For the promise of his father was more than generously bestowed on the son.
“Father,” Edain said, a dangerously mocking smile on his face as he nodded to his adversary.
Reynar froze, a brief flash of horror flirting through his eyes as Edain turned toward Mother.
“And my dearest stepmother,” Edain purred, as he went to one knee and kissed her hand.
I don’t know why he came to our court—whether it was to strike vengeance into his faithless father’s heart, or whether it was tear them apart—but the second my mother laid eyes upon him, she could not look away.
“Andraste?” There’s no sign of his sneer now. Merely something rough I can’t identify.
And I’m left scrambling to remember what he asked me.
“Perhaps you’re here because you enjoy seeing me in this state.” I turn on my toes, and agony flares through the right arch of my foot. I’ve been balanced like this for far too long. “Or perhaps you’re here because my mother sent you to do her bidding, like her favorite little pet. I guess we’ll find out.”
He laughs under his breath. “I almost missed your insults. And yes, I guess you’ll find out.”
Hands toy with my wrists, and the heat of his skin warms mine as he stretches up to unlock me. After so long without comfort or warmth, I can barely resist leaning into him, even though I’m fairly certain I stink, and though the servants have doused me with buckets of water every now and then, my skin feels grimy.
“Have a care, my lord. You might soil your robes. I’m still covered in blood and dirt from the Queensmoot.”
He pauses, and I wonder at the hesitation, before his hands turn the key in the lock. “If you think dirt and blood concern me, then you’re most mistaken.”
I tense for the inevitable. My chains start loosening, feeling flooding into raw, bloodless fingers.
I’m finally allowed down from my toes, but my feet have spent too long arched into agonizing points. They’re not prepared for my weight.
As my arms fall, my body collapses like dead meat, and a scream escapes me, regardless of intent.
Somehow, I don’t hit the cold stone floor.
Firm arms catch me and draw me into an embrace, and I barely have the breath to protest. Everything hurts. Everything. My right arm is a blaze of agony, and I fear I’ve dislocated the shoulder.
“Easy” comes a gentle whisper.
I cling to him, quivering from shock as blood rushes back into my starving limbs. And to think that only moments ago, I was saying that pain would not break me.
“Shush.” There are hands on my back, rubbing firmly enough to steal my attention away from my arms and feet.
Oh, gods…. I don’t even have the strength to care if my mortal enemy is the one consoling me. No doubt I’ll pay the price for this later, but right now, I don’t care.
I can’t feel my fingers or move my arm. I clutch at it uselessly, trying to ease the weight of it, and then Edain sets gentle fingers to the socket.
“This might hurt a little,” he says. “On the count of three. One, two—”
He gives a sharp jerk, and I scream as the arm is shoved back into the socket. Mother of mercy. Trembles shiver through me. I think I’m going to be ill, but the last thing I want to do is vomit on his shoes.
Not in front of him.
I grind my teeth together and fight the urge, swallowing down the pain.
Pain is life. Pain is an old friend.
But it doesn’t feel like a friend now. It feels like a bitter enemy stealing the strength from my veins.
“You’ve been here for weeks,” Edain says. “So sit on your ass until you’ve got your feet beneath you.” He slips a waterskin from around his shoulder. “And I’ll pretend I didn’t see your knees quiver.”
He’s being kind.
Edain is being kind.
Which means this is bad.
“Who are you? Because I’m fairly certain you’re not my evil stepbrother.” I have to work out what my mother has planned. It could be anything, it could be—
My mind shies away from that thought, because I don’t dare betray myself, even in the privacy of my own head.
“I’m the male who’s been forced to deal with a furious queen for the past month. What in the Underworld happened at the Queensmoot?” he growls, unscrewing the lid from the water skin.
Nothing else matters. My dry mouth salivates, and I grab at the skin.
He lets me drink, though he takes it away far too quickly.
“You’ll make yourself ill,” he murmurs.
I don’t care.
I just want more water.
“In a minute,” he says, and I realize he’s stroking my hair back off my face. “Tell me what happened at the Queensmoot?”
So that’s to be the price of his kindness.
I laugh, a dry, rasping sound. “My sister broke the curse Mother placed on her. She remembered her husband at the last second and then unleashed some kind of magic upon Mother. They drove us back.”
“I’m not talking about your sister.” His gentle touch is on my face again, though his eyes are as hard as ice. “Why were you sentenced to the oubliette?”
I bow my head.
“Please. Please! If there’s any part of you that ever loved me, please stop this.”
It doesn’t matter how many times I close my eyes, I see Vi begging me for help. “Because I dared ask for mercy. It was killing Vi. I couldn’t—”
You don’t admit your weaknesses to an enemy.
I shut my mouth.
Curse it. He’s caught me at a bad moment.
“Mother blames me for what happened,” I say instead and lift my head to meet his gaze.
His lashes shield his merciless blue eyes. “She does, though she won’t speak of it. I wondered why she held you accountable.”
“How angry is she?” There’s no more strength left in me. I lean my head back against his thigh.
He laughs under his breath. “Angry enough to burn the fucking castle to the ground. I think you need to
