Page 12 of The Flame and the Forsaken

“Wouldn’t you prefer an annulment to being stuck with me the rest of your life?”

Erran looked down at her. “Honestly? I don’t know.”

“How?” Her frown deepened. “It’s a simple question.”

“Aye, but I don’t know if the answer is. My responsibilities as heir are what they are, but I never considered I’d have a loveless, cold marriage such as this one.”

She nearly felt bad for him, how he’d lost Yesenia. There’d have been no better husband for the only Warwick daughter. But losing a childhood love held no mirror to all Mariel had lost. All that her people, and many other peoples, had lost, on account of his father.

“You can take as many lovers as you please. There’ll be no jealousy from me. In front of others, we play the happiest of families. We convince them we’re doing our duty whenever we step beyond these doors. When alone, we don’t have to pretend. We respect our separate lives.” She paused and then said, “That means turning the other way when I want to see my friends. Maybe even covering for me from time to time. In return, I’ll do the same.” The next part was a lie, but it needed to be said. He needed to believe she would one day be the dutiful wife he required. Only after she had what she’d come for and was gone like a wraith would he realize he’d been had. “And when I’m ready, we’ll do what we must.”

Erran seemed completely lost for words. He pursed his lips in a stilted breath, one hand knotted in his dark, wavy hair. “If that’s what you want.”

“And my brother.”

“What of him?”

“I want him at supper here once a week.”

“That’s not up to me, Mariel. He’d have to?—”

“I know,” she said softly, her eyes flashing wide at the door to remind him they had to keep their voices down. “Iknowhe has troubles. No one knows it better than me. But he’s myfamily,and he’s all alone, and if I cannot bring him here, then I’ll have to spend more time away from the Spires, which means...”

“More interference from my mother and father,” he said, his eyes slowly shuttering in understanding. Not a complete idiot then.

“Aye. And more problems we don’t need. Either of us.”

“I’ll talk to Mother.” He didn’t explain why he’d chosen to start with her, but Mariel knew. Hestia Rutland was a smooth negotiator and would cede ground to get what she wanted. Rylahn expected fealty to fall into his lap without giving up anything.

Mariel glanced at the bed. “It’s big enough we never have to touch each other...”

“You want the left or the right?”

“Right.”

A flash of disappointment crossed his face as he nodded. The right had probably been his side.

“I can take left if you prefer,” she said, feeling unexpectedly generous. For the first time since they’d said those cursed vows, they were insomethingresembling accord. Their plan would offer her the freedom she needed, and she wouldn’t have to explain herself because Erran would do it for her. As long as she kept the peace—and her animosity at bay—he’d have no reason to betray her, even as she was betraying him.

“If it’s no trouble,” he said, looking back at her.

“None at all.” Mariel waited for him to climb in before slipping onto her side. She’d been sleeping in the guest quarters while he’d been gone, as Erran’s apartments were being renovated in his absence. The guest bed was nice, but nothing like what she’d just crawled into. His sheets were luxuriously soft, slightly thicker than silk, and made of a material her family would never have used even when they could have afforded it. She slid her legs along the smooth fabric, torn by how lovely it felt and how wonderful the sleep ahead would be, all the while reminding herself she could nevereverallow herself to succumb to the lure of the comforts offered by the Rutlands and their world.

If she could commit to what she’d proposed, it would be over soon.

Destin’s tortured cries entered her thoughts. Remy’s resourcefulness born of horrors. Augustine’s warmth amid the cold. Alessia’s fierceness against the lions of the world. Magnur’s quiet strength that held them all aloft.

For them, she wouldn’t rest until she’d set the world to rights.

For herself, she wouldn’t forget who she was and how she’d been made.

And as for the Rutlands, by the time her work was done, they’d forget none of their names ever again.

Chapter3

The Toast and the Dance

Mariel hid upon one of the twelve columned balconies of Goldsea Spires overlooking the milky coastal cliffs. Beyond, the cresting waves of the White Sea ebbed as the tide washed out. Tall palms bowed and shimmered along the balmy breeze. She breathed in the briny nocturnal air and held it until her peace superseded her nerves.

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