Page 65 of A Cursed Son

I think he has an intense stare, but I try not to look at him and head to the counter, where I see some fruit, bread, and jam. Without waiting for an invitation, I pick a plate and serve myself. Marlak gets up and stands right beside me, doing the same, but I ignore him and sit with my plate, while he places his on the table and goes to that box where he keeps cold things, probably using his water magic to form the ice.

“Do you want some milk?” he asks, and I sense a slight edge in that last word.

Right. He wants to play a game, but he has no idea I’m a master at it. I keep my voice neutral. “Sure.”

He takes two cups in one hand and the jug with the other, then sits and looks at me.

“Trouble sleeping?” His voice is low, quiet, soothing.

Asshole. That’s the voice. Perhaps he’s using some air magic to caress me down there. It can’t be possible that a voice does that.

And yet I show no reaction. “No. Why?”

He stares at me. “Nightmares.”

“You should really see someone about that.”

He keeps staring. Is he trying to figure out if I had the same dream as him?

Haha. Good luck with that. It also means his strategy is shifting, and maybe he’s not as convinced that I’m behind the dreams. That’s great.

“Who knows?” He shrugs. “What if my next night goes smoothly?”

I pretend to be concerned. “You’ve been complaining about this for a while.”

He watches me as I take a sip of my milk. “You prefer it hot.”

“I do, but it’s fine. If we ever go somewhere with a stove, I’ll drink all the hot milk in the world.”

He looks thoughtful. “Is there any other kind of milk you like?” He asks it with a straight face, though.

“Yes.” I let the word hang for a second while he looks at me, an indecipherable look in his eyes. “I had goat milk a few times in the castle, and it was wonderful.”

He sighs. “I’ll ask Nelsin to bring some.”

“No, it’s fine. This is amazing.” I know, I know, I shouldn’t have used this exact word, but I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to mess with his head.

He rolls his eyes. “Wife. It’s just milk.”

“I mean all the food. Your knights are talented cooks. Or food preparers. What do you call someone who doesn’t actually cook?”

He’s tapping his fingers on the table, likely mulling over our conversation, noticing I didn’t blush, didn’t show any reaction. He’s probably thinking he’s the one with the corny dreams where I wear transparent nightgowns.

“I think it’s cook.” He chugs his milk in one long sip, then parts his bread. “They bring a lot of stuff from outside, like bread, sometimes some roasted meat.”

He takes a bite and leans back in his chair, his eyes lost. Definitely thinking about the dream. Hopefully coming to the conclusion that it was his depraved fantasy, and I had nothing to do with it.

Meanwhile, I’m here wondering if he can have floating sex while using his air magic and if it’s even possible, but I’ll die with this curiosity rather than ask.

One part of the dream was clearly wrong: Marlak can’t heat liquids. Then again, that was my fantasy. I take full responsibility for dreaming about a cup of hot milk.

The rest… I don’t know where the rest came from, but as long as Marlak doesn’t know either, I can live with it.

Nelsin and Ferer show up with two large suitcases, and then Marlak leaves.

He’s doing something during the day, and yet I’m stuck here, with no idea of what he’s planning. The truth is that this island is just a pretty prison.

And then, he never claimed I would be anything other than his prisoner. Perhaps trying to gain his trust is a useless endeavor. What information have I gained since I got here? What did I learn with this incredible power of dreams that he thinks I have?