Page 113 of Bride of the Fae Prince

But it feels like he is.

Do I even know Ash like I think I do? It’s too much to worry about right now. Something changed earlier between us, and I’m not sure what it was. We’re still allies, and we’re still married, but can we trust each other?

I’m starting to believe we can’t.

There’s something deeply wounded about Ash, and if he doesn’t change, if he doesn’t stop making decisions out of pain and spite, I’m not safe with him. And if I’m not safe with my own husband in this foreign world, then the only prudent option is to escape.

The thought fills me with such deep sadness, I barely maintain my composure.

I’d truly believed I’d found something special with him. Something I hadn’t dared dream of. Someone who truly saw me, cared for me—lovedme. Someone who would defy heaven and hell for me.

Was I just seeing what I wanted to see?

This is getting too far out of my control, too far from my father’s intentions for marrying me off, too far from protecting my people—too far. I need to get out of here.

I shift my weight again, loosen my shoulders as I exhale. My heart doesn’t stop aching—won’tstop aching. As expected.

They don’t call it heartbreak because it feels good.

My breath cuts off suddenly. I try to inhale—can’t. Panic flares, hot and heady. I can’t even choke. It’s like something has wrapped around my throat. Something that slowly squeezes the life out of me.

I can’t make a sound, even as I fall to my knees, grabbing at my throat. My vision tunnels.

And then, abruptly, it stops. Air floods my lungs. I drag in one heaving gasp after another, clutching my chest as I lift my eyes.

The High King clenches his hand into a fist. And Ash’s hand is extended, flat, toward me, blocking the High King’s fist. He isn’t looking at me, instead staring at his father.

“Don’t youdaretouch my wife,” he snarls.

The High King merely smirks and lets his fist relax. Ash pulls back his own hand—and goes back to eating. I stay where I am, palm flat on the floor, my skirts billowing around me as I breathe heavily.

Shaking, I get to my feet. Ash hasn’t so much as glanced at me. Hasn’t looked to see if I’m alright. This charade is so important to him he cannot break character for the span of one glance.

He did save me.

Perhaps he’s more aware of me than he lets on. Or perhaps I’m just seeing what I want to see. Again.

He must protect me because if I die, his bid for the throne and his life will be over. There are many reasons to ensure I remain alive. None of them need to be about truly caring for me. I need to stop thinking that they do.

I need to talk to Rahk. He might kill me. Perhaps he’s nothing but glamour and falsehoods too. Somehow, I cannot believe either of those things. Rahk has been levelheaded and straightforward every time I’ve spoken with him. He was the one who explained Ash’s background to me when no one else had—including Ash.

His room isn’t far from here.

And if Ash isn’t going to ensure my people aren’t slaughtered tomorrow, then maybe I can talk to Rahk and see if he has any ideas. If there’s information I need to know that Ash wouldn’t tell me. Perhaps he can help me get word of the attack to my father, so an effort at preparation and evacuation can be made.

I’ve stayed as a decoration long enough in this hall. With one last glance at Ash, at the High King and the merriment happening at the banquet, I turn and slip out of the doors, unimpeded. They close behind me without a sound, swallowing up the noise and laughter and clinking crystal, the painted ceiling of human footstools. The guards pay me no heed as I level my shoulders and march down the hallway.

It’s strange, being in these empty hallways mostly alone.

The ache in my heart eases, my mind sharpening. Keeping my eyes and ears open, I walk down the next hallway, reciting in my head the directions Ash gave me. To my relief, I encounter no one.

Night is falling, throwing shadows over the white marble of the palace. Statues are cast in sharp relief against walls and floors. All is strangely quiet. The only sounds come from the swishing of my gown and my breathing.

I approach a corner warily. With the way the light and darkness play together, my shadow is cast ahead of me. Anyone around the bend can see me coming, but I cannot see them.

Despite my erratic heartbeat, I keep my back and shoulders straight, not flinching as I turn the corner.

No one. Not even a guard standing at alert.

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