Page 39 of Dreams and Dragon Wings
Friedemar continues, “Not to mention the fact that the man claims to be your intended. He must die for that alone, to ensure no one can question the validity of our marriage.”
Marriage. As if I would ever marry such a monster.
“You speak rather plainly for a gentleman, Your Majesty,” I delicately observe.
I mean it as an insult.
But he clearly takes it as a compliment. “Thank you. I merely see no reason for there to be any secrets between me and my future queen.”
My eyes take in the now well-illuminated room in a single quick sweep. The letter opener gleams on the carpet, resting between us.
A small glimmer of hope flickers to life inside me.
I snap my gaze back to his and cautiously edge toward it. “I willnevermarry you.”
“Yes, you will,” he drawls while striding toward me. Casually, his foot catches on the letter opener. He kicks it away, sending it skittering beneath the bed and out of sight. “Or else I will execute your mother alongside the clockwork man tomorrow. Now…”
His words slam into me, snuffing out what scant hope I had left.
No.
My breath catches in my throat as I stumble backward, fighting to keep the distance between us. But Friedemar continues to advance, his dark eyes firmly fixed on mine.
When I crash against the wall, he finally pauses mere inches away, hemming me in with the threat of his body.
“Weave something for me,” he purrs within that nauseating nearness. “It’s been so long since I last saw magic.”
“Weave?” I choke on the word. My ruse is at an end. “I… I can’t—”
His mood shifts in an instant—mercurial as a summer storm.
“You can,” he snarls. “And youwill.”
“I can’t,” I shout back, my anger igniting again. “If I could, don’t you think I would have bound you in Air and flung you out the window the moment we entered this room?”
Those words spill from me before I can bite them back. In their wake, I freeze.
For once, a hint of uncertainty flashes across his features. His brow furrows.
I can’t help it—I laugh. Like a madwoman, I laugh. What does it matter anymore? What more can this man possibly do to me? What more do I have to lose?
He twitches away, his disgust a palpable thing.
“A Jewel who cannot weave,” he whispers, like a little boy who has just realized he was gifted a broken toy.
Before I can react, he turns and walks away. He crosses the room. He slams the door shut behind him.
A key scrapes in the lock.
Click.
I am alone.
All the fury, all the bravado, seeps from me all at once, leaving me boneless and shaking. Stumbling to the balcony doors, I fling them open.
“Help!” I cry into the night. “Somebody! Anybody!Please.”
Warm summer air rushes over me as I stagger to the railing. It is a cloudless night. The moon is full. The stars glitter. But my gaze is all for the palace grounds that yawn far below, farther than I expected.
