Page 60 of The Rat King
“Come, my queen,” he said, choosing a different tactic. “That’s what you wanted isn’t it? Now you’re queen, to a king who’s heart you hold. Who you love and makes you feel as no other man would, Avery. A man who wishes to give you—”
“Will you just shut up,” I said. I had to think for a minute. If I really considered things, my predicament wasn’t terrible. I felt betrayed and heartbroken, but I knew in my bones Nighval wouldn’t force himself on me and after what these poor people had been through, they deserved for their world to be set to rights, as Nighval put it. And maybe I’d eventually convince him to send me back. Better to play along for now.
“Okay,” I said, placing my hand in his. “But do not misinterpret my willingness to work beside you as my forgiveness. That you will never earn.”
A devious grin lit his face, and he jerked me forward, sweeping me into his arms, and I gulped down a sharp breath of air. “I won you once. I can do it again,” he said as his hands moved beneath where his arms held me. In a blink, we were standing on the top of the stairs at his—our—palace.
Uniformed guards stood as men, not rat-men, on either side of the main entrance and, as we appeared before them. They gave a prideful look to their king. He still wore that smug smile and he nodded at them as a man full of self-congratulation, because he’d won. He’d beaten his mother even though he had to ask for her help. She’d given it to him for whatever unfathomable reason and now he was carrying his naked bride with only a ruined garment pressed to her chest back to his home. Fortunately, the men hardly spared me a glance, probably because of the possessive nature of their ruler, so my modesty was spared.
“What are you doing?” I hissed, feeling much like the spoils of war. I had no intention of letting him plunder me, however.
“I read about marital traditions in your plane. Isn’t it proper for a man to carry his bride across the threshold of her new home?” he asked, and he did just that. A few strides and my husband had carted me into the palace and made his way up the stairs toward the room I had been using. Thank goodness he didn’t appear to be headed toward his room, because that was another thing that was not happening.
“Yeah, that was a thing from like fifty years ago. These days, women aren’t such damsels. Sorry to burst your bubble.”
“How reassuring, because I’m not sure a damsel could handle me, sweetheart. You, on the other hand, seem able to take me just fine.” He kicked my door and strode into the room with all the authority of the man that he was. Walking over to my enormous bed, he tossed me onto it. Literally tossed me so that I bounced a foot in the air when I hit.
“What the hell?” I yelled after him as he abruptly turned and stalked out of the room. He didn’t answer me, only leaving the echo of his chuckle in his wake as he retreated down the hallway.
I sat up from where I had been discarded on the bed. The moon was nowhere in sight, and I could see a faint glow edging up on the horizon. I don’t know if it was my exhaustion, my exertion from the chase, my wedding, or the fluffy bed I was now lying in, but everything hit me at once, and I felt like the bed might swallow me up whole.
I threw the nightie to the side and crawled into the covers, uncaring that someone may come in here in a few short hours and find me in this state. I needed sleep, and I needed to think. That was when the tears came. I didn’t realize I was such a crier, but I never had a broken heart before. I never went through what I’ve been through this past year before. Until now, I had lived a relatively pain-free life. I lost my mother, but I had been a baby when that had happened, so my aunt had been my caretaker, and I didn’t know any different. I lost no other relatives. I never lost a friend, like other kids did either. The truth was, even though the witches prepared me to come here as best they could, I was so sheltered. I just never realized that until now.
To give my husband credit, he had helped me work through some of the trauma that I experienced since I had gotten here. Held me as I relived those horrible nights I went through to get here. And I thought I had found somewhere safe, only to have it ripped away from me.
I had never been upset about not having power, but now I wished I had inherited it. Because I would use every shred to rain hellfire down on his mother. Except she must be one powerful witch if Nighval couldn’t spare the world from her existence. But from what I understood, he had only been nineteen himself when she cursed them. Maybe now he could unalive her. Surely, he was powerful enough. That was definitely something he could do to get back in my good graces.
I don’t know how long I lay there with tears streaming down my face, when I heard soft footsteps approach. The covers rustled and his weight lowered onto the bed. My heart seized up. “Get out,” I said.
“No,” he replied, and I felt his body shift and his warmth was near my back.
I sobbed. Just the proximity of him was robbing me of breath. “Please, just leave.”
“No,” he repeated. “What type of man would I be if I left my wife alone, crying on her wedding night? I’m not leaving you.” He emphasized this by snuggling an arm around my waist and pulling me flush against him. A chill drifted in through the broken seals in the windows, which direly needed maintenance, and the fire had long since died. I hated how good his warmth felt, how much like home it had already become, almost as much as I hated him.
Knowing there was no point in resisting when this man made up his mind, I released an exasperated sigh and closed my eyes. I wouldn’t realize until later that morning whenever I awoke alone that his mere presence had stopped the tears.
Chapter 43
Avery
Janeswishedintotheroom sometime the next morning. The rising sun peeked in through the curtains and while I had stopped crying, an overwhelming sense of dread settled in. How had I let this happen? How had I been so stupid?
I replayed the events of the last couple of months, and I realized I should have noticed little things that might have led to questions which might have led to the truth. But I was so relieved to be with him, to be safe, to feel heard and comforted, so stupidly desperate, that I’d been willingly blind.
How had the curse made me see everything so differently? How was Nighval spared, but the other rat-people who lived here weren’t? I can’t believe I’d fallen for it.
And him, a man, a warlock, who was clearly a predator, who loved chasing me, and taking what he wanted, who acknowledged he didn’t deserve me, had been the architect of it all. The image of him flashed through my mind. Tall, the overpowering sense of dominance that he exuded, and those scars. Now that I had my memories back, I remembered the first time I’d seen him with them in the library, I had been terrified. His nearly black eyes and all of that power that just radiated off of him. How had I fallen in love with that?Because he’s super hot, and sweet, and gentle, and so utterly male—shut up, I scolded my wandering thoughts. And why did, in his absence, my chest twist and pinch in such a painful way?
But it hadn’t been the first time I succumbed to his dark charms. I’d let him almost ravish me against a tree whenever I knew full well who he was, so maybe I was a bit to blame, too. But that still couldn’t make up for the sense of betrayal that seemed to seep into every cell in my body.
Be logical. I needed to think about things in a practical context. The curse was broken along with my heart, and I needed to get the fuck out of here. I knew I promised him I would rule alongside him, but these people weren’t my problem. As far as I was concerned, they were guilty of collusion. Not only that, when I got back to my plane, I was going to get on Wikipedia, find out where ole’ Walt’s grave was, and go there and spit on it. What a complete and total sham.
I was building up the case so firmly in my mind against everyone I believed to be guilty, I winced when Gran Jane said, “Your bath is ready.”
I dragged myself out of bed. As I padded by the mirror, I glanced at my reflection. The tip of my nose was an angry red, my eyes were bloodshot, and there were bags underneath them. I never had bags underneath my eyes. The chilly air peaked my stupid nipples, and they were probably wondering where the skilled man who squeezed them so nicely was. I still felt his presence lingering between my thighs. I assessed my backside for marks and thankfully there were none, then ran my fingers through my hair, finding a leaf in all the tangles.
I held it between my fingers for a long moment as Jane stood staring at her feet, waiting patiently. Her eyes flicked up to meet mine. “What are you looking at?” I snapped, and then immediately felt guilty for it. “Sorry.”
