“What were you using your clever mind to daydream about just now, my sweet? Killian’s cock?”
I crack my palm across his cheek and storm off the dance floor. I may be his captive, but we have spoken no vows and for the moment, I am still free to walk away.
19
Killian
Briar strikes Alistair and a hush falls over the room. No doubt he deserved it.
Before I can blink or think, I’m halfway across the room, hugging the edge of the dance floor. I’m so focused on my quarry that I startle when Alistair grabs my shoulder, scowling, and says, “Let her go.”
“What did you say to her?”
“Nothing important.”
“Itisimportant. I’m the one you tasked with protecting her. Your own lecher of a father tried to put his hand up her skirt at dinner. Do you know how lucky he is to be walking around without a stump right now?”
A dark glare flickers over the prince’s features, there and gone.
“I wouldn’t have been able to save you from yourself if you had harmed the king, Kill. You know that. But why are you so protective of Rose all of a sudden?”
For fuck’s sake, this man.
“I quote, ‘my bride had better be alive and untouched the day after tomorrow.’” I throw his words back at him and hold his eye. “I thought that applied to everyone, including your sire.”
Alistair is a messed-up asshole of a prince but he comes by his messiness honestly. Or did. There was a time when I believed he was a better man than I. Our stations in life are as opposite as one can imagine, but we came from similarly shitty circumstances. Me, a whore’s son, abandoned like Briar at birth. He, a king’s son, raised in an atmosphere of luxury without love. Neither of us knew love, nor believed it had any place in our lives.
Then Briar happened. She made us both want things we never had before. Turned us into a couple of lovesick saps feuding over a woman. Part of me is disgusted with us for letting a female come between us.
The rest of me wants to kill him for even thinking about touching her.
“I can’t control my father,” he growls, barely audible. People around us strain to overhear. Fucking gossips.
“You can’t control yourself, either, apparently. What did you say to her?”
“Why do you care?”
I raise both hands, gloved palms out. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”
His possessiveness of Briar is turning Alistair into a worse version of his father. Maybe that’s her curse. To bring out the true nature of all those around her. The ones who fawn over wealth and beauty turn obsequious to the point of ridiculousness. People who covet beauty or power will go to unimaginable lengths to control her.
She is a mirror to the ugliness inside us, and her beauty compels us to look. We can’t tear ourselves away from our own self-loathing.
Alistair can’t bear to see himself as anything less than perfect. He’s relied upon me for years to maintain his image of the strong, capable prince, but Briar saw right through that façade. She sees us both for what we truly are.
I shake Alistair off and stride away. “You have a mess to clean up. Go explain yourself to your nobles. I have a princess to protect.”
Briar
I hate it here.
But where else can I go? The castle atop Thorn Mountain is the only place I can think of, but it’s full of monsters.
I fight my way to the edge of the dance floor holding back tears of raw emotion.
Finding a quiet place to be alone for a few minutes proves to be almost impossible. Everyone wants to congratulate me or touch me or stare at me in awe, and I don’t have the heart to refuse the ones who offer congratulations upon my upcoming nuptials. It’s not every day that a legend comes to life and is set to become your next queen. They mean to be kind, however misplaced.
Alistair knows I don’t want him. I didn’t think he cared.
