Page 15 of Blackwarden
He huffed a short breath through his nose with a bitter smirk. “Then you should be thankful I’m making time.”
“I...don’t think—”
“This isn’t hard, Ms. Greene.”
Heat burned in my cheeks. What was he insinuating? I stood from the table, but he remained seated, his cold eyes locked on my face.
“Do you seriously—”
“There should be plenty of room here.” He cut me off and with the grace of a dancer rose and faced me. “We can start with a simple curtsey.”
“I know how to curtsey.” I glowered at him, setting my jaw. How could he think me so unrefined? Sure, I was from a poor family, in a poor village, but this was common knowledge.
“Then this should be easy for you.” His voice seemed to wrap around me and pull me toward him, the tension I felt only a moment ago melting into smooth seduction. And I hated that butterflies fluttered against my rib cage. “The Hag Queen will expect you to hold on bended knee until she addresses you.” He flipped his hand, indicating I should step closer.
A flash of rage rippled through me. Did he expect me to demonstrate? “I don’t think I need to—”
“I don’t particularly care what you think youneed, Ms. Greene. I want to know that you can curtsey and hold low.” He took a few torturously slow steps closer, his eyes blazing with frustration. “I’ve made time. Don’t waste it, for both our sakes.”
Too shocked to move, I stared at him, a pool of hot resentment soaking into the threads of fear that had woven through my insides. Then, as if compelled by my own stubbornness to prove him wrong, I dipped into the lowest curtsey I could and held it.
He smirked, cold and humorless, tipping his chin up to look down his nose at me. And this is how we stayed for the longest moment of my life. I hadn’t anticipated how long he’d expected me to remain in such a position. When my legs started to shake from the strain, I wondered if he’d wait until I broke and rose before being addressed. Sweat beaded across my forehead from my determination to prove I could do what he clearly thought I couldn’t. I would prove him wrong. I had to. He finally turned and I straightened, nearly falling over from exhaustion.
“Adequate, at least,” he said, with a stain of humor to his voice.
“Adequate?” I took a step toward him on wobbly legs. “Adequate?”
He turned back to me faster than I’d anticipated, leaving his face inches from mine. The hint of white light in his eyes sent a shiver of warning down my spine.
“Adequate,” he repeated, over enunciating the T. “She’s a queen, not a Magistrate. You don’t want to break out into a sweat on your first encounter.” His eyes traveled from my face to my toes and back, as if appraising me for the first time. He didn’t bother hiding his derision. “It was...adequate.”
Red-hot fury seared through me. I took a slow step back, balling my hands into fists. It was the way he said it, the arrogance that colored every word. Like the kind Keres I’d seen the previous day had been a lie. I hated that I cared enough to be hurt, that part of me missed him. Yet this Keres—the cold, arrogant one—was easier to be angry with.
I fled, not looking back, not caring how much of his precious time he’d spared to toy with me. I’d had enough of him and this place.
––––––––
By lunch I’d had time to cool down, but the last thing I wanted was to sit across from Keres again. He was waiting in the dining room when I arrived, his frosty demeanor melted into a gentle smile. He was like a different person entirely, it was jarring. Perhaps herealized he’d pushed too hard. That I wouldn’t be bullied, even by the likes of a Dark Fae.
Unlike the rest of our time together, he seemed curious about me and my life. But after breakfast’s instruction, I wasn’t sure I was interested in sharing anything with him. Besides, I was definitely not in the mood to talk about the past I was leaving behind forever.
“You’ve come in your sister’s place?”
It was hard not to fall for the tender curiosity in his voice, the friendly, open expression that lit his face. As much as I wished to ignore him, I abandoned my obstinance. I could be angry at myself for falling for his tricks later.
“I did, yes. She’s younger than I am and...” I hadn’t wanted to share with him that I was a widow, that my husband had been murdered by one of his brethren. I was still nervous I’d broken some rule by not being the woman actually chosen. I didn’t want to add the possible violation of having been married as well. “Her name is Renee.”
“Renee.” The way my sister’s name rolled off his tongue was languid and beautiful.
“I’m sorry I lied when I first came. I worried she’d be dragged here instead. But I guess you’d probably like her better—she wouldn’t ask you so many questions.” His eyebrows rose at this, and I continued babbling, unable to stop myself. “She’s beautiful, compared to me, with golden hair. Delicate and feminine, and—”
“Perhaps I like your questions, Ms. Greene.”
I couldn’t hold the intensity of his gaze, instead I glanced down at the half-eaten contents of my plate. Another roasted rabbit, so juicy and decadent I didn’t think I could ever get tired of it. In an effort to change the subject, I tried to come up with a question I could ask him that wasn’t about his magic, the creepy mural, or anything related to the other maidens that had been here before me. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t dreadfully curious about him—someone who could go from being cold and arrogant to someone who seemed actually caring.
“Do you always live here?”
“The Gatehouse is my home, but I spend a significant amount of time in the Hag Queen’s court.”
