Page 16 of The Shadow Heir

“Getting married will not save you from your fate. It will only leave that man a widower. For I will take you, married or not. Better to let him avoid that, don’t you think?”

The wordwidowersat heavy on my chest, making it difficult to breathe. My feet missed a step of the dance, and Casimiro’s chest bumped against mine.

“Will your father kill me?” I managed to ask.

Casimiro’s eyes darkened. “No. That is not his job.”

As my fear rose, the prince’s hold on me tightened, not allowing me to miss another step. And it seemed that no one in the room—my betrothed included—felt bold enough to cut in on my dance with the fae prince. “But you said—then whose job is it?” I blurted out.

“Mine.”

My gasp was covered by the final crescendo of the dance. Shock caused me to go limp, and I felt my body falling to the floor.

No, I was being lowered, carefully, in a set of strong arms, into a deep final pose.

Casimiro stared down at me with blazing eyes, his crown somehow not falling off his perfect brow. When he lifted me, he maintained eye contact, drilling in the last word he’d spoken.

It washisjob to kill me.

While our faces were still close, he whispered, “If you do not want to die, then choose wisely.”

“Choose? What do you mean?”

But Casimiro’s hands let go, and he stepped back.

My gaze shifted to Lord Montrose. He seethed with envy or anger or both, his jaw flexing and his lips pinched.

“It is time,” the prince muttered.

“Wait!” I stepped toward the fae prince, and the entire room sucked in a scandalized gasp. I ignored them. “It's not eleven o'clock yet!"

"We have to be in the Shadow Court by the hour of your birth, or your father dies."

His words hit me like a volley of arrows. This was it. We really were out of time.

"I will say goodbye to my father.”

Without waiting for permission, I stormed away from him. Sweat poured freely down my chest as I marched through the crowd toward the head table, decorated with a heap of white and purple flowers. Papá was standing, gripping the back of his chair, his eyes on me.Everyeye in the room was on me.

As I edged around an older couple, the pair’s clasped hands briefly stole my attention. I blinked down at them, overcome with a pang of jealousy. They were entering the last season of their lives and were well wrinkled with age, but still, they clung to each other.

I’d never have that chance.

I readied myself for my stepmother’s attack regarding my dancing with the fae, but my shoulders eased as Papá swept me into a tight embrace.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said against my hair.

A half-laugh, half-cry sounded in my throat. “I’m terrified.”

He groaned. “I know,mi cariña.”

After a moment, I stepped back, swallowed the emotions clogging my throat, and finally mustered the courage to ask the one question I’d always longed to ask him. “Why?”

His eyes slowly closed and opened. “Your mother and I desperately wanted a child.”

I shook my head, willing the tears budding in my eyes not to fall. “No. You’ve told me that before. Why did you do it?”

My father’s shoulders sank, and he glanced at Nina before turning his attention back to me once more. “I loved your mother, and I would have given her the moon if she’d asked. But she didn’t ask for the moon. She asked for a child.”

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