Page 98 of A Cursed Son

“Substitutes.”

“Yes, substitutes. So I saw you a few times. With magic, like I always said. My understanding is that you’ll replace the princess. If the king strikes a dangerous marriage alliance, he’s not going to sacrifice his daughter, but one of you. You could also act as assassins, thieves. I suppose… pretend to be the princess, infiltrate somewhere, then steal something. Is that right?”

“Yes.” There’s no point in contradicting him. “We’re elite guards, but I guess you knew that already.”

He shakes his head. “I want to understand what kind of mind training you got. To resist me.”

Oh, no. He’s going there, and I doubt he’ll accept my usual excuses. I try to give him some part of the truth. “We train how to lie, pretend, keep secrets, so maybe my fortitude of mind played a role.”

“You are trained to seduce as well.” That’s not a question.

“Not… trained. It’s true that they teach us that—or try to. But I’m horrible at it.”

“Astra.” He tilts his head. “You know what you did to me. You know it. Give me just a little bit of honesty, just a little. Maybe then I can stop with the mockery, as you call it.”

“I do not know how to seduce anyone.” This conversation churns old acid in my stomach and I want it to stop. “I never even had a proper lover. The only person who ever looked at me was a foreign captain who told me I was too low for him.”

“He… what?” His voice cracks like thunder, and I fear there’s a storm coming.

I also realize I spoke too much.

The twirling seams at the edge of my tunic catch my attention. So much work to sew them in that shape.

Words struggle to traverse my closed throat and an ocean of contained tears, but I manage a murmur. “It was nothing.”

I can’t believe I just laid out my most vulnerable moment.

“It was not nothing.” His voice explodes in an earth-shattering roar. “Who was it? I want the name.”

Struggling to contain my tears, I force myself to keep my voice level. “It was nothing. A meaningless dalliance.”

Marlak’s hand touches the back of mine, and I don’t have the strength to push it away. I don’t want his pity, though. I don’t want anyone’s pity.

But then the anger vanishes.

I’m with Tarlia and we’re laughing, walking up the stairs to our quarters. She’s been pretending to be Princess Driziely, and spending time with the Tirenzy prince.

Although that kingdom is a prosperous island, Otavio warned us that it was too small, not powerful enough for a marriage alliance. Tarlia has to be polite, to avoid offending the prince, but she also needs to make sure he never proposes.

Her solution was a diet with lots of eggs, cabbage, broccoli, and beans. Her walk in the garden with the prince was punctuated by many, many flatulent sounds. Meanwhile, I was pretending to be her handmaid, my hair brown, standing at a distance, talking to Rowe, the captain of Tirenzy’s guard.

The scenery changes and it’s night. I’m lying on cool, soft grass, stargazing with Captain Rowe, dizzy from wine, and yet drinking more and more, my senses muddled, the stars turning double. He’s older than me and blond with hair cropped close to his scalp, not the best-looking man I’ve ever seen, but he’s kind and funny, and when he looks at me and the corners of his eyes crinkle, I believe I’m the most beautiful girl in the world.

I know we don’t have any future, I know I’m not supposed to dream about love, and yet when his lips are on mine, all my fears dissipate. There’s only soft grass beneath me, his body above me, and that dizzying feeling. I’m dazed, relaxed, free. Tonight I can dare, I can be someone else, I can surrender.

I’m not sure I feel everything, but there’s no pain. It’s like we are discovering a secret, doing something magical that only we can do. We spend the entire night together, and when I climb to my bedroom, it’s already time to get ready for breakfast.

The following night, I return to the gardens, seeking that magic, that glimpse of something more, that feeling that everything could be different. But without the wine, nothing is as magical as the first time. I’m not sure I like being called tasty or the way the first thing he does is turn me around, raise my skirt and move aside my underwear.

Before I even realize what we’re doing, he’s inside me, moving franticly, his hot, ragged breath on my ear. It’s true that we have to be quick, as a guard can pass by at any moment and catch us. And quick he is, moving away from me and buttoning his pants before I have any time to enjoy our activity.

My thighs are wet when I turn to look into his eyes. We’re doing it all wrong tonight, as only now he kisses me, his mouth tasting of strong liquor. I’m not sure if I like any of this, but I’m still clinging to the magic of the previous night.

He pinches my cheek. “Tasty, I’m leaving tomorrow and I’ll miss you.”

“You can write.” I don’t know why I suggest that. What is he going to write? Dear Tasty, oh, it’s so good. Yes, good. Yes, that’s it. Oh, so tasty.

His eyebrows move up, an amused expression on his face. “Write? To you?”