“Where are you taking me today?” I ask, glancing at Timothy, who stands by the back door with his hand outstretched.
Michael waves his arm as Timothy helps me into the automobile. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about that,” he says once we’re in the back seats. “Just enjoy the day, and everything that comes along with being on my arm.”
I bite back the scoff that’s aching to roll off my tongue, my head tilting as I take him in. How do people find him charming? To me, he comes across as arrogant and self-absorbed.
“How could I not?” I peer at him from under the wide brim of my purple hat.
Timothy moves into the seat across from us, and my eyes fall to the coat of arms on his chest, my mind thrown back to yesterday afternoon—to the guard who left with Tristan. I was stupid, allowing the prince to corner me the way he did; simple acts like that can have disastrous consequences. And who is he to me?
Nobody.
Worse than that.
A Faasa.
But that doesn’t stop my stomach from somersaulting at the memory of him pushing against me in the darkened corner. Of his hands touching me in ways no one is allowed to touch.
And then I think of that guard—the one who did nothing except walk into the wrong place at the wrong time—and while I can’t say for sure what happened when they left, deep in my gut, I know the truth. When Tristan’s eyes met mine, there was more being said between us than what we spoke into the air.
I don’t wish death on innocent souls. But sometimes, sacrifices must be made for the greater good.
The automobile rolls toward the front gates, and my eyes glance out across the courtyard, snagging on the large weeping willow in the distance.
I hate myself for the way my heart drops the slightest bit when I don’t see jade-green eyes watching me from the shadows.
CHAPTER 14
Tristan
My soon-to-be sister-in-law has become a bit of an obsession.
A distraction, if you will. One I don’t have time for.
I’m convinced the only reason she plagues my thoughts is because she’s a puzzle I haven’t been able to solve, and since reading people is my specialty, the fact she’s a challenge makes her unbearably interesting.
The wood floors creak as I pace across the second-story room at The Elephant Bones Tavern, glancing out of the balcony door windows. There must be hundreds of people huddled on the empty land behind the building, waiting for me to address them.
Anticipation swirls through me like a gust of wind until every single nerve ending is lit up with excitement for the future. For my future.
The one that should have been mine from the beginning.
Violence has grown in the past two years, ever since my father’s death and my brother’s subsequent rise to the throne. Everyone assumes it’s random. No one knows it’s me pulling the strings, fanning the flames of their anger. It’s easy to exacerbate issues when people are starved and forgotten. And it’s even easier to gain people’s trust and place them strategically throughout the kingdom, waiting patiently for when I call.
I push through the rickety double doors to the patio and step onto the Juliette balcony. Cheers erupt and I stand straight, basking in their admiration. Blood heats in my veins, rushing to my groin until my cock hardens. It’s exciting to have them all stare at me. I enjoy being revered the way I should have always been.
“Hello, friends.” I project my voice. “You’ve heard the whispers, so let me be the first to confirm. King Michael will marry.”
“Who?” someone yells.
“Who is not important, I’m sure you’ll find out when they make the official announcement.” A flash of my little doe’s face tumbles through my mind, and my chest tightens. “What matters is that you know someone placed her very strategically for one reason, and that’s gaining your trust. To make you think sunny days are on the horizon. Comrades. I’m here to tell you, the only blaze on the horizon is the orange glow of fire when we burn their king at the stake.”
Yells erupt, boots stomping on the ground until it vibrates through the air, creating a low rumble.
“Burn the king’s whore!” someone else shouts.
My eyes fly to where the voice is coming from, my muscles growing taut. “She is not to be touched.”
The cheers grow quiet at my sharp words, confused faces staring up at me. My gaze lands on Edward, standing in the back corner with Belinda and her husband, Earl, waiting for my cue. When our eyes meet, I see the surprise flowing through them.
He hadn’t expected me to say that.