Page 43 of Bride of Ash & Dust

“That complicates things,” she says.

“It doesn’t,” I snap.

“Ah, Zarek.” Alia shakes her head and smiles at me. “You know, in a lot of ways, you’re still that wild little shit from the mountains.”

I frown, surprised by how much those words sting. Then I finish the tea, push back from the table, say farewell to one of my only allies in the palace, and turn back toward the den of vipers where I’ve spent my entire adult life.

Chapter 24

Zarek

A BLACK MARK

Mortimyr is waiting for me. He’s standing by my customary place at the banquet table, the place where I passed out on my wedding night, in fact, and he’s wearing his customary scowl. He probably thinks it makes him look serious. Instead, it makes him look like it’s been quite a while since he took a shit.

“Let me guess,” I tell Mortimyr with a yawn as I enter the room. “He wants to see me immediately?”

Mortimyr sniffs. I take that as a yes. I grab a plump sausage from a platter in the middle of the table, grin at Mortimyr’s horrified expression, and eat it standing up. Then I lick my fingers.

“Lead the way,” I say.

Mortimyr does. Once again, King Malrik receives me in one of his private rooms. This time, he’s seated behind a wide desk, scowling at a long piece of parchment.

“This is an outrage,” the king declares.

He smacks his open palm on the parchment. One of the two servants standing behind him flinches.

Two servants? Whatever he’s about to say, he wants witnesses. I bow low before approaching the desk. The king scowls at me.

“How may I be of service?” I ask.

Malrik shakes his head. “I’ve terrible news, son.”

Son? Fear pulls my gut tight. It must be terrible news for him to call me his son in front of witnesses.

I smile as I sit down at the desk. King Malrik’s pale eyes meet mine.

“It’s about your wife,” he growls.

The casual smile I’ve spent my life perfecting suddenly feels brittle. I lean back, draping one arm across the back of the chair like I have nothing to prove and nothing to hide.

“Oh?” I ask. “What about her?”

King Malrik shakes his head. “We’ve been misled. One of my most trusted informants brought the news this morning.”

He waves his hand over the parchment spread across his desk. I’m not close enough to read the dark ink sprawled across it, and I don’t dare act too interested. I raise my eyebrow, waiting.

“Apparently, she’s not the maiden that dog-shit king of Marion promised us,” Malrik growls. “She’s been used before.”

One of the servants gasps. I grit my teeth, ignoring the urge to punch that asshole in the teeth.

“My son,” the king continues, “this is a black mark on our honor. It must be redressed.”

This is about the new gold mine. It has to be. I force myself to pull in a long, slow breath as Malrik shakes his head and mutters darkly about payments and honor.

He wants the mine. That’s what he’ll demand as redress, and with the armies of Vsenrog behind him, what could Lilias’s father possibly do but comply?

And that explains why Malrik made Lilias marry me instead of his son Lucian, I realize with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Infidelity against the a prince would be much worse than infidelity against an adopted former hostage. Receiving the gold mine is reparation enough for someone of my stature. But deceiving Prince Lucian would be grounds for war.