Page 72 of Sweet Briar


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The guards drag me naked and struggling down the empty halls of Belterre Castle. If there was any point to it, I’d twist out of their grip and run, but as long as Alistair has Briar, I’m not going anywhere. This is my last stand.

The men throw me into Alistair’s monster trophy room, and throw a pair of trousers at me. I’m still buttoning the fly when he storms in, strides over, and throws a punch.

I let him. I damn well earned the burst of pain, the snap of my head, the gush of blood from my nose.

“You lying coward.”

He swings at me again. This time, I put up my arms to protect my face.

“Is this why you did it?” Alistair shoves my marked arm. The mark beneath my scar has darkened and thickened. “She did something to you. Bent you to her will. Tell me it was her fault, Kill. Maybe I’ll let you live.”

“I did it because I love her.”

Guilt grabs me by the balls and twists.

Alistair scoffs. “You. In love.”

“Yes.”

Lightness settles over me, having said it. I should have told her while I still had the chance.

“Are you hoping I’ll send the two of you off to live out your happy ever after?” He sneers, then jabs his finger at the wall of dead monsters. “You think you can fight off all those things and keep her safe.”

“I did it once.” I wipe the blood from my face with the back of one hand and gesture at the wall of trophies for proof. His scowl deepens. “The only reason you were able to kill the gryphon that crashed your ball yesterday evening is because it was distracted by her.”

His face mottles red with fury. I’ve taken his woman and his victory in battle. The last thread of friendship snaps.

I feel lighter. Maybe blunt words aren’t so bad, when they carry the weight of truth. Ours was a friendship based on lies and half-truths, but now my loyalty to him is over. I’m free of my vow, and not because he granted it to me. It was always mine to give.

Briar gave me the courage to claim my freedom.

She has my heart, my loyalty, my everything, forever. I give it all to her.

I wipe away the blood dripping from my nose. It’s not broken. Alistair’s strong but he’s still a pampered prince, shaking his hand and wincing. Hitting me hurt him as much as it did me.

“The monsters will keep coming, Alistair. Magic demands balance. When she was born with that face and body, her beauty had to be balanced with ugliness. The monsters will be drawn to her for as long as she lives.”

He chuckles, a low, nasty sound.

“Is that why you think she’ll choose you?” He shoves me. “Because you’re an ugly beast, too?”

Fuck him.

I swing. Alistair ducks. I clip his jaw.

“You were prepared to burn your life to the ground for a chance to get between her creamy thighs, weren’t you,” the prince says, backing up as I advance. “No wonder everyone leaves you, Kill. You’re nothing but a cheating, lying killer.”

I swing, and this time I don’t miss. Alistair reels, then straightens. Blood drips down his chin onto his frothy white shirt.

“Did she tell you she loves you?” He scoffs. “You wouldn’t know what to do with it if you had it, Ironheart. Love is useless. Love makes fools of us. I thought you knew better.”

I hate that he’s right.

I lunge, but he’s ready for me. Alistair’s leg shoots out at the same time he shoves open the sliding panel, and I go tumbling down into his hellhole of despair.

Briar

On the morning of my wedding day, I’m roused from a fitful rest by the maids. They fly into a tizzy, ordering cucumbers and tea poultices from the kitchen to fix my cry-reddened eyes and summoning the beleaguered healer, pleading with her to do anything she can to improve my appearance.