Page 94 of Of Thorns and Beauty

Visibly steeling himself, he removes his hand from mine and examines the key he always has on him.

“Seventeen years ago, I was engaged.” He begins to weave a tale of intoxicating beauty and parties, exchanged letters, stolen kisses and laughter. And of how he truly believed himself to be in love, in spite of the fast and furious way he’d found it.

I listen intently. I know this story doesn’t have a happy ending. Not only are they clearly not together now, but I recall the comments I overheard from the servants that day about “the other one.”

“She came to Jokith to finalize our engagement, and it must’ve been the fact that she felt our alliance was so assured that she could allow herself to let her guard slip so much.

“Before, I had been so distracted by her beauty. By her wit and charm. But when she arrived, her disdain for my people was shocking. Her vanity and pride were overwhelming. And her cruelty...” He takes a steadying breath, his knuckles going white from his grip on the key.

My stomach churns. I’m getting a sick suspicion of who this woman was,is,and I hope against reason that it’s one of the many things I’ve been wrong about lately.

“She slapped Sigrid.” He pauses again. “She often abused or ridiculed the servants, forcing them to bend to whatever ridiculous whim she had. She had no respect for anyone she viewed to be beneath her.”

My heart beats a furious rhythm, and heat rises to my cheeks. I don’t have to feign anger on his behalf. I know there has to be more than one heartless woman in the world, but the coincidences are mounting. And if I’m right, I have had half a lifetime of watching Madame mistreat those she considers beneath her.

“She wanted to push the wedding up, but something was telling me not to. She was in such a hurry.” A humorless laugh escapes his lips. “She wanted more than that.”

Of course, she was. I do the math in my head. She was pregnant with Melodi, the only one of us who actually belongs to her. With that, I lose my last shred of doubt that the woman he was engaged to was Madame.

My anger mingles with an abrupt surge of jealousy. The man in front of me, the one who would never truly belong to me, had belonged toherfor some period of time.

The realization shouldn’t come as a surprise. Hadn’t she always taken what she wanted? Hadn’t she left nothing for my sisters or me that was untainted by her?

“She was desperate to climb into my bed. She threw herself at me at every turn. But something about it never felt right. It was never genuine or real with her.”

My cheeks flush at the memory of our wedding night, but now for a wholly different set of reasons. No wonder he hated me. I hate myself for bearing any resemblance to Madame that night. Or ever.

“Anyway... one night, I went to confront her about it all, went to tell her we were through, but she must have already known. When I arrived at her chambers, she wasn’t alone. Odger was with her.”

“No.” My eyes widen, and my mouth pops open in surprise.

Not because I would put it past her, but because it’s so unlike Madame to be careless with her plans.Unless it was part of her plan?My head hurts from analyzing this.

“Yes. And I’m sure I don’t need to explain the compromising position he had her in up against the wall.”

I actually cringe. His disdain for the weasel makes so much more sense now.

“Were you terribly upset?” I ask, unreasonably afraid of his answer, and he shakes his head.

“Not in the way you would think. It stung, but I had already planned to break off our understanding. That she slept with Odger was just a slap in the face after the fact. But I never imagined that she would be so cruel...” He closes his eyes as he fidgets with the smooth key.

I try to put myself in his shoes, to somehow believe that the woman who now goes by Madame had a shred of kindness in her. That he could believe himselfin lovewith her.

Was she softer then? Her very essence unmarred by every black and twisted thing that she would do in the years to come?

It's no use. It's impossible for me to imagine a version of that woman who is anything but a liar and a monster.

Chapter Forty-Nine

Ihate the turn this conversation has taken. I hate everything about Madame and the way she manages to slip her way into every last nook and cranny of my life, spreading her particular brand of devastation like wildfire.

But for all that I hate her, in this moment, I think I hate myself just a little bit more for asking him for this story.

"She poisoned them?" I phrase it like a question, although I already know the answer.

How better to punish the man who refused her advances, who refused to acknowledge her unearthly beauty, than to surround him with ugliness. There's only one thing I still don't understand.

"But she didn't poison you?"

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