“Alistair, theydon’t.”
But gods, what if he’s right? I don’t call them consciously, yet they do appear to congregate whenever I’m distressed.
“They do!” he roars. “Youwilllearn to control them, Rose. It will take time to build an army that can fight alongside yourmonsters, but I am confident you will learn to command the fae beasts.
Alistair crosses his hands behind his back and paces the room.
“As of this morning, Kill is a free man, the owner of a cursed castle infested with fae beasts, and a duke. I made him everything he is, just as I can make you into a queen,” he gives me a knowing smirk. “Or an example.”
I want to claw the smug satisfaction off his face, but before I can lunge for his throat, he yanks open the curtain covering a Juliet balcony. My jaw drops open at the sight of the ancient queen in pillory on a hastily-built platform in the private courtyard below.
“Not long from now, you will walk down that aisle and accept my ring with a smile, or you will join her on that platform.”
“What will you do to her?” I manage to rasp through dry lips.
“At the conclusion of our ceremony, your curse will finally be broken.”
“You mean to bed me immediately after.”
“I have desired you for weeks, Rose. For weeks, you have denied me. Can you blame me for wanting to claim what’s mine?”
He twitches my veil straight, almost tenderly.
Death, or marriage. Those are my choices.
Alistair has glimpsed my darkness, and to my surprise he did not shy from it. He believes he can tame me and my wild things. Own me the way he believes he’s entitled to everything else in this land.
He needs a reminder that he does not yet rule.
“Nothing in this kingdom is yours, Prince. It is the king’s. You are only Belterre’s caretaker-in-waiting.”
Alistair’s blue eyes crinkle in a smile that does nothing to warm his eyes.
“My father will step aside once our honeymoon is over. He’ll have to. While I’m busy removing any doubt around our progeny’s fatherhood, your monsters will continue to rampage across the country. I won’t be the one in charge. My father will be. By the time I release you from my bed, the people will beg me to save them from the fae monsters.”
He takes my hands, both of them this time.
“With you, I can finally prove I am the bravest, strongest prince in all the land. The people will clamor for me to save them. I can hear them now. Can you?”
From the open window, I can see harpies winging in the distance. People chant my name, along withBrave Prince Alistair.
I taste bile.
“You see? The people love me now. All thanks to you, my darling Rose.”
In the next breath, a sip of air that doesn’t loosen the vise around my ribs one iota, a rush of longing washes over me so strong I can’t escape the pull. Killian is the one I drank poison for, because I knew, even when I was only twenty-two and not a hundred and twenty-two, that my knight was out there.
Even if his armor gleams black instead of shining silver, Killian is my knight. Mine.
Not the prince’s.
Alistair was simply the means fate chose to bring me the one I needed. I did need to be rescued by a prince. In a way.
Fairy tales are told after the fact. They’re a gloss we paint over darker truths. We tell the stories as we want to hear them.
I stare blankly at the floor.
My heart bleeds openly inside my chest, yet my pristine white dress remains unstained. How is it possible? There should be blood everywhere from the force of this blow.
