Page 9 of Magic of Sins

From the disapproving expression in his steel-gray eyes, I can tell that I’m not reacting quickly enough. I hastily rise from my chair, which begins to sway and almost topples over, and sink into a deep curtsy.

He’s tall, at least six feet. I never noticed that before. His brown hair is streaked with gray. It’s the only thing about him that isn’t perfect. His gray suit fits him to a T and doesn’t have a single crease; his black shoes are polished to a shine.

“Your Majesty,” I say as I stare at the tips of his shoes that have stopped in front of me.

“You don’t speak until spoken to,” he cuts me short.

I bite my lower lip. Of course. I know all this, I learned it in school. But I never thought I would actually have to use the knowledge one day.

His hand, clad in a black leather glove, grabs my chin and lifts it, forcing me to look up at him. There’s something hard and unyielding about his gaze. It may also be because of his striking features. He’s the opposite of his bubbly daughter. It’s hard to believe they’re related.

“So, this is her?” the king asks with raised eyebrows.

“Yes, father.”

Ophelia, who was shining so brightly a moment ago, is now speaking softly. I think I hear a tremor in her voice.

“She seems rather ordinary. I wonder what that sin mage sees in her.”

“I don’t know, father.”

Ordinary—it should probably please me to be called that. Ordinary means inconspicuous, not charming enough to tempt someone to sin. But coming from the king’s mouth it sounds like a cussword.

Finally, he lets go of my chin. I suppress the impulse to rub my aching neck.

“Well, we might as well get started. Miss Ashton, are you ready?”

“Ready for what, Your Majesty?” I ask.

Instead of answering me, the king turns to his daughter. “You did talk to her, didn’t you?” he asks impatiently. “She knows why she was brought here?”

“Of course, but …”

Ophelia’s eyes dart to me. She looks at me apologetically.

“There’s no time to waste,” the king says gruffly. “I want this unfortunate affair dealt with.”

Understanding dawns. How foolish of me to believe I would be given the choice whether to meet the sin mage and allow himto feed on me. There is no choice to be had. I will be given no respite, no reprieve. I’ll just be handed over to Caden Nox like a lamb to slaughter.

“I’ll be waiting downstairs.”

The king turns and leaves by the same door through which he entered the room a few minutes earlier. I try to right myself, but my knees feel terribly weak. Ophelia rushes to my side and holds out her hand.

“I’m sorry. I thought we’d have more time,” she apologizes.

How much more?I’d like to ask. Minutes? Hours? She must have known I had no choice but to comply with the request. Because it was never a request, was it?

I ignore her outstretched hand and hold onto one of the chairs. The world around me seems to sway.

Just dinner,I tell myself.It’s just one dinner.

“We don’t have to go right away,” Ophelia offers. “We can have another cup of tea. It will help you calm down.”

What’s the point when the outcome is inevitable? I shake my head resolutely.

“No, I want to get it over with.”

“Are you sure?”

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