Page 70 of A Cursed Son

A bitter taste sets in my mouth. To be very honest, I hate the idea that he could still be courting someone while naming me his wife. He could certainly have kept me as a prisoner, right? Without this mockery. “Curious.”

He shakes his head. “I haven’t been there in over a year, and I have no plans of returning anytime soon.”

“Where are you going, then?”

“That is a secret.”

I feign confusion. “I don’t understand. Didn’t you say I knew all your secrets? What’s the matter?”

He chuckles. “Lots of matters. Maybe one day I’ll trust you, wife.”

With that, he goes to his room. I notice then that there’s someone at the door. Nelsin is watching me. “Don’t worry. The day will come,” he says.

He thinks I’m upset that Marlak doesn’t trust me? Odd.

I smile and nod, as if I was grateful for the reassurance.

I don’t like the idea of spending so many days away from Marlak, with no chance of finding out any of his secrets, but on the other hand, going to a fae court with him will be a trove of information. And I’ll get off of this island. And get to know more of the fae territories, something I’ve always dreamed of.

It’s such an amazing opportunity! I need to ignore the sting of his planned absence and focus on this coronation and everything that it will bring. Everything and everyone I’ll get to know.

13

Iknow the sound of his breathing when he’s asleep. It’s the sound of calm, peace.

I also notice when the cadence changes, and know that he’s awake. This time, there’s also a soft, almost imperceptible moan.

Something’s wrong.

I’m resting against his chest, but his star is hidden under a thin tunic. I try to place my hand under his tunic to see what’s there, but he holds it in place.

“It’s nothing.” His voice is slurred with sleep and exhaustion.

It’s definitely not nothing, and I notice then that he has some cuts on his left forearm and a scary gash on the back of his hand.

I look at him. “What happened?”

He kisses my forehead. “You worry too much.”

I wasn’t even worried, not until he said that, at least. I point to his hand. “Who did this?”

He tries to chuckle, but it sounds all wrong. Of course. While he might think it’s hilarious, his body disagrees. “Me, obviously, while fighting back.”

I push his hand away and lift his tunic. He has some cuts and scratches, but nothing deep, and I exhale in relief.

Still, something’s wrong.

“Look at me.” My voice is trembling.

“I’m always looking at you.”

His lips look normal, his coloring has no change.

I just have this feeling… Something’s wrong, wrong, wrong, and yet I don’t know what it is.

It’s when I remember Otavio’s voice. Few can recognize the symptoms of acrilantis. When they do, it’s too late.

I look at his hands again, and indeed, under the nails, it’s redder than usual. A subtle sign that most people miss. Shit, shit, shit.