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“When you walk away, that information won’t matter anymore.”
“You’re not afraid I’ll betray you?”
He stares at me, his voice flat. “No.”
I’m not sure if he’s implying he trusts me or that I have no chance of betraying him. I scoff. “You’re quite sure of yourself.”
“No.” He smiles, perhaps realizing he can just repeat the answer and annoy me.
For some reason, I want to ask what happened in his past, what happened when he killed his family twelve years ago. “Marlak, how old are you?”
“A little late to get to know your husband’s age, don’t you think?”
I put a hand on my head. “How thoughtless of me, not to ask it during our long courting period, when I considered your proposal…”
He laughs, a relaxed laugh. “Twenty-four.”
It’s only then I realize it. “You were a child!”
“Yes. That’s how humans and fae come to be. We’re born really small, as babies, then become children?—”
I don’t know why he’s trying to deviate from the topic, but I stop him. “I mean when you… left the Crystal Court. You were twelve.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Impressive. Not only are you an expert on poisons and fighting while pretending to be a defenseless damsel, your math skills are exceptional.”
I shake my head and scoff.
“Truly, wife. You just made a calculation that few are capable of.”
With that, he turns and walks to the house. Wait. I was going there, and he stopped me, now he’s walking away? Still, I sit. He was a child, a child with a dead mother and stepfather, running away from the palace where he grew up… How did he have the presence of spirit to steal the treasure?
Marlak sometimes can seem like an impenetrable fortress, but he has clear weaknesses. If I learn to exploit them, if I identify what they are… I don’t know if all I want is to find a way to make him free me, or maybe find a way to defeat him. A way to get his secrets and take them back to Master Otavio. Well, if Marlak isn’t afraid I’ll betray him, perhaps I shouldn’t be afraid of betraying him either.
And yet, I can’t shake the thought of a child running away from his palace, chased by his own brother—a child who’s now a grown man, intent on killing this same brother.
Marlak is dangerous, and I have to remember that. Under his soft whispered words, his guarantees that he’ll keep me safe, there’s someone who’ll do anything to get what he wants. He has admitted that himself.
What I don’t understand is where I fit into all that.
Also, why do I have to keep dreaming about him? He can’t be my kindred soul. Even if we were to ignore all that he’s done, he hates me. The man in my dream loves me. Then why?
I don’t know why I’m surprised that the seamstress looks so… fae. She’s a pixie. With light blue shimmery skin, silver brilliant hair, and translucid, also shimmery wings, she might be the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. She’s not young, though, and I can sense something ancient in her eyes, her manners, but other than that, I would think she was no older than thirty or so.
Her name is Irene, and apparently she’s a renowned seamstress in the fae territory north of the Crystal Court. She measures me carefully, while I wear just my underslip. Nelsin brought her here blindfolded, so that all she’s seeing is my bedroom, but I fear she could figure out where we are. Then again, I assume this is someone Marlak trusts.
He disappeared after our incursion into the river, not before telling me that I should get some trousers. His point about comfort is valid, but I think he wants me to look even more unattractive than I already am. Well, not a problem!
Irene is taking all kinds of measurements of my head. I guess she’s going to make hats? I’ve never been measured like that before.
She steps back and looks me up and down. “So beautiful. Young love is magical, did you know that?”
Does she think I feel something for Marlak? Regardless, I disagree with her. “I think old love is better, love that survives the passage of time, survives tribulations. It’s the kind of love I want.”
I find my confession surprising. But it’s true, and might be the reason being here bothers me, since I’m being robbed of the opportunity of chasing that dream. But then, the Elite Tower didn’t give me that opportunity either.
The seamstress smiles. “Like an ancient tree, numerous rings marking all the eras it’s been through.” She nods. “Wise choice, my queen.” The title doesn’t grate me for some reason. “But young love is like a blooming flower. They’re both beautiful.”
Flowers shrivel and die in days, so she does have a point. I smile.
