Page 7 of Bride of Ash & Dust

“And here I thought you were going to ask about her tits,” he says, shaking his head. “Gods above, you’re such a romantic, Zarek.”

“I’m the snake,” I reply.

Petrys grins as he finishes his beer.

“There’s nothing else,” he says, as he puts his empty mug down on the table. “She’s clever. She’s good with horses. Really, the only scandal I could dig up is that she spreads her legs for her tutor.” He pauses, then presses his lips together.

“Which means she’s probably pregnant,” he says, coming to the same conclusion I reached the night King Malrik summoned me to one of his lesser rooms. “That could give you a convenient out, if you need it.”

My lip curls. I hadn’t considered that particular aspect, but he’s right. I could send Princess Lilias away for her failure to preserve her maidenhead. And the gods only know what her father would do to her then. It might even be as painful as what King Malrik would do to me if I lost his chance to stake a claim on the kingdom of Marion.

“Lovely,” I mutter into my ale.

I don’t relish the thought of taking responsibility for a woman, let alone a newborn child. But what are my options?

“And,” Petrys says, leaning over the table, “just so you know, she does have fantastic tits.”

He waves his hands in front of his chest, miming the swell of breasts so massive they defy the laws of nature. I roll my eyes.

“Since when do you care about tits?” I ask.

As long as I’ve known him, Petrys has preferred male lovers.

“Just giving you the full report,” he replies with a shrug as he waves the serving boy over to our table.

“And forgive my saying this,” Petrys adds, as the serving boy scurries off to fetch another pitcher of that piss-poor ale, “but you don’t seem very excited about your upcoming nuptials.”

I take a long look at Petrys. There were three of us, the hostages sent from the Mountains of Dungal to appease King Malrik. I was the youngest, and I carried the royal seal on my clothing, so I was the one taken under Malrik’s wing. Gerrart joined the stables and Petrys joined the barracks; I’ve always thought they got the better end of the deal.

Now, even in the dim light of the pub, I can trace the deepening lines around Petrys’s eyes and mouth. We’re not getting any younger, the two of us. Honestly, it’s a bit of a wonder Malrik took this long to marry me off. Three of his four legitimate sons are already tied to women whose lineage or wealth benefits Malrik in some way.

“Shit,” I finally say, rolling my empty mug between my hands. “Why wouldn’t I be delighted about the chance to ruin some young woman’s life on Malrik’s command?”

Petrys laughs again.

“That’s my brother,” he says, with his broad smile.

The serving boy appears again, this time with another pitcher of foul ale. Petrys fills my mug, then his.

“Now,” Petrys says, “shall we drink to the king’s ill health?”

I raise my glass. For the first time since I entered this stinking pub, I allow myself to smile.

Chapter 5

Lilias

THE KING’S SPY

My eyes snap open. I sit up in the bed, my heart hammering against the inside of my ribs. It’s so dark I might as well be inside a tomb. Gods, I might still be trapped in the same old nightmare, wandering dark halls as something terrible scrapes and spits behind me.

But, no. As my eyes adjust, I see the flicker of firelight shining weakly through the canvas wall of a tent while wind makes the flaps huff and swell.

Right. I’m traveling to Vsenrog, for my wedding, with their royal guards. Not in the palace of Marion. Not trapped in a nightmare.

I hear the rumble of low, hushed voices outside. I pull the blanket to my chest and hold my breath, listening.

“—simply cannot allow anyone in to see the lady,” a man’s gruff voice says in a harsh, threatening whisper.