I gritted my teeth, fisting my hands to keep them from trembling in rage. “Because I know you, and I know she embarrassed you today.”
“Embarrassment does not befit a king. Jerad would have known that.”
I couldn’t fight back the wince that jolted through my jaw at the sound of his name on my father’s lips. “Be that as it may, there’s flesh and blood underneath that iron exterior of yours, Father, and there’s nothing that makes it past your armor like a few well-placed words.”
I thought I sensed my father bristle. Actually bristle. But his face hardened, and I decided it must have been a trick of the light, a game of shadows that his flickering lamp now played.
“Embarrassment does not befit a king, and ill humor does not befit a princess,” he said, his smile eerily pleasant, but his jaw bulging as he gritted his teeth all the same.
I let out a scoff. “What do you mean, ill humor does not befit a princess?” My memory flitted back to the first dinner Ellie ever ate with my parents. I have no desire to flirt with a male with a list of bedmates behind him that could probably span the length of this table. “I seem to remember you enjoying her ill humor when it was directed toward me.”
Again, that eerie smile overtook his face. “You’re correct. I find Lady Payne amusing. But the time always comes to put away amusing things.”
Put away. I didn’t like the sound of that.
“What will you do to her?” I tried to keep my voice steady as I asked, but the edges of a plea dripped through. That wouldn’t do. I wouldn’t add a single day to Ellie’s life by sounding like a beggar.
“Me?” he asked. “I will do nothing.”
Yep. I was definitely right to feel that dread pooling in my stomach. As much as my father liked to pretend that he was misunderstood by his younger son, I’d dealt with him long enough to recognize vengeance when it worked underneath the stony cut of his jaw.
I didn’t even know what to say. I could ask more questions, but he clearly planned on answering only in vaguely ominous non-answers.
I let out a scoff, one I injected with as much disappointment as I could. It wasn’t difficult. I’d hoarded up plenty of it over the past two centuries.
His eyebrow quirked. “You’re fond of the girl.”
That was it. I exploded.
“Me? I’m fond of Ellie? Unbelievable.” My fingers ran through my hair of their own accord. “You’re fond of her, Father. In your sick, twisted kind of way. Or have you forgotten why you denied her request to rid herself of the marriage bond? You spent an hour with Ellie, and you saw in her what you never saw in me.”
His face hardened. His pointed ears twitched as he drawled, “And what, exactly, do you think I saw?”
I huffed. “A leader, that’s what you saw. You saw vision, and the ability to execute it. You saw a queen. And who could blame you? Anybody would. And yes, she might have offended you today. She might have embarrassed you, though why you allow such an emotion into your heart when you’re literally the most powerful being in the kingdom is beyond me. But that fire, that ember of rebellion you witnessed in Ellie today, it’s the same spark that feeds her drive, the same spark you admired in her. So no, I won’t sit around and let you forget the vision you saw for this kingdom when you laid eyes on her. Because you don’t get to have it both ways. You can’t admire her strength and cleverness, then punish her for being bold and shrewd. So, no. I’m not in here defending Ellie. I’m simply calling to your memory who she’s been all along.”
My father hardly moved, but his ears twitched.
I held my breath.
“Well, son. It seems you’ve finally sprouted a backbone after all,” he said, his eyes blazing. “I’ll spare the girl from punishment.”
I let out an exhale just a moment too early, because as soon as I made it to the door, he added, “She and Jerad would have made a good match.”
CHAPTER 27
ELLIE
I knew the knock was coming before I even felt footsteps approaching. I knew because I’d been imagining it all afternoon. Though I’d distracted myself with a pile of books I’d requested Imogen fetch me from the library, I hadn’t been able to focus on any of them. I’d catch my eyes slipping over the words, realizing after a dozen paragraphs I hadn’t retained a word.
I’d been thinking of Evander.
Mostly his smile, those glances we’d stolen during the most recent trial. I’d asked the scribe afterward if I could keep the letter Evander had written me. Judging by how quickly he shoved the letter into my hands, the poor male was glad to be rid of it, as if even holding the letter had soiled his perfectly trimmed fingernails.
I’d pulled out the letter multiple times and read it repeatedly, in between searching for a book that would actually grab my attention. The nuance of the letter brought a renewed thrill to my chest every time, and my cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling. I traced every line with my gaze, well aware the perfect script belonged to the scribe, not to Evander.
It was ridiculous; I knew that. I mean, what woman in her right mind fawned over a letter about a celibate marriage?
Fates, it was practically half-insult.
There was always the interpretation that Evander was glad that our marriage would be celibate, the subtle jab that he abhorred me physically. But that was half the fun of it, for I knew now that he’d never say something so unkind if it were actually true. Not now that we’d become friends.
And I liked being his friend.
That was what I told myself, at least.
After all, friendship was all the note promised. The insinuation being that, should we be forced into marriage, we would likely become the best of friends, one another’s confidants. The ones that made the other laugh, that knew the other’s most precious secrets.
I had known of more amorous marriages that had gone poorly for a lack of companionship.
Making the best of our situation. That was what we were doing. That was all we were doing.
I meandered over to my desk.
Several times today, I’d pulled out my quill with the intention to write my parents, but I’d only succeeded in ruining half a dozen sheets of parchment.
There was so much to tell them, but each time I started, I found my pen had a tendency to make all the sentences start with “Evander.” And that would not do.
They hadn’t been allowed to attend the second trial, as it had been an exclusive event for fae nobility. As much as I would have loved to see them, I couldn’t help but be a little relieved that they weren’t there to hear the contents of my and Evander’s letters.
