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“Why?” I need to know, and it’s the one question he told me to ask. So, I’ll ask over and over again until I get an answer.
Instead of responding, he leaves his post by the door after one last look to convince himself it’s truly closed, and gestures at the table by the couch. “Royad was busy, so I came up myself to bring you lunch.”
He crosses the room to open a dresser, his attention lingering on me. The wood creaks as he pulls out drawer after drawer until he finds what he is searching for and turns around, a bundle of black cloth in his hands.
“Because I don’t enjoy torturing as much as my father did.” A grim smile twists his lips, but his gaze is too serious not to hear the full meaning of his words, and a shudder rakes down my wet body.
“But you do enjoy torturing?” Maybe I shouldn’t be asking, but something inside of me tells me I need to know the answer.
He shrugs and bunches the fabric between his fingers. “That depends on who I’m torturing.”
I know I should be quaking with fear, but something about the way he says it doesn’t make me think he includes me in the faction of people he’d like to see suffer. At least, that’s what I hope as I push myself back to my feet and take a step toward him.
“Who?” It’s a simple question. As simple aswhy, and maybe I’ll get an answer to that.
He holds my gaze for a long time, the distance between us swimming as I keep myself from blinking so I won’t miss any hint of emotion. Eventually, he leans back against the dresser, wings rustling as he accommodates his feathers along the carved surfaces of the drawers. “The Crow who tried to kill you in the ancient pools.”
I can’t be certain I imagined the flicker of shame in his eyes. It’s gone so fast it could have been my imagination playing tricks on me.
“You punished him?” I don’t know what makes me ask. Perhaps I need to hear that he wasn’t involved in the attack.
“He tried to kill my bride.” The look he gives me tells me he believes that already explains everything.
Again, I find myself speaking the one question he told me to ask. “Why?”
And this time, he doesn’t remain silent. “Because he is a revolutionary bastard who believes we are better off the way things are and that brides only”—he pauses, searching for words until he seems to find one that fits—“distractfrom my kingly duties.”
“Which are?” I try to sound casual now that he’s finally talking, try to ignore the shivers running through my body as the wet dress hugs my skin with icy fingers.
“Accumulate more power, gain more lands. Become independent from the high fae.” He sounds like he’s reciting a list someone told him he needed to know by heart, but his eyes are burning with disdain, as if he deems said goals beneath him.
“And what do you think?”
That stops him dead. What little emotion leaked through his facade disappears behind a frown while he eyes me as if he thought he bought a flower and woke up with weeds in his garden. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”
Before I can figure out what he means by that, he tosses the bundle in his hands at me and heads for the door. “Change, eat. I’ll be back soon, and then we’ll do our first rounds through the palace as proper husband and wife.” He adds a little smirk that doesn’t go with the frown from a moment ago, and all I can do is roll my eyes at him before he lets himself out and closes the door behind him, leaving me a dripping, freezing mess.
Fifteen
The next timethe door opens, it’s not the Crow King but Royad, a grin flashing on his face as he looks me up and down with mocking black eyes.
“Must have been quite a night.” He gestures at the dressing robe I’m wearing first, then at the feather gown hanging over the chair beside me, still dripping. He picks up one end of a ripped strap and eyes it curiously. “Couldn’t wait, could he?”
Since I don’t know if Royad knows the truth, I decide to keep up pretenses and absently run a finger along my shoulder. “Patience doesn’t seem to be one of my husband’s virtues.” Royad’s lips stretch into an even broader grin. “Speaking of… Does he have any?”
“Any what?” Royad’s gaze wanders to the tray beside me on the table, and he nods at the empty plate.
After changing out of the wet dress, I’d eaten as the Crow King suggested and found myself starved enough to finish the entire meal of mashed potatoes and steamed carrots and peas. Not a meal fit for a king but filling. And most importantly, no raw meat.
“Virtues. Does he have any?” Not that it would make a difference. I’m still his wife by force and would give anything to escape this place. Only, I’ve learned the hard way that my new husband seems to be the only person able to protect me in his kingdom. I’m not sure how that makes me feel, but not exactly hopeful is a good way to start.
Royad’s laugh ends in a hiss as he meets my gaze, finding the honest question there. “I guess that’s for you to find out.” The smirk he gives me would have been adorable had I been able to call him a friend. Still, this is the male who dragged me through a magical kingdom to this prison of a palace.
“I assume you’re not going to help me with it?” The way he didn’t help me escape before Ret Relah.
That wipes the grin off his face. He lowers himself onto the couch where the Crow King left the book the night before and gives me a pitiful look. “I wish I could. I truly do. But I’m just a servant.”
“A servant he trusts or he wouldn’t have sent you to get me from Fort Perenis.” Or he wouldn’t allow him in this room alone with the bride he claims his people want to murder.
