Page 74 of The Beast King's Bride

She sniffs, wrinkles her nose, her face turning animalistic for a stomach-dropping moment. “That’s what you thought. I see. Glad to know that you don’t feel confident enough in your assessment and your hope to openly challenge me yet.”

“I would never challenge you openly,” the king says, “not without the right weapon.”

“Such wise thoughts from someone who once thought they could play me and win.”

“I was sorely mistaken,” the king says, bowing his head.

“Yes, you were. And you haven’t convinced me that you are right this time yet.” She moves forward without seeming to be taking a step and grips the king’s chin. Crimson runs down his neck. The sharp tips have dug into his flesh, I realize, and my bones quake, my feet try to move away.

She is close, so close, and although she is about the king’s height, she feels so much larger, as if she could fill up the ballroom if she let her control over her vast magic slip for a moment. She’s like a giant wave kept inside a wine glass, like a lake trapped inside the bowl of a spoon, the walls of her magic bulging and straining.

More blood runs down the king’s pale neck as she studies him, a scorpion studying its prey.

“Don’t hurt him,” I blurt out and I know now I can’t stand it, can’t let her, that I hate her with all my heart for inflicting pain on him. I’m very aware of his presence, his warmth, his scent as I tug my arm free of his and step to the side, setting out to distract her. “I heard so much about you, Empress of the Fae world. I was curious to see you.”

She does that sniffing thing again, still looking at the king, her talons still on his chin, in his neck. She could rip out his throat with a flick of her wrist, I think, and fight the paralysis of terror.

“You know I’m telling the truth.” Still trying to distract her, draw her away from him. “Don’t you want to ask me questions, test me? Isn’t this what you came to do?”

“Ash.” The king’s voice is strangled. His gaze cuts to me. “Don’t.”

“Afraid she might slip up and lie?” the Empress purrs. “If you trust her so little, you shouldn’t have let her come, king.”

“I trust her with all I have,” he says evenly. “And I don’t control whether she comes or goes.”

With another long look at him, she unhooks her talons from his throat and slides back. He clamps a hand over the wounds, face pale, eyes glittering with rage.

“So tell me, little bird.” The Empress faces me again and if I didn’t still see the blood dripping over the king’s hand, I’d have regretted drawing her attention. “Are you truly here of your own free will?”

“At the ball? Yes.”

Because it is the truth, my long night of indecision testifying to that.

“Are you attempting to cheat your way out of my questions as the Fae do? I meant in our world. Are you here of your own free will?”

“Yes,” I reply again, without hesitation—because in a couple of weeks I’m leaving and this is my choice. “Yes, I’m here willingly.”

“I see.” Her eyes narrow even as her nose wrinkles again. “How intriguing. Did you choose this gown?”

“No. Talen—the king did.”

There is a wave of whispers at my use of the king’s nickname this time, but she sweeps her hand and they stop as if turned to stone.

“Has he told you about the riddle and the curse?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t think of running away?”

“I have.” I shrug. “But decided to stay.”

“Admirable,” she says, her mouth souring around the word. “Hasn’t he annoyed you with his demands and arrogance yet?”

“He has, at times,” I mutter and have to grin when he bares his teeth at me.

“Has he given you gold and gems to convince you to stay here with him?”

“No,” I say truthfully. “He hasn’t offered me anything. Now I feel cheated. Can I still ask for the gold?”

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