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When I awoke, I wastied to my bed.
Florian sat astride me, looking down.
As if from faraway, I watched as he lazily reached out a finger and traced the line of my cheek, my jaw, then trailed it down my neck.
I told my body to move, to turn my head away, to push myself up, to fight against the bindings that tied my wrists, my ankles.
But it would not, could not comply.
I was frozen in place, unable to do anything but blink. I could not even wet my lips. Could not even lift my head to see what state I was in below.
As I lay there, becoming terrifyingly aware of my condition, Florian lifted his hand to my hair, touching the loose strands.
“Such a pity,” he murmured. “The hair of an old crone. You might have been pretty otherwise.”
He smoothed down the strand, his touch slow and deliberate.
Disgust overwhelmed me. Bile rose in my throat. A creeping sense of unease slithered across my skin like a thousand writhing snakes.
He grinned abruptly–a grin that must have charmed many a noble girl, a smile that transformed his face into that of a simple, handsome young man.
But there was nothing simple about Florian. And the smile had never charmed me. I could see behind it. And what I saw was rot and decay, selfishness and cruelty. And tonight? Depravity in the extreme.
I wondered just how far he would go. Then I wondered just how far he had already gone.
“Of course, I still find you strangely desirable, Princess. I always have. An aberration in my blood, my father says. Your noble lineage calls to mine, I suppose. Even though yours is tainted by your mother’s pollution.”
Again, I tried to move my wrists. But nothing in my body seemed to work. I was transfixed. Like a fly caught in a spider’s web.
“Your mother, a woman so stupid that she literally died from falling down in her own room,” Florian continued.
He leaned closer, his head coming down towards me. I could feel his breath warm on my face.
I could not even turn away or close my eyes.
“I’ve heard she was dead drunk,” he whispered, his eyes glittering with malice. “Is that true? You were so young then, I suppose you don’t remember. What a stupid, stupid queen. Did she know then what a repugnant daughter she had borne? Did she ever tell you how hideous and useless you were bound to become?”
I felt hot tears prick the corner of my eyes. Not tears of sorrow. Florian had no fucking idea what he was even talking about.
No, these were tears of rage. Tears of murderous rage.
“Your brother doesn’t know what you’re up to, Princess. But I do. I watch. I see everything. Your training with Sir Ector and your little friend, the one who thinks she’ll be a knight? Pathetic. Utterly pathetic.” He chortled. I longed to slap the smile off his face.
He leaned over me. “And your little excursions outside of the castle? What are you up to exactly? You know I’ll find out soon enough.”
I wished I could grit my teeth, spit in his face, and tell him that if he was really watching me and was as smart as he pretended to be then shouldn’t he know already?
But I could do nothing but lie beneath him.
He leaned even closer, his body sliding along mine. His mouth was inches away.
“My father will be petitioning the king on our behalf soon, Morgan. He knows the hold you have upon me. The very, very vexatious hold. Did you know your mother was said to have bewitched your father in much the same way? Is that what you’ve done? Bewitched me into finding you appealing? Naughty, naughty, Morgan.”
I could smell the liquor on his breath. How much had he consumed to work up the nerve to do this? To come here?
I lay very still. Because I had absolutely no other choice.
He moved his mouth to my ear. “If our petition is granted, you won’t be going to the temple next year, Morgan. No, you’ll be coming home with me. As my precious wife.”
