay here, yet I couldn’t feign being okay with him after what he did.
“Don’t be like this. You didn’t marry him, so what’s the problem?”
“You’re lucky I didn’t. Else I’d have used all of his armies and mine to attack you first.”
He picked up a lit cigar from an ashtray resting on the arm of his throne. Clover-scented smoke circled in the air when he exhaled. “I’m sure you would have.”
“Don’t underestimate me.”
He placed the cigar back on its silver plate. “That, I’d never do.”
I noticed a difference in him, one I couldn’t quite put my finger on. His voice wavered a couple of times and he looked on edge, although he did well to hide it. There were cracks in his composure, as if he were ready to fall apart. The words from his letter floated into my mind. “You wrote Edgar is coming for you, with the sword,” I said. “Have any more attempts been made?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes glazing over. “Since we’ve spoken, several more vials of mer-venom have reached me. They’ve grown imaginative.” He laughed nervously. “Using my cigar once to get it into my body once I’d delayed all meals and drinks, then they poisoned my clothing. It’s been...” He searched for the words, tracing his fingers along his wrist. “Problematic.”
“You think?”
“They’re trying to weaken me. Get close to me.”
“They?”
He closed his eyes briefly. “Him, Berovia, I have enemies at every door. Your cousin hates that we haven’t gotten the feral fae under control. Despite him being allowed to live in our kingdom for most of his life, he stayed with the lunas who had broken away from Magaelor, you see, to the east of here in small villages built around the woods. My father let them be.” He shrugged. “Said they weren’t worth our time. Anyway, he and his friends, people who’d raised him like family, sometimes they were attacked by the feral fae. A few were even killed, despite their protection spells. Therefore, he doesn’t have a high opinion of us, the royal family that is. I’m sure he made some faerie friends over the years who weren’t feral.”
“I had wondered why he was so against you when he lived here. It makes sense. I am curious as to how they managed to protect themselves.”
“Edgar practices elemental magic.”
My jaw tightened. “Sacrilege.”
“Nevertheless, faeries don’t enjoy being burned with fire magic, even if it won’t kill them. It kept most of them at bay, but not all. I wouldn’t worry though. I’ve been taking care of our rogue faeries.” His forehead crinkled. I’d never seen him so stressed. I touched his wrist, instinctively, then recoiled.
“Edgar has people in the castle.” I presumed. “They have to be faeries, right?”
“Traitors,” he replied. “I assume it’s the few who he’d gotten to know while living here. They’d have to hate our family too.” He inhaled sharply.
I wished he’d stand farther away. I could smell clove on his clothing and berries on his breath. He licked his lips, looking down at me with tenderness in his expression. He hesitated on the edge of words, uncertainty playing on his lips.
“Winter, I... I never meant for you to get hurt. You must believe me. I care for you. Deeply. As much as I can.” Sincerity was thick in his gaze. I recalled my conversation with the mer king. Could I really blame his distance, his lack of compassion, or care when he was cursed?
My heart trembled. I wished it wouldn’t. “I—”
“Don’t tell me what I feel,” he begged. Tiredness crowned his features. “I’ve missed you.”
