Page 43 of A Cursed Son

“Nobody was being exploited, husband.” I spit the word at him. “Don’t talk about things you know nothing about.”

“I won’t.” He gestured toward the dresses. “Now, I see you didn’t bring all your clothes. Are you expecting to murder me that fast, or are you under the impression you’ll return to your castle to pick up the rest?”

“I’m not going to murder you.”

“I didn’t think so, at least not until you got something useful from me, but now…” He looks around. “It’s clear that you packed for less than a week. That said, you don’t have enough money to last even a day, and the return trip is long. I must confess I’m puzzled.”

“You shouldn’t have gone through my luggage!” I’m so frustrated.

“Well, I had to.”

He lifts his shoulders, then points to the cosmetics bag, and I notice right away that some bottles are missing. At least the hair coloring lotion is still there.

I glare at him. “You threw away my medicine! You had no right.”

He puts a hand on his chest and takes a deep breath, pretending to be relieved. “Wife, dear, I’m so glad I did. Imagine if you had a stomachache and decided to drink some red herb extract. It would kill you. You had poison there. I can obviously see you knew nothing about it, and I can only assume that, in your complete innocence, you’d end up consuming it by mistake. I might have just saved your life.”

I sigh. “There was no poison.”

He smiles. “Again, there was poison, but fear not, it’s all been properly disposed of. Aren’t you glad I’m here, caring for your safety?”

I don’t have a reply to that, of course. Insisting that there was nothing will only make me look stupid, and he knows I’m lying. “If you’re so certain I’m going to kill you, why bring me here? Aren’t you afraid I’ll stab you in the back? Suffocate you in your sleep?”

He laughs, and it’s a genuine laugh. “Oh, do try. I’d love to see that.”

“You think I can’t best you.”

“I’m sure you can’t.”

He has just tickled that part of me that loves a challenge, but then he’s right that this is not the time to kill him—or try to. The poisons were just a precaution. “It was my master who prepared my cosmetics bag. He might have thought it was good to be prepared.”

“I suppose. You have many bottles with a black liquid, is it…” He looks at me. “For your hair?”

I don’t like that look, and I hate that question. “Yes. I like to color it black.”

He narrows his eyes. “But it was red, when… And it’s…” He’s staring at me, searching for something. “This is not your real color, but it’s not red either, is it?”

“My natural hair is brown and boring,” I say quickly—too quickly. I smile and make an effort to speak slowly. “I like it black.”

He still stares, and for a moment I fear he’s trying to figure out my real hair color, except that he obviously can’t. He shrugs. “Black also looks good.”

“Didn’t you say I was ugly?” I know I shouldn’t provoke him, but I can’t stop myself.

“I never said you were ugly. I said you’re unattractive and unappealing. There’s a difference.”

Right. Now I want to strangle him, but I just chuckle. “I wonder what gives you the idea that I care about your opinion.”

He shrugs. “If you are trying to seduce me, I suppose?—”

“I’m not!” I can’t stand this stupid lie anymore. “I never tried to do anything, and you’d be the last person in the world I’d want to seduce. You, you are the one with the magic to plant thoughts in people’s heads. You should look at yourself, look at your magic, and stop accusing me of what I’m not doing.”

He shakes his head. “I can see images, thoughts, if I touch someone and have that intent. I cannot plant ideas.” He then stares at me intently, an eyebrow raised. “Or dreams.”

I shake my hands in the air. “I’m not responsible for your dreams! I’m not.” Perhaps I shouldn’t be yelling, but I’m so frustrated.

“Fair, then.”

That’s it? That’s what he’s going to say? It doesn’t even mean he believes it.