Page 68 of Her Dark Reflection

He smiled coldly. ‘That won’t end well for you. You made me a promise and I made you a queen, remember?’

‘Exactly. I am a queen,’ I said, drawing myself up and glaring at him. ‘Maybe I choose to throw you into the dungeons and let you rot down there.’

He sighed. ‘I had hoped I wouldn’t have to threaten you but suspected you might make it necessary. Let me explain something to you. Your position is a precarious one.’ He tugged one of the camellias from the vase by my breakfast tray and twirled it in his fingers. ‘Your advisors and lords already mistrust you. If you broke our deal and lost your glamour now, how long do you think it would be before they cried profane magic use?’ He began to pluck the petals from the flower. They dropped to the tabletop one by one, scattering across the wood like little pink slivers of flesh. ‘What a perfect villain you’d make. The wicked whore who poisoned the king, first with love and then with death.’ He stared at the centre of the camellia, now bereft of petals, before letting it fall.

‘What makes you think I wouldn’t drag you down with me?’ I said, though I knew he would be too slippery to hang on to. I’d rather go down standing tall and owning my actions than howling about the man who made me do it to people who wouldn’t believe me.

‘Come, Rhiandra, you are smarter than that. A wicked queen casting a spell on the king is a much better story than one where you are just a puppet. Imagine how the Grand Paptich will fawn over the chance to make an example of you, to hold you up as the embodiment of the evil nature of women.’ He approached me and I didn’t back away, staring him down as he took my limp hand in his. ‘Marry me,’ he murmured as he raised my hand to his mouth, ‘and rule Brimordia by my side.’

‘A sham marriage,’ I said, snatching my hand back. ‘And a sham position for me. A queen only has power alone. I’d be a figurehead with you as king.’

He laughed, the sound dark and rumbling from deep in his chest. ‘No sham, my dear. I might rule the country,’ he sank to one knee slowly, his eyes still fixed on mine, which were wide with shock at the sight of him kneeling on the floor, ‘but you’ll rule me. Marry me and I will be a husband to you in every sense of the word.’

Kneeling may have been a sign of surrender, but he looked anything but conquered as he took my hand again. This was no declaration of love.

I could tell my mouth had fallen open, but I couldn’t seem to shut it. ‘I… I have to think about this,’ I stammered finally, backing away until I felt the bed behind me and sat down heavily. Not a good choice of places to go. All being on the bed did was bring his words into hyper focus.I will be a husband to you in every sense of the word.

He smirked as he rose to his feet, straightened his clothes, and pushed his dark hair from his face. If my response had humbled him, he didn’t show it. ‘You do that,’ he said, turning to leave. ‘I’ll give you three days to make your decision.’

And just like that, he was gone again. The only sign he’d been there at all was the crumpled nightgown, the rearrangement of my side table, the scattering of petals over my breakfast.

Shermanscurriedafterme,bending and scraping as he tried to match my stride. ‘Your Royal Highness, it would be for the best if you allowed your generals to take care of matters regarding the protection of the borders. They have a wealth of experience and are really best placed to make such decisions.’

I stopped suddenly, causing him to run into one of my attendants. I eyed him as he cursed at the woman and fluffed about straightening his clothes, distaste creasing the skin of my nose. ‘Sherman,’ I barked, and he snapped to attention. ‘Is the patronising tone a deliberate affectation, or do you lack the self-awareness to notice it?’

He spluttered, his face turning red. ‘I am merely pointing out to Your Royal Highness—’ he began, but I cut him off.

‘That I am not competent in making military decisions and should leave it to the men, yes, I know. But if they were as good as you say they are, the attacks would have stopped, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.’

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking like he was casting about for a reply—or perhaps he was just trying to catch an insect for his lunch—but I had spotted Gwinellyn walking a path on the other side of the fountain with someone dressed in black. I started towards them, my pace quickly picking up, my heart beginning to pound. The sound of her laugher drifted to me on the breeze, a tinkling harmony against the falling water.

The sound of half a dozen attendants rushing to catch up with me forced me to stop and spin on my heel. ‘You’re dismissed,’ I said curtly. ‘All of you.’ I looked pointedly at Sherman. ‘I wish to walk alone.’

Gwinellyn’s face was glowing with pleasure, which was not a common sight these days. She paused as she caught sight of me, and my eyes zeroed in on the way her hand reached out and touched her companion’s forearm to halt him, so casually, almost instinctive.

‘Let me introduce you to my stepmother,’ the girl gushed, turning to me with a grin. ‘Have you met Lord Martalos?’

Draven bowed low, keeping his grey eyes fixed on me as he did, a mocking smile curling at the edges of his mouth. ‘Your Royal Highness.’

‘Why are you unchaperoned?’ I snapped, and the smile slipped from Gwin’s face.

‘I thought—’

‘And you should be at your lessons. If you’re going to be queen, start acting like one.’ She flinched a little as my words cut into her and her eyes grew glassy, but she kept her head high as she mumbled ‘As you please, Your Royal Highness,’ and she took off across the lawns without another word.

‘By the sky, Rhiandra, you’re going to make this too easy,’ Draven drawled.

‘Stay away from her.’

He laughed as though he didn’t notice I was trying to fry his innards with my glare alone. ‘If you keep talking to her like that, she’ll come straight to me.’

I balled my fists in my skirt, glancing around to make sure no one was within earshot. My attendants had done as I commanded and left me alone, and while there were others out promenading around the gardens, they were nowhere near us. ‘She is going to be married to the Oceatold prince. You can’t just pluck her for yourself.’

He shrugged. ‘A political match won’t trump love for a sixteen-year-old, particularly if she is enchanted. We can elope to avoid any objections and then return to take the throne.’ He squinted at the palace, shielding his eyes against the sun. ‘I think I’ll rather enjoy living here.’

‘You said you’d give me time to decide,’ I hissed, moving closer to him.

He tapped a finger against his wrist. ‘Tick tock, Vixen, before I make the decision for you.’

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