Page 71 of The Beast King's Bride

18

ASH

Last night I tossed and turned in my bed. I had decided I wasn’t going to the ball, wasn’t getting anywhere near the king again because my heart was so set on letting everything slide—him kidnapping me, not telling me the whole truth, demanding I join him to lie to everyone, pretend that we’re a couple, a unit—just for the chance of finding myself again in his arms, of being at the receiving end of that rare, wild smile.

No, I wasn’t going to cave in. Many women made that mistake, thinking a man could change and then finding to their chagrin that he can’t.

Besides which, like I told Jassin, like I told myself every day, I’m not staying.

I’m not.

But as I sat on my bed at night, wrapped in a silken robe and shivering despite the embers in the fireplace and the warm air inside the room, I thought I heard a sound outside my door.

I had to see what was out there.

Maybe it was stupid but I had to get out of the room, had to understand what was going on with the palace, with the curse. Had to know more.

So I took the knife I now kept hidden under my pillow and pulled away the chair blocking the entrance, turned the key—Jassin never locked me inside again, following the king’s orders, and had entrusted me with the key—and opened the door a crack.

And I saw it. The tyger.

It was prowling past my door, a huge beast, black as night, its stripes like silver lightning strikes on its sides. Such a sleek fur, shiny, rippling like water, such powerful muscles in its legs, rippling with every step it took. Such gleaming horns.

Every step he took—obviously a he, obviously a male, not only because of the heavy genitals hanging between its hind legs but also from the heavy musculature, the predatory look in dark eyes that shone with blues and greens. His horns curved over the sides of its feline head. In his open mouth, rows of dagger-like teeth glinted.

And it had limped a little, I noticed before shutting my door so fast it had slammed in its frame. My fingers shook as I fumbled to turn the key and push the heavy chair in front of it once more. I stepped away from the door, wondering how safe I was.

And so I hadn’t slept anymore. I sat and thought about what the king had said about the curse, about the Empress, about not giving up on his people. About having given up hope for himself.

As dawn broke outside the window, I told myself I couldn’t care. Shouldn’t.

And yet I did. I do. I realized I couldn’t look the other way, couldn’t turn off the feelings in my heart.

No matter if the king had been wrong to bring me here, to command me into anything. This was my decision, to take part in his fight against a person who believed that a reign of terror was all right, that harming others was acceptable in her reach for power.

After all, it was only a show of power on his part. I only had to stand by his side as he faced her, and if that helped his people… so be it.

If that prevented her from hurting him, I’d do it.

Admit it, Ash. This last part is what made up your mind. You don’t want to see him hurt anymore. You hate it when he is wounded and in pain. You hate the defeat in his eyes.

How did I get myself in so deep when I fought it tooth and nail to avoid it?

It means nothing, I tell myself. I’m curious to see this Empress, to see what she will do. To see how a ball thrown by a Fae king compares to the balls held in the human world.

Soon I will leave. This is only for tonight.

When Auria and Zylphia come with my lunch, I ask them about the gown the king chose for me to wear at the ball and see their faces brighten.

They really hold affection for their king, something I never noticed happening with regards to King Pryam of Kyrene. That king, my grandfather, had rumors circulating about him—that he cornered pretty young ladies and took them to his bed, that he put unreasonable demands on the servants and then punished them cruelly when they failed to comply. I never knew if the rumors were true. Ironically, in the kitchens, I was protected from the illogical brutality of the highborn.

Sure, I had to face the cook’s wrath daily, but she never lashed me as she did with the other girls. Maybe she was afraid that I might one day return into the royals’ good graces and she’d find herself in big trouble.

I was lucky in some ways, I suppose. But I felt nothing for the Kyrenian king and queen, family or not—no respect and no affection, and judging by everyone’s comments, nobody did.

Not like with this Fae king.

Auria shakes out a shimmering gown in midnight blue—the color of the king’s eyes, I realize with a start and a pang of longing, the color of his court—and lays it out on the bed. It’s stitched with tiny white gems like stars, turning it into a picture of the night sky I know.

---