Page 41 of Dreams and Dragon Wings (Clean Fairytales for Adults #2)
Aurelia
I stare at the columns of monsters marching past far below, my eyes narrowed against the light of day. For all of Rowan’s claims that the Vale is dead, the weak sunlight glinting off the threads of Earth, Water, and Air weaving across the dry husk of our homeland is enough to nearly blind me.
I have become so accustomed to the shadows of Umbra Castle that I had almost forgotten what the world is supposed to look like.
“Is it not an exhilarating moment?” Malice asks as he stands beside me, his hands gripping the railing, his gaze wholly fixed on his army.
I swallow down a yawn and blearily observe, “I imagine you are eager to leave this place.” My attention wanders sidelong to where Ghoul, Rowan, and a handful of other goblins whose names I don’t know stand at attention, watching the procession with us.
Though it is probably a trick of the light, Rowan seems to be standing taller today—a little less hunched.
He utterly avoids meeting my eyes.
Still, the sight of him gives me an idea.
Leaning slightly toward Malice, I lower my voice to the point where my tone becomes conspiratorial without being so soft that the others sharing the balcony cannot hear. “Eager for the company of more civilized persons?”
A smirk hitches itself at the corner of my captor’s mouth. “Indeed. It will be pleasant to have someone passingly intelligent to converse with again.” He flicks me a sidelong glance and graciously amends, “Besides yourself, of course, my dear.”
How generous .
I do my best to feign concern when I widen my eyes and ask, “Oh, but I do wonder what your new draconic subjects will think of having to share their home with our goblin friends?”
Malice barks out a laugh and turns to face me.
“There is no need to waste your gentle manners on the goblins, Lady Aurelia. They have no feelings.” His expression hardens, his gaze turning to shards of emerald ice.
“And they will not be coming with us, of course. The goblins belong here, in the Shadow Lands.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rowan twitch.
“But,” I protest, “the army—”
He cuts me off with a wave of his hand. “These matters are none of your concern. The army will serve its purpose, and that is that.” Taking a step closer, he lowers his voice, his next words for me and me alone.
“But let this be a lesson to you, my dear: in my mind, there are two sorts of people—tools and assets. Tools are meant to be broken. They are easily replaced.”
Within that nearness, his eyes search my face, as if hunting for cracks in the shield still protecting me from him. “Do strive to be an asset, not a tool.”
I retreat, unable to hide my disgust. I am too tired for these games. I should not have stayed up all night. But even after Rowan left, I still could not rest. I had to exhaust every possible trick I could think of that might enable me to weave Earth and free myself from my chains.
Unfortunately, every single one failed.
“Forgive me, Lord Malice,” I utter, doing my best to be bland, to ensure my personality remains firmly absent. “But I do believe I should go lie down now.”
“Good,” he agrees at once. “You look terrible, and I want you at your best for tonight.”
Dread pools in my stomach. Something tells me that I shouldn’t bother asking what is so special about tonight. There is a part of me that doesn’t want to know.
But there is another part of me that needs to know.
Wetting my lips, I cautiously ask, “And what is tonight?”
I hate the way my voice trembles around the words.
But I hate more the way Malice smiles at me in the wake of them. “We must celebrate our impending victory, of course. I thought we might have a party.”
“Oh…” Well, that isn’t frightening at all. There are far worse things than a mere party.
And yet the way he says it makes my skin crawl. My stomach twists.
There is something he is not telling me.
“Is that all then?” I press.
“Yes, that is all.” Malice’s smile deepens. But then he pauses, as if having just remembered something. “Oh, well, there is just one more thing.”
I retreat further, tripping over my chains as he stalks toward me. My hand catches against the stone wall, bracing myself before I can fall.
Drawing in a steadying breath, I lift my chin. I have no need to fear him.
He cannot hurt me. He cannot touch me .
When he slams into the invisible barrier between us, he snarls, flashing his teeth at me—more beast than man. “Prepare yourself for our wedding tonight, Lady Aurelia, for I grow tired of waiting.”
“Our wedding?” I gasp, horror claiming my thoughts. I can think of nothing clever to suggest as a reason for why we should postpone such a terrifying prospect. I can think of nothing to say at all.
Nothing beyond: “But… but Bene…”
“I need not wait for my nephew to die to make you my wife,” Malice explains as if I am a simpleton, each word dripping slowly from his lips. “He holds no claim on you. And besides…”
He sneers, looking at me as if I disgust him again despite all his talk of being attracted to me against his better judgment. “Do you truly think I would honor that claim even if he did?”