His Father's Mate

A

with every step. The sconces along the walls are flickering as they cast long shadows that waver and dance,

nd me-fo

asured.

do not ask. I o

matches

at my sides, and my pulse hammers against my ribs, a caged b

lk f

oes

I lift my skirts just slightly, enough to help me move more easily. My b

th

ru

he air, the corridor blurring aro

uns af

it presses against my back like an oncoming storm.

wrench it open, throw myself inside, and t

el is

from my lungs. He steps inside in one fluid motion, the air around him humming. The

not b

my ribs, against my throat. The room tilts, blurs, and I squeeze my eye

y, I am breaking a

and another. Until the walls crack, and the dam shatters, and I

ng. "I don't want to be here. I don't-" My brea

, jagged things cl

d warm, pulling me into him. His hand smooths over my back, slow, steady, an a

oice is low, thick with

t here. You will. The beauty, the grandeur, the privileges-everyth

t know that I am not mourning the life of a princess, but the life I l

s or rooms the size of palaces. He does not know that

into an exhausted hum, Kael steps back,

tly. "Call for a maid. Tell th

t. I ask for food, for a maid to come quickly,

clothing-if I can even call it that-barely covers her breasts and buttocks. It is made of gold

r name?" I

. "Marian, Yo

head bowed, the way her fingers twi

rtable wearing

something-fear?-passes through he

d pull free a dress. Not one of the extravagant gowns lined

it out

enever you're with me, only wear things

darting to Kael, as if seeking permissio

ever so slowly, a smile blo

Princess," s

ed. She runs the bath for me, filling it with warm water, fragrant bath oils, flower petals that float upon the surface. I'd

the curtains to undress. I gradually feel l

he water. For the first time since arriving, I feel something close to comfort.

ea

settling deep. I eat until I feel full, until I remem

dessert melts on my tongue

he does not hesitate. He simply walks in as i

ot sto

into two goblets. I accept mine without

om," he says, swirling his dri

fortless. I weave stories of grand balls and silk-lined cor

curving at the edges as if he

ouldn't give away too much. It wouldn't be wise

d amused, shaking

sip m

ft. A

I say. "I'd l

readable. But then he sets his

iately, he steps closer

my hand. He moves slow, deliberate, his lips brushing against my

whirs in my ears. I don't want to mov

day, Princess

g the room witho

firm bed, staring at the ceiling, I admire the only beautiful thing in the

t of place