Page 27 of The Manticore's Human Queen
“I’m counting on it.” Her smile is sharp as a blade. “I want them to see what they created when they tried to break us.”
I reach through the bars to cup her face, my thumb tracing her cheekbone. “My fierce little warrior. Have I told you lately that you’re magnificent?”
“Not today,” she murmurs, leaning into my touch.
“You’re magnificent, Annelise. Beautiful and deadly and absolutely perfect.” I lean closer to the bars. “And after tonight, you’ll never have to pretend to be anything else.”
She produces the stolen key from her bodice, holding it between us like a promise. “One lock,” she whispers. “One lock between us and freedom.”
“One lock,” I agree, feeling the predator in my blood stir to life. “Are you ready to watch me tear this place apart?”
Her answering smile is wild and free. “I do.”
As she slips away into the darkness, the last of my restraint burns away. The civilized man who endured captivity and humiliation is gone, replaced by something far more dangerous.
30
ANNELISE
The morning of my wedding dawns with deceptive beauty. Sunlight streams through my chamber windows, painting everything in shades of gold that mock the darkness of what this day truly represents. I stand before my mirror, but the woman staring back is a stranger. Gone is the frightened girl who once trembled at shadows. In her place stands someone forged in fire and tempered by love. Today, I become a widow before I’m even truly a wife.
The wedding gown hangs on its stand like a specter, all ivory silk and delicate pearls—a fortune in fabric designed to showcase one man’s wealth and another’s subjugation. I approach it with the reverence it deserves, not as a symbol of joy, but as the costume for the final act of my performance.
Each layer slides over my skin like armor. The chemise, soft as a whisper. The corset, laced tight to create the illusion of fragile femininity. The underskirts, voluminous enough to hide secrets. And secrets I have in abundance.
The first blade slides into a pocket sewn along my thigh, its weight a comforting presence against my leg. A second finds its home strapped to my opposite calf, hidden beneath layers ofsilk and lace. The pearl-handled dagger Tarek gave me nestles against my ribs, secured in the bodice where my heart beats its frantic rhythm. I am a weapon wrapped in wedding silk.
My hands shake as I fasten the final clasps, not from fear, but from barely contained anticipation, from knowing that after today, nothing will ever be the same.
“Breathe,” I whisper to my reflection. “Just breathe.”
But breathing feels impossible when every intake of air brings me closer to the moment when everything I’ve planned will either succeed brilliantly or fail catastrophically.
Footsteps in the corridor make my pulse quicken. I smooth my skirts one final time, ensuring the blades remain hidden, and arrange my features into the serene mask of a blushing bride.
The door opens with a soft creak, and Lyra steps inside. My handmaid looks nervous, her pale hands twisting in her apron as she takes in my transformed appearance.
“My Lady,” she breathes, her eyes wide with what might be admiration or fear. “You look… radiant.”
“Thank you, Lyra,” I say, my voice perfectly controlled, revealing nothing of the storm raging beneath my calm exterior.
She approaches with hesitant steps, her gaze darting around the room as if expecting something out of place. “It’s time,” she says quietly. “Lord Zarren is waiting, and the guests have all assembled.”
“Of course they have.” I turn from the mirror to face her fully. “They wouldn’t want to miss the spectacle.”
Something in my tone makes her flinch, but she rallies quickly. “My Lady, if I may… you seem different today.”
“It’s my wedding day, Lyra. How else should I seem?”
“Happy?” she suggests weakly. “Excited? Most brides?—”
“Most brides aren’t being sold like prize cattle to sadistic monsters,” I interrupt, letting a hint of steel enter my voice.
Her face pales. “My Lady, you shouldn’t say such things. If someone were to overhear?—”
“Let them overhear.” I step closer, and she instinctively backs away. “What are they going to do? Punish me? Force me into a marriage I don’t want?” I laugh, the sound devoid of warmth. “Too late for that.”
“Please,” she whispers, genuine distress in her voice. “You’re frightening me.”
