Magic tingles over my face. Exasperated, she throws up her hands, saying it’s hopeless.
Precisely how I feel.
I’m suffocating from the pressure of expectations. How am I going to get out of this without Killian’s help?
“The prince awaits you in the cathedral receiving room.” She drapes a veil over my face. “There. This will conceal the worst of it. Can’t have you crying on your own wedding day.”
If I’d hoped to find Killian outside my room, my foolishness is rebuked by the presence of six armed guards, all stone-faced strangers.
I am escorted to a palatial cathedral with my maids carrying my long train and the veil.
“Where is he?” I demand the instant we’re alone. If Killian is dead, I’ll feed him to the monsters. Let them tear the prince to pieces.
I notice his lower lip is swollen and take grim satisfaction that my knight got in at least one good shot.
“You look divine, my sweet.”
Alistair looks handsome, hard, and calculating—like the fate I risked death to escape a hundred years ago.
“Killian. Your knight. Where is he?”
Hard blue eyes meet mine over my gloved knuckles where he’s bent to brush a kiss. I resist the temptation to snatch my hand away.
“He’s gone, Rose. I signed a decree dismissing him from service this morning. As of an hour ago, he is on his horse headed back to that monster nest you call a castle. Alone.”
I’d have taken the news that he’d been hanged better.
I guess I’m not worth fighting for, after all.
The strongest, most valiant knight in all Belterre just up and left me to endure the consequences of our shared actions, alone.
Alistair would rather die than allow the fact that I slept with Killian to become public knowledge, but clearly we’re going to have the truth out in private before we marry. If only I could corral my racing thoughts and heartache that he’s gone.
The prince moves in closer, likely as a precaution against being overheard, but the effect is menacing. Intentionally so, judging from the razor edge in his tone.
“Whatever you think you feel for him, Rose, I assure you, it is entirely one-sided. You are not the first woman to fall for his heartless rogue act, and you will not be the last.”
I loathe his sneering tone, even as a sick, small part of me agrees.
“My name is Briar.”
He drags the back of his knuckle down the curve of my cheek. An answering shudder quakes down my spine. He senses my revulsion. I brace for a slap that doesn’t come.
The prince only wanted to make me flinch, to prove he could.
“You are Rose, the Lost Princess Aurora of Isanthia, the Sleeping Beauty of legend, and you will marry me. Today. With your monsters at my command, I will be able to expand Belterre’s territory. Even conquer Isanthia.” Again, he touches my cheek. “Wouldn’t that feel good, Rose? To take revenge upon the people who abandoned you?”
He grabs my chin, not gently, and forces me to look at him. I glare daggers and say, “No.”
I don’t crave revenge upon anyone. Then the other thing he said sinks in. I dig my nails into his wrist. “Why do you think I can control them?”
He releases me with a light shove.
“You can call them without even trying.”
“No, I can’t.”
“They come at your beck and call.”
