All's Fair in Revenge

Chapter 42: An Intimate Dinner of Seven

Before an arched doorway looming like the Corpse Gate into Helheim with Prince Thorne playing the part of Garmr, its guard dog, I waited weaponless and hair in waves, in part thanks to Liv's braids. Thorne's gift dripped over my body like sticky, sweet syrup.

I steadied my breath, for beyond those doors the choices I'd make at dinner would cement my position there in Dorsette's court. If Liv had her way, I'd give up and escape through the egress Alona had circled on the map they left me, a secret door behind a tapestry in the washroom. If I hadn't avoided her, Ma'ma would've said the same. Thorne hoped for it, too, I knew.

None agreed with my plan. None supported it. All conspired against me. Then again, not a one knew what I truly had in mind, either. With some introspection, another might wonder whether they were right, whether there wasn't some smarter, safer recourse. If I thought about it long enough, if I were being honest for once, I knew my choice to stay was suicidal, masochistic even.

But I'd endure Castle Moer, endure marrying Enric, and endure being his queen—not because it was the only way or even the best way—but because it was also what I deserved. This punishment was just as much mine as it was the humans' who harbored my sister's killer, who ordered or orchestrated her death. I may not have held the dagger, yet I killed my sister all the same. Enduring was the price I'd pay until that rectifying moment when Enric realized he'd let a monster into his castle, into his bed, and she'd destroyed them all.

In truth, I'd allow every part of me to die if I meant I got to see the astonishment play across their faces, the fear glisten in their eyes, the terror etched into their very being. Simply picturing the euphoria I'd feel watching their lives end was enough to endure anything. And so, I would.

I inhaled the smell of seaweed and saltwater wafting in through the propped glass. And as I shifted my weight on the rough carpet, I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection, all at once understanding Thorne's reaction as I'd entered the sitting room earlier. The Druvix had popped out of his seat, his stare trailing the length of me, his breath quickening beneath his shirt. I waited for some sort of compliment, something dirty and wildly inappropriate. It never came. Yet when he held out his hand, I didn't miss the way his body tensed under my touch. It pained him.

It pained me more.

Was there some consolation in that? In staying at the castle, risking glances and stealing moments? I dared not dream it for they'd quickly become nightmares.

The Druvix had avoided me since our arrival, his focus pinned to the hall with his back at the door. He was taller than me, bulkier. Dark circles ringed his eyes. Scruff grew along his jaw.

I wanted to ask him whether Alona had made it through his scolding unscathed. I wanted to tease him about his father-like tendencies. But a wall separated us. One I'd built but he'd reinforced.

Nearby a tower in the city tolled. His silver eyes snapped to mine. My breath staggered. My chest clenched. And for but a moment, I thought I might crack.

"Ready?" he asked.

"As ever."

At the entrance to Enric's private quarters, two guards grasped the golden latches and swung each open, revealing a grand sitting room set for tea and a line of servants in uniforms I didn't recognize: his personal attendants. I strode into the room on bare feet having refused to wear the heeled torture devices sent with the dress. The accompanying corset would be enough distress for one night.