Page 28 of Beguiled
He’d told me more about his Testing, where his brothers had gone for their Testing, and how he hadn’t been in communication with either of them since they left Scania in May. Vilmar had been relegated to laboring in the gem mines as a slave, and Kresten was a woodcutter in Inglewood Forest. He’d spoken of both men with the utmost respect.
In turn, I’d shared more about my family, mostly my love for my father and sister. And while he’d known a little bit about the history of the Great Isle, I’d told him more about my mother and her twin sister, Leandra, how their father, King Alfred the Peacemaker, had given each of them an inheritance. My mother’s had been Warwick and the coveted white stone, believed to be the primary means of alchemy.
Mikkel had been curious about the white stone and alchemy, but I didn’t want to talk about it for long. My mother had obsessed over the alchemy process while I was growing up, had spent countless hours and resources trying to unlock the secret ingredients so she could be the first to transform stones into gold. She loved her alchemy more than anything or anyone, including her family. And because of that, I resented everything having to do with it.
While Mikkel hadn’t requested to see my face, he had asked me again to tell him what had happened to cause my blemish. I suspected he believed I was unbearably deformed and had no wish to see me for fear of knowing exactly the kind of woman he’d married. Thus, I told him I didn’t want to speak about it and not to bring it up again.
I focused on a goshawk floating above the dark Scots pine trees. It was too distant to see its red eyes and white eyebrows, but the bird of prey, with its oddly colored eyes, somehow seemed to belong to the island.
Belong.The word opened up the wound in my heart, which I’d tried so hard to ignore these many months. I didn’t belong anywhere—not in Warwick, not here on the island, and not even in Scania with Mikkel.
Though Mikkel had reassured me he intended to keep our marriage vows, I wouldn’t hold him to his promise. As soon as I was settled in Scania with Ruby, I would proceed with an annulment nonetheless. Then he wouldn’t be stuck with a wife he hadn’t wanted, and he’d be free to marry the princess his advisors had arranged for him.
I scanned the gorge again for a sign of the warring tribe but glimpsed only the others of our party hidden in their strategic locations. “Perhaps your wish is to return to Blade’s tribe.”
“My wish is to solve the differences between the two groups peacefully, like adults, rather than fighting like barbaric children.”
“Then you would return to Blade if given the chance?” I didn’t know why I was baiting him, but suddenly I very much needed to know whether he wanted to stay with me of his own will or whether he’d rather leave. “If you would like to go, I shall not stop you.”
I watched the goshawk circle and then swoop toward the river. Mikkel didn’t speak, and I felt foolish for going on about whether he wanted to stay or not. Of course none of this was his desire. The primary thing holding him to the island was his Testing. He’d shown that he’d do anything to prove his worthiness to become the next king. If not for the Testing, he would have left me and the island behind long ago.
“Pearl,” he said softly.
I shot him a cautionary look only to find his summer-blue eyes holding me captive.
“You agreed to call me Veil in public.”
“We’re alone.”
He was right. Our spot behind a boulder above the river was secluded and private, except for Gregor, who had perched behind a boulder a dozen paces away. But like Mikkel, I’d grown accustomed to the servant’s constant presence and hardly noticed him hovering anymore.
“No one will be the wiser if you slip away now.” I gave him one last chance to leave.
“Pearl.” His voice was so gentle it silenced me.
Embarrassed, I wanted to look away, but his kind eyes still held mine.
“I am not leaving. Put it from your mind.”
“’Tis my fault you are here and bound to me. If I had refrained from capturing you that day...”
“Then one of Irontooth’s other pawns would have captured me instead.”
“Pawns? Are you saying I am one of Irontooth’s pawns?”
He returned his sharp gaze to the scenery. “You know that you are. He’s your puppet master.”
I nearly laughed at his analogy but caught myself. Instead, I shoved his arm. As he was balanced on the balls of his feet, the move threw him off-kilter. He grabbed at me to steady himself. In the process, however, he tipped sideways, landed on his back, and somehow pulled me down on top of him.
Letting my weapons fall idle, I sprawled across him, feeling the solidness of his chest keenly against mine along with the rise and fall of his breathing. “Take it back,” I said, trying to salvage my dignity.
“Take what back?” His eyes took on a sparkle.
“That Irontooth is my puppet master.”
“He is.”
“No, he is not. Now retract your words, or I shall make you pay for them.”
