Page 45 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

“I can see why they’re all fighting over you, you are quite alluring.” He takes a step toward me, and I have to fight again the shudder his words induce. I become more tense with each step he takes, his movements quiet and fluid. Shaking my head, I look around to see if there is anyone else around us, someone who could help should I need it, or act as a distraction.

“I don’t want anyone fighting over me.”

Snorting, he shakes his head as he continues to prowl toward me, one slow step at a time. The closer he gets, the stronger my gut instinct is screaming,get away!

“Isn’t that all you ladies want? Princes and magicians fighting for your hand.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Your Highness, but I’m not like most ladies.” My voice hardens, my anger starting to flare up again. I’m tired of being treated like an object, something to order around, to fight over. His eyes light up as he steps in close, his hand snaking out and landing on my hip. My unease doubles and something grows within me, something unfamiliar and unknown. I want to push him away, to shout at him to never touch me again, but this is the crown prince. Goddess blessed or not, I would be executed faster than I could blink if I laid a hand on him.

“I’m beginning to see that.” Like a viper, his other hand shoots out and grabs my left arm, turning it so he can see the mark on my wrist, his thumb brushing at the fabric concealing it. If he keeps doing that, he will see my other marks hidden below the cuff. Fear courses through me and I know I need him to let go before it’s too late. Even through the light fabric, every time he brushes over my Goddess mark, nausea runs through me.

“Prince Rhydian, what are you—”

“Lady Clarissa, there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.” The queen’s voice fills the courtyard, and I’ve never been more glad to see anyone in my life. I swear Rhydian’s eyes flash with something inhuman for a second before he pastes a smile on his face and takes a step away from me. As soon as we lose contact, a wave of relief floods through me, but I try not to let it show as I slowly back away from the prince as he focuses on the queen.

“Mother. What are you doing here?”

“I came for Lady Clarissa, we have some things to discuss.”

There’s a pause as the prince stares down his mother. It’s obvious he doesn’t believe her, and from her flushed face I would guess she came here for an entirely different reason. However,she holds her own, smiling pleasantly at her son, who simply narrows his eyes before nodding.

“Mother. Lady Clarissa,” he says as a way of addressing his goodbyes, before stalking out of the courtyard with that unnatural grace of his.

The courtyard falls silent as the queen runs her eyes over me before sighing and walking up to one of the fountains, running her fingers through the water. She looks like she carries the weight of the world on her shoulders, and although I don’t know her, I wish I could offer some way to help, to lighten that burden. I probably shouldn’t, after all, her husband was the one to sentence me to a life of slavery as a child. But something about her is familiar, perhaps it’s the shared feeling of loss that makes me feel close to her.

“You wanted to see me, Your Majesty?”

“I know you’re smart, there’s no need to pretend. You needed rescuing from my son, so I provided you with an excuse. I love my son, but he’s too much like his father.”

How am I supposed to reply to that? If I agree, then I am insulting not only her son, but the crown prince, their heir to the throne. Instead, I walk up to the fountain she’s leaning against and stand beside her, facing the water as I speak.

“Thank you.” My whisper is so quiet I’m not sure she would hear it, but her soft smile and the incline of her head tells me otherwise. We stand in companionable silence, the queen and the ex-slave.

“Do you know why this courtyard is here?”

“I was told that it was a gift from your husband. There were some other stories too, but…”

“You are too kind, you can speak freely with me,” she assures, before starting her story. “I was previously married, but he died. And my current husband, the king, had always wanted me. I was in this very spot when he told me that my husband hadbeen killed. The ladies of the houses whispered that this was a romantic gesture, that the king built me a private place to grieve a lost love. But it wasn’t. He is a jealous man, my husband. He built this place to remind me of the day when my whole world changed.”

“Why do you keep coming here then?”

“I come here to remember, to remember exactly the type of person my husband is.”

I want to ask what type of person that is, but I run out of courage, instead staring at the water. The sound of footsteps echo around us and the queen lets out a small sigh as she pushes away from the fountain.

“Good night, Clarissa, it was nice to meet you formally.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

Finally alone, I collapse onto one of the stone benches and stare up at the stars, my thoughts confused and tangled. It’s been such a long day and I’m craving my ridiculously puffy bed, but I can’t face the prospect of running into anyone else in the corridors. So, I pull my feet up onto the bench and wrap my arms around my knees, my skirts long enough that they cover my feet. Instead of praying to the stars that don’t listen, I pray to the Great Mother for guidance and courage, because I get the feeling I’m going to be needing a lot of it soon.

“You didn’t come yesterday.” The elf’s lilting voice reaches me where I’m scrubbing the floor. There’s a particularly stubborn patch of dirt on this section of the flooring, so I’m down on my knees again, scrubbing brush gripped tightly in my hands. It’s tiring work, but something I’m used to, so I barely have to pause to look up at him.

“I had…other obligations to fill.” He wouldn’t understand if I told him part of the time I’m masquerading as nobility, it wouldn’t make sense. Hell, half the time it doesn’t even make sense to me.

I’m not sure how long I stayed in that courtyard last night, but eventually Grayson found me curled up on the stone bench. I was freezing and knew I needed to get up and get warm, but I was just so drained that I couldn’t face it. The mage had sat down next to me and was quiet for a while before he sighed and lifted me onto his lap. He rubbed at my exposed skin, his hands moving in comforting circles as he rested his cheek against the top of my head. Minutes or hours later, I wasn’t sure, he stoodup, taking me with him in his arms as he took us back to his rooms. I heard him talking to someone in soft tones, but I was just sotired. I woke up this morning and shared breakfast with a solemn Grayson who informed me I was working for the priests again today.

“You seem different today. Sad.” The elf’s voice pulls me out of my musings, and this time, Idostop what I’m doing, dropping the brush to the ground as I meet his gaze, frustration rising in me at his pushing.

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