But every instinct in her screamed that she should fight. Shan wouldn’t sit here like this, just waiting, an obedient slave. Neither would Anala. Tears stung at the corners of her eyes. But she was neither Fair One nor wolf. She was just a human, weak and terrified.
Gilliad wouldn’t want to see her cry. Weeping would mar the perfect image the maids had created from the wreckage her brother had made of her. She tried to wipe the tears away, but more sprang up in their place. Shan would never have given up so easily. He would fight. He would find a way to free her. She thought of his smile, of those precious moments when joy filled his face, the curve of his lips, the way they had pressed to her hand. All that would be gone forever, his life forfeit if she didn’t obey her brother.
She reached up, burrowing her fingers through the fur of Anala’s pelt. Soft against her skin, almost silken, for a moment it was almost comforting. But it lacked the warmth of life, the rise and fall of the breathing wolf, and the comfort drained away. Deep inside her, something began to crumble. Jeren closed her eyes and wished the world away.
Gilliad’s face was lean with hunger when he came to fetch her. He was lucid today, but that didn’t make her feel any better. If anything, lucidity made Gilliad even more dangerous. She knew that now. She knew it better than anyone.
“You look beautiful. I will have you dressed just like this on our wedding day. What do you think?”
A low growl shook across her skin, just below hearing but there none the less. Jeren tried to compose herself. She couldn’t form an answer.
Her brother took her arm and led her down the tower steps. “I told the delegation from Grey Holt of your illness, so be sure not to appear too lively. I wouldn’t try to enlist their aid either. Grey Holt needs an alliance more than a bride. If you step out of line, I’ll let Maldrine loose on your Feyna lover…”
“He isn’t my lover, Gilliad.” How many times did she need to say it? Nothing had happened between them, not really. Nothing but feelings and emotions they both knew were pointless. She’d tried to explain. But she knew he blocked out such words, refused to listen to anything that did not suit him, if the mood took him.
At the far end of the courtyard, something moved in the shadows, like a reflection of moonlight. It caught her eyes for an instant, sleek and lupine, a flash of silver and light, and then it melted away. Her stomach leaped inside her and her breath quickened. She tried to follow where it had gone but Gilliad’s voice distracted her.
“I have plans for Shan. I know what hurts them most. And I will hurt him, for what he did to you…”
Fear clamped around her racing heart, stilling it once more.
“He did nothing but protect me.” But she knew Gilliad wouldn’t listen to reason. And trapped here, with Shan also in his power, what could she do but play along with his delusions?
The frustration made her want to scream.
Jeren turned her face away before she said something she’d regret and caught sight of the same pale glint off to her left. Her body shivered and she lifted her face to the moon. A scent reached her, out of place and at the same time consoling, the scent of wet fur and hot breath. They passed the centre of the deserted courtyard and she stopped, trying to catch more of the insubstantial form as it glided along the edge of the night, stalking the siblings.
She had to stall him. She needed time, just a little time. “What—what do you think he did to me, Gilliad?”
Her brother shuddered beside her. His voice was cold, distant. “He let you love him. It would have amused him, to see such a creature falling in love outside her race, her kind. But he knew it was only an amusement. She didn’t. She thought there was so much more.”
Jeren’s head jerked to alertness. She sensed the change in him, felt rather than saw the madness slithering through his mind. Her nerves vibrated with alarm as she listened to the words pour out, knowing he didn’t mean Shan, not anymore. He spoke of himself. And Falinar.
“They cast me out,” he protested suddenly. His hand tightened on her arm and he shook her. “Called me unworthy! Ariah said I would never stand at Aran’Mor, never go to the Vision Rock, that I would never be accepted as one of them. But I did. I went there anyway, right into the Holy of Holies. And I looked into the water without their rituals and hocus-pocus. I used my own powers and I saw the future. I’m going to rule the Holtlands, Jeren, and take back the imperial throne.” He grabbed her shoulders, pulling her towards him. Spittle flecked on his lip, too close to her face. She fought against an urge to recoil. She couldn’t risk enraging him now. “Our children will rule the entire world.”
Breathing slowly to dull the panic thrumming through her veins, Jeren tried to draw his mind back to a safer subject. She couldn’t dwell on what he thought their future would be. She curled her hands into so tight a fist that her nails bit into her palms. She would throw herself from the top of Birony’s tower before that came to pass.
“What happened to Falinar?”
“She followed me there. Said she wanted to come back with me, that she loved me. But I knew…she wore a fair face and a virtuous exterior, but I knew. She didn’t seem to want to come with me afterwards. She screamed and fought and even when I finally made her quiet, when I hit her that last time, her eyes just kept staring at me, accusing me. I knew I was right then. She was a demon.”
No, oh no. This wasn’t fair. It was too cruel.
He had killed Shan’s sister. Fate played a twisted game with them both.
Jeren swore beneath her breath and hoped he didn’t hear her.
“It’s a good thing you didn’t tell him who you were,” Gilliad said. “It could have been very unpleasant for you.”
He patted her cheek, as if she was a child. Rage came roaring through her like a tsunami.
“Compared to what?” The words snapped out before she could stop them, but Gilliad barely seemed to notice. If anything he seemed amused.
He laughed thinly. “To what I have planned for Shan. You saw poor old Haledren. When you cut off their braids, they topple quickly. Hallucinations, despair and finally that glorious raving madness. I’m doing it slowly, just for you, my darling.”
Jeren drew in a shaking breath, aware of the way her bosom heaved in that blasted corset. Gilliad’s eyes snapped towards her breasts and she blinked, the idea too appalling to contemplate.
But she had to contemplate it if she was going to survive.
She caught her fingers under his chin and slowly raised his face to hers. She smiled slowly and heaved in another breath that thrust her chest towards him, trying to quell the bile rising in the back of her throat.
“Show me, Gilliad. I want to see.”
Suspicion darkened his face. “You’ve never wanted to see so much as an animal suffering, Jeren.”
“But you yourself told me the Fair Ones are worse than animals.” She forged her voice into something between seductive and excited. He had to believe her. He had to.
Gilliad slid his hand up the length of her arm, his touch like sandpaper on her skin. She forced herself not to flinch, to lean towards him. Her brother smiled and Jeren could have wept for the horror she felt at his expression. The triumph of the dark magic within him was complete. There was nothing of Gilliad left.
She dropped into the deepest curtsey, not out of respect, but as a means of escaping him, of looking away without causing insult. “Please, my lord of River Holt. Grant me this one boon, to see the man who abducted me suffer by your hand.” She kept her face lowered to the ground so he would not see the tears that needled her eyes.