Page 53 of Their Wicked Cage
His gaze flicks between me and the pile of unsent scrolls on my desk.
“Into?” I prompt, steepling my hands in front of me.
“I believe her broken heart frightened her into making a rash decision—one meant to ensure you never repeated the mistakes of your father or grandmother, and to placate the loudest voices on the council. Though their demands were rooted in fear, not reason, it’s never wise to anger the council. Their influence alone could destabilize the throne.”
The unbearable pain that sears through both me and any otherworld creature whenever I so much as touch them in a non-platonic way…
My vision flashes red at the reminder of how I and others have suffered. “What did she do?”
“I’m not certain, but I believe…” He clears his throat. “I believe the night she made you promise you wouldn’t betray the Fae Isles by sullying the Thaelon name with an otherworld bride, she entrapped you in a vow.”
I am a godsdamned fool.
I stupidly agreed to her begging me to keep the Thaelon bloodline pure, thinking that she’d pass from the wasting illness with the certainty she needed, and then I’d fall back into living my life the way I pleased.
When whispers of treason reign, a mother’s fear shall bring forth pain. But what was broken and self-denied will be mended by an otherworld bride. Only when Thaelon blood joins with other will the curse break and the Fae Isles recover.
The only way to save my kingdom and stop the pain is to do the opposite of what my mother made me promise: I must marry an otherworld bride.
Devlin’s eyes darken with what might be elation at seeing the discomfort his words brought forth. Unease courses through me. It could be a lie, but if he is certain I’m cursed, he could find a way to use it against me with the council.
“That’s absurd, Devlin,” I say. “My mother wasn’t familiar with vow magic, so why would you think she’d be able to entrap me in one?”
“Besides the obvious?” He gestures vaguely around us. “You went from bedding otherworlders daily to having a reputation for avoiding them entirely. Do you mean to tell me you had a change of heart?”
“Mind your tongue, Devlin,” says Arkyn, startling the lord out of his seat. He’d been lurking in the shadows, listening in. “Our king is free to make his own choices without being confined by some made-up vow.”
“Then why—”
“—are you so concerned with where your king sticks his cock?” he finishes for him, leaning against the wall and folding his arms across his chest. “Fae or otherworld, it doesn’t matter. What Riven does in his personal life has no consequence on the Fae Isles.”
A smooth lie.
“Well said, Ark.” I smile and pour myself a glass of wine. “I do have one more thing to share with you, Lord Devlin, and it’s something you can let the council know.”
Devlin says nothing as I hand him a letter, this one addressed to Quill.
His face flushes red as he scans the page, eyes darting up to meet mine. “You cannot be serious, Your Majesty! The council—”
There’s a gentle knock as the door cracks open, and a head full of blue-black hair pokes into the room.
“Sorry for the interruption, Your Majesty,” Lettie says. “Your witch is awake.”
I ignore the sharp look the lord throws me.
Your witch is awake.
My witch.
Gwyn is awake.
The knot in my stomach loosens.
I lean back in my seat and tell Lettie, “I’ll be right up to see her.”
“No need,” she replies softly. “She insisted I bring her to you.”
A grim thought coils through me. Perhaps Gwyn only woke from her long sleep to unleash her fury for how far I pushed her. Though, I know I deserve much worse than her ire for what I put her through.
