Page 119 of A Cursed Son

The touch feels intimate. I take a glass with the purple drink and chug it in one long sip, trying to wash away my thoughts. It tastes like thin, watered down grape juice.

Maybe everything is juice, and Marlak is messing with my head. It would mean that he can lie for sure. I’m still uncertain about that.

“You’re not drinking?” I ask.

He points to another table, on the opposite end. “I’ll get some wine.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to make sure you knew about the fae drinks first, so you don’t drink something by mistake. And fae wine is stronger. I’m not sure you should?—”

“You truly want me to drink piss, right?”

“I told you what it was made of. And there’s water as well, wife.” He pinches my nose again.

I don’t know why he’s doing that. Perhaps because we’re in public. I feel heat rising to my face, heat going down my body, maybe because of all that talk of orgies and thoughts about drinking the red liquid and what could happen. What would never happen, considering he’s very clear he doesn’t want me.

As we walk to the other table, a dark-skinned fae woman in a long white dress, wearing a necklace made of huge pearls, stops us. With spotless skin, and wavy, long black hair, she’s stunning, like all fae. No wonder they don’t need to wear makeup.

She smiles at us. “Marlak. You graced us with your visit.”

He bows slightly. “The invitation is an honor, your highness.” He points to me. “This is Astra, my wife and queen.”

I’m really silly because I get a buzz in my stomach when he says that. Of course, it’s the stomach, not the brain, and it doesn’t understand how shallow the words are.

The queen’s smile is warm when she looks at me. “So you do exist.”

In imperfect flesh and bone. I almost crack a joke, but then I hold my tongue and make the same gesture he just did. “It’s an honor to be here.”

“I’m queen Neliara, and you’ll soon see my future king consort.” She puts a hand on her chest, then narrows her eyes at me. “Have you been crowned?”

I smile. “A lot needs to happen before that.” It’s vague enough as an answer, and I’m glad Marlak didn’t interrupt me or answer in my stead.

“Indeed.” Her smile is still friendly, but there’s something calculating about her stare. She then makes a gesture with her head, pointing to the door. “Come outside. You don’t want to miss the roasted pork.”

Outside.

To watch things getting roasted.

I don’t think there’s anything that could be worse for my husband, but I see no malice in her tone.

“Apologies, your highness,” he says. “But my wife is allergic to smoke.” His tone is smooth, and he sounds like he’s saying the truth—and yet he isn’t.

He can lie.

Marlak can lie, and now I’ll have to revisit all our interactions and every little thing he’s ever told me.

I don’t have time to mull over that discovery, as the queen sets her eyes on me, a puzzled expression on her face. “Really? And you married the fire prince?”

Fire? I want to choke, but I laugh instead. “Hearts are illogical, your highness.”

She laughs and walks away. I can’t shake her calculating look, nor Marlak’s lie, and also… fire prince? The only reason I don’t ask him about it or tease him is because of what I just saw. The queen likely thinks he burned his family, and this is not the time to bring that up.

Marlak said she’s a potential ally, but I suppose nothing’s that simple.

“So. Wine?” he asks, as if nothing happened.

“Is everything all right?” I whisper.