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“I wonder if he’ll put a horned baby in you when he fucks you tonight,” Calista speculated, giving me a nasty smile. “If he can bear to touch you, that is.”
“Oh, he’ll touch her all right—he asked for her hand,” Asfaloth sneered. “Can you imagine? Wanting such a fat cow for a wife?”
Since I’d been hearing their insults all my life, they barely fazed me. But knowing that Liath Blackthorn had asked for my hand was disquieting news. My father had said he’d agreed to take me as a wife—not that he’d asked for me. What could it mean? Why would he ask to wed the sister of the warrior he’d killed? And was Calista telling the truth about my husband-to-be’s beastly appearance?
I knew that the Unseelie Court welcomed beings that were not conventionally beautiful—creatures the Seelie Court shunned. Goblins and Trolls and Redcaps and Sprites were among its denizens, just to name a few. It is also a fact that the Fae have the ability to breed with anything—it is part of our magic. That was the origin of the Satyrs and Minotaurs and Centaurs and various other crossbreeds. But I didn’t know how I felt about marrying a crossbreed or a half-blood myself.
Don’t be foolish, a little voice whispered in my head. You’re going to kill him—remember? It doesn’t matter what he looks like—he’s going to die!
How, exactly, I would kill my soon-to-be-husband, I hadn’t quite worked out yet. But I knew I would find a way. My hatred of my brother’s killer would lead me in the right direction.
“I wonder if the baby’s horns will poke you from the inside,” Calista said, drawing me back to the dismal present. “Once Liath Blackthorn swells your belly with his seed.” She giggled unkindly. “He’s so big you know—I bet he’ll rip you in two when he fucks you! At least if he’s anything like what I saw through Asfaloth’s eyes!”
I glared at her, angry enough to throw caution to the wind.
“I thought that Sight-Sharing was something only lovers could do, Calista. Maybe the Unseelie line isn’t the only Royal lineage that has something twisted about it.”
Her amethyst eyes narrowed as she understood my implication.
“How dare you, you nasty little slut? So what if my brother and I are close enough to Sight-Share with each other—that doesn’t mean anything!”
“I’m fairly certain it means you’ve been to his bed,” I snapped. “So who’s the slut now?”
I had gone too far and I knew it. Calista’s hand shot out and I gasped as her palm connected with my cheek. The stinging pain made my eyes water and my temper got the better of me. With a cry, I lifted my hand to slap her back—only to feel my wrist caught in Asfaloth’s iron grip.
“You dare to try to strike my sister?” he demanded, glaring down at me. Though his fingers were long and artistically tapered, he was a trained warrior and much stronger than me.
I winced and tried not to show the pain I felt as his grip tightened and the small bones in my wrist ground against each other.
“She…hit me…first,” I got out at last. I could feel my pale flesh bruising and I wondered if he would actually break my wrist. Here I had been so worried about the two of them using magic on me when actually I should have been worried about my cousin’s superior strength. But I was damned if I’d beg for mercy—I wouldn’t give either of them the satisfaction!
To my surprise, it was Calista who ended the stalemate.
“Now, now, Asfaloth,” she chided sweetly. “Have you forgotten why we came? We must give out dear sweet cousin the bouquet we picked for her.”
She did a swift summoning and, reaching up, pulled a large bunch of wilting flowers out of the air. The blooms were all withered, their petals falling off and they smelled like they were rotting. There were still roots attached, which dripped muddy water on my wooden floor.
“Here!” she said and thrust them at me.
“No!” I took a half step back—as far as I could go with Asfaloth still holding me—refusing her filthy offering. It was a mockery of our tradition, that the female relative closest to the bride should go out into the wild lands and gather her wedding bouquet. That was supposed to be a gesture of love and good wishes for a happy marriage—Calista had turned it into a malicious act.
“Take them, Cousin—with our very best wishes for happiness in your marriage,” Asfaloth sneered.
“Yes, take them!” Calista said. Shoving the bouquet at me, she smeared the smelly, wilted mess against the pristine white lace of my sack-like wedding gown, leaving a muddy stain right in the center.
I gasped—I couldn’t help it—and looked down at myself in horror.
“Oops!” Calista dropped the wilted flowers at my feet and her eyes went wide. “Oh dear—only see, sweet brother, what I have done to our cousin’s lovely gown.”
