Page 113 of The Beast King's Bride

I lift my rumpled skirts and curtsy.

“As I told you, bringing her here was a mistake,” the king says.

I glance up at him, startled, not sure what game he’s playing. “But…”

His gaze is cold. “You’re going back, Princess Elayne.”

I blink. “Back where?”

“Back home.”

Wait… this isn’t making any sense. Am I dreaming? I pinch myself and the pain reassures me that I’m indeed awake. “What is going on? Is this a joke?”

“Does it look like I’m joking?” he says.

No, he sounds dead serious. I stare at those haunting blue eyes, his relaxed sprawl on the throne. Even his fingers are still on the armrest. “You can’t make me,” I whisper, the only retort I can come up with, my mind an echoing blank.

“I’m ordering you to go.” He leans forward. “I want you to go. It is my wish.” He lifts a hand, gestures. “Guards. Take her.”

“But why? Has something happened? Tell me. We can figure it out.”

Laughter ripples among the lords and ladies. They eye me, their gazes cruel, pleased to see me go.

The guards arrive and reach for me, and now I know this is for real. I step out of their reach. “Talen… Don’t do this. Don’t put the mask back on, no matter the reason. Tell me the truth.”

“There is no mask,” he says coldly. “Didn’t you hear when I said yesterday, that I don’t wish to bond with you? I have no desire to bind my life to yours. You don’t belong here.”

“This isn’t how you will get these people on your side. Don’t ask me to leave you.” I swallow hard. “I could still help—”

“You cannot help us. And this isn’t for them.” He flicks a negligent hand at the laughing, muttering Fae. “It’s for myself. I cannot stand to look at you anymore.”

“You don’t mean that.” The lump in my throat is growing. “What’s happening? You care for me.”

“If I cared, do you think I would be doing this publicly, that I would humiliate you like this? I don’t love you, Ash, get it through your head. After all, as you said, you’re only a servant, a half-Fae, low-born freak. When the time comes, I’ll find a Fae princess to bond with, nothing less.”

“Talen—”

“Look at you. You know nothing of politics, nothing of us. You don’t even know how to read properly. You grew up in a kitchen.”

“Don’t do this,” I whisper.

“All you know is how to peel carrots and turnips and light the stove.” He turns to the gathered Fae. “She threw rocks at the monsters. Would you believe that? I almost shit myself laughing. And she wants to be my queen. She wants to be one of us. It’s impossible to imagine.”

They laugh some more.

He had laughed then, too, that’s true—when I’d thrown the stones at the monsters in the river. I’d thought him amused but also pleased, and now…

Now I don’t know anything anymore.

“Why are you doing this?” I demand. I won’t let the tears fall. No way.

“I never really believed you could help us,” he continues, calmly twisting the knife in my heart. “I wanted to bed you, scratch an itch, see if you would scream louder than a Fae female. But you’re not even good at that, are you?”

I flinch hard. “Talen…”

“It’s Your Majesty to you,” he says, his voice hardening, and I’m done.

His gaze is flat, cruel, unflinching, the gaze of the dangerous warrior king who kidnapped me, not the male who had me in his arms, who told me that all he wanted was to spend his life with me.

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